Spartacus: Blood & Sand (Season 1) (Review)

Spartacus: Blood & Sand (Season 1)

5 out of 5

Never have I laid eyes on a spectacle more mentally gratifying than, Spartacus: Blood & Sand. No Hollywood film comes to mind that might compare to the boundary-breaking compassion sewn into the barbarous storytelling. Even a household name such as Sam Raimi, responsible for successes such as the Evil Dead & Spiderman Trilogies, lent his undying talents toward this eye-opening masterpiece. This television series was an original production made only possible by the Starz channel. It is extremely rare that a show of its type is deemed worthy by me because my tastes are very particular. I was impressed by the movie 300, but this spectacular tale of gladiators topples its reign, in my charts. A work of art woven with equal precision of these dramatized elements: lust, love, vengeance, murder, sacrifice, bloodshed, blackmail, corruption, deception, money, and power. Adorned with vulgar language, constant sexual references, limitless nudity, and heart-pounding special effects, only the most action-demanding, gorehounds will be fully enthralled by the pleasing efforts made. All of these ingredients pepper the stew with such overpowering results. Inspirational characters help showcase the pumping heart behind this monstrous tale.

It is a tale of a slave who fights as a gladiator in desperate hopes to see his wife. Challenged by a plethora of unmatched obstacles in the arena, he slowly transcends from a man into a bloodthirsty animal. From his cell, he dreams of a world of freedom outside the walls of his captivity. While his master remains occupied in political affairs, Spartacus is granted enough opportunity to press for truth. In the favor of the Gods’, he is blessed with one loyal friend, and cursed with a worthy rival. Spartacus takes every risk imaginable to escape his inevitable fate.

In the final episode of the season, I felt ecstatically satisfied with the avenger’s way of vengeance. I caught myself hysterically laughing at some of the heart-racing events. I’ve yet to witness a show that could strike all of the nails that Spartacus: Blood & Sand, hit on the head. There were no loose ends to the story, every detail was tied in a perfect knot. Ample amounts of elements that I love and enjoy are absent in many Hollywood films of today, they are ALL present in this television series. I’m now patiently awaiting to watch season 2 of Spartacus: Blood & Sand. I sit and wonder what beautiful madness that the creators could come up with, this time. Starz is planning to do prequel episodes, until Andy Whitfield (Spartacus) can fully return as main focus. (Side Note: He is battling with non-Hodgkins lymphoma.) When he recovers, Starz is planning to continue the Spartacus story where it left off.

Random Update 11/12/10 (Life, New Novel, & Don't Ask, Don't Tell Policy)

It’s been a LONG time since I wrote a real blog that wasn’t a creative writing. I have a lot on my mind lately. I feel like I need to share with you an unexpected, risky decision that I’m about to make, which will reroute the path of my fate. It’s been a year now, traveling down a bumpy, dirt road- trying to find my life’s answers in a miasma of opportunities. I’ve reached out many times trying to pursue a career in the Computer IT field, but something won’t let me go any further. Is a higher power not letting me continue my route, because it knows that I’m unsatisfied with my future? Or does it know that I will fall flat on my face? I thought that I had many signs to leave Kingston and goto TN Technology Center. I don’t regret going there, even though the instructor didn’t want to teach you, and was uninspired in the subject, at hand. I don’t regret meeting the people that I met. I was there for a distinct reason, as were they. Inside my heart, I knew that Kingston was about to close down. I was hurting my wrist for greedy people that didn’t care about me on a personal level. To them, I was just a rusty machine that would break, soon enough. I met a lot of unique individuals at Kingston, as well. Every person, thus far in my life, even negative, have left a life-changing impact on me. I still cherish the good times, the offbeat conversations, and their company.

If you have got this far in my blog, you are obviously someone who gives a damn.haha So, here is what I have to say, I’m considering going to Motlow Community College. I didn’t ever see this coming in my life, but it feels right. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time after I graduated highschool. I’m worried about money and the order of future events: having a house, a family, etc. Now, I’m at crossroads, wondering which path has my future at the end. Life is too short for all the things that I want to do: a possible, future band, novelist, artist. I’m writing on Chapter 4 on my newest, unnamed novel.

To tell you a little about it, it isn’t like Cinder Fingers, which is a dark fantasy with horror elements. (Hopefully life will throw a curve ball and publish Cinder Fingers.) My unnamed novel is a fantasy story about an 8-year-old boy who moves to Honolulu with his uncle. A mysterious circus erects their tent on an island facing his uncle’s tour boat business. A newly-built fun house is the passageway to an alternate realm, where lives pirates, mermaids, zombie/skeletal forms of mermaids, dinosaurs, nymphs, satyrs, skeleton pirates, etc. The 8-year-old boy, Benjamin, dreams up things with his powerful imagination, many visions take form in reality. Benjamin also travels on the back of a dolphin. There will be many appearances of mythological Gods & Goddesses, don’t forget clowns that might change your outlook on them. That’s all I can tell you, at this point. The entire story hasn’t fully taken shape, but the chapters that are already written exceed the boundaries of anything I’ve ever wrote. When the finished product is done, you are going to be VERY surprised at what kind of story it is, and what lengths it goes to. In respect, it challenges everything I’ve ever done.

My family have suggested some jobs that aren’t related to the computer field. I just keep telling myself, if I can’t find a job that continues with what I’ve learned in school, I’m going back to be educated in a more accessible field. Though, I don’t want to be one of those people that makes a career out of going to school. I know the economy sucks, but I’m not going to sit around and blame ‘everything’ on Obama; It was sucking pretty badly before he got into office, too. I think all of the people that continuously dog the current president are losers, because if they were in the president’s shoes for 1 day, they would crack under the pressure.

As for the, ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy, which I think is stupidity at its finest; You CAN be gay in the military, but not let other people know it. That’s like keeping a personal secret and trying to fool everyone in believing that you’re someone that you’re not. So what I’m saying is, homosexuals can’t be ‘themselves’ in the military, but the country will STILL allow them to risk their lives for us, just with lesser rights due to their sinful, sexual preferences. If you haven’t woken up and smelled the hot coffee, a LARGE percentage of the world is homosexual or bisexual. Disregarding religious preferences, people continue talking about making the world a ‘better’ place and making the world an ‘equal’ place, but the country can’t even give ‘equal’ rights to almost half of the country. There will always be girls that like girls and men that like men. If it grosses you out- or you like it, that’s ‘your’ sexual preference. But why do straight groups of friends all over the world have to keep the ‘homosexual’ topic alive? Does it always amuse them or does it sometimes subconsciously intrigue them? Many people that despise homosexuality are subconsciously gay, and they live a contradicting lifestyle- hating the sex in which they have been scarred with. Is it a natural thing? After all, there are many species of animals that are birthed or have developed being gay. If these are the set-thoughts that are in people’s minds, how will your doctrine and hatred toward them, change them? Why would someone’s sexual preference upset you enough to make you want to hurt them? I don’t think anyone should be regarded as lesser than the next. I don’t care if your gay, straight, black, white, Pee Wee Herman, brown, red, alien, or hybrid. lol

-Sir Bane Defiance

Crimson Wings (Throb Of A Pyromaniac)

“Oh, what ecstasy setting fires brings to my body! What power I feel at the thought of fire!...Oh, what pleasure, what heavenly pleasure!”

-Joseph Kallinger

Crimson Wings is a direct prequel to Storm Child. (Click here to read Storm Child.) Crimson Wings focuses on the most powerful sister of the seven fallen angels, which is a sorceress & angel of fire. Her alternative personality turns her into another character in the Book Of Revelations. This writing contains violence and sexual themes.

Crimson Wings

(Throb of A Pyromaniac)

I shall show you where she dwells, where she invokes her fires of hell. Bedazzled by her blinding, lovesick spells, this is where I battle myself. If you paddle down this river of mortal blood, you shall find her in the forbidden chamber of my heart. Yet, this isn’t where my sordid story starts. This is just an introduction to a beast so dark.

My obsession over her began like a line of cocaine. An innocent spark that blossomed into a flower of flame. She was so angry when she burned down everything that she touched. Her mouth had an appetite for tied virgins and lust. Although, she was someone’s pretty daughter, once. Now she enters my dreams in the monstrous shape of a succubus. With wings spread high for mid-nightmare flights, she pries into the bolted doors of my mind. She finds locked desires and perversions inside, and exorcizes the demons back to life...Crazed faces of damned races stare at my bare body with grins of delight. She darkens the meaning of love, tonight, before the mesmerizing tails of consuming firelight.

As restrictive as a cage in my lover’s warm embrace, a kiss to drown in passion, but I can always see “her” face. Not the face of my companion, but of the temptress demon who was embodied into the flesh of the most beautiful woman. Her glossy, red lips taste like poison, but she completes my twisted fantasies with twitching, grand satisfaction. The sexual viper bit, and sent a river of flames coursing down to the canals of my icy veins. She has lived with regrets from a dark, past life which leaves her unstable, untamed, and reckless. That’s why I call her, ember angel who rekindled from the draping and waking fires of the phoenix. I am her passive subject who longs to endure the pleasing pains inflicted from my abusive dominatrix. She who possesses the holy exorcists, and hisses as they stab themselves with their own sharpened crucifixes.

Beneath the spiked ceiling of her cruel, torturous palace, we drank angels’ blood dripping into a bejeweled chalice. We gazed from her balcony constructed in the sky and observed the glorious Jupiter and Venus align. Nero’s wildfire spread through the forests of time, and it crackled with vengeance inside her enthralled, vermillion eyes. The empress was enraptured by the sight of the inferno that scorched every morsel of earth that it could swallow. And for the heroes that would soon follow, the dirt roads were paved with lava from the volcano. She gloated from her blazing, levitating throne as the fire on her horned, ruby crown blown. As the ash blizzard snowed a thickening coat, the apocalyptic planet sorrowfully smoked.

Smear the soot off of your shallow window and be exposed to the glow of hot coals and brimstone.

The chaotic enchantress jumped down, and threw her glittering robe down to the ground. She revealed her dark, forbidden body that spun fantasy in the minds of men a plenty. She barbarically kissed my virgin lips and slashed my back with her fiery whip. She knew that I would knell and obey to her pervert mind and seductive ways. The carnal predator licked up my chest and salivated on areas that she knew best. I aimed my wet, throbbing phallus and stabbed it into her hungry orifice. As I inched through the thermal tunnel of fulfilling sex, her twisted magic granted wishes of untold fetishes. I was locked into a selfish euphoria of sweat that prophesied a legion of demons in my earthborn head. Moaning in an ecstatic mind set, the villainous goddess sank her vampiric teeth in my neck. Breeding the pain. Quivering to the pleasure. Both synced together in an explosive climax where the carnivorous harpy etched her claws down my back.

Savoring my sweet blood like a heartless heretic. Feeding on my desires like a sex-deprived nymphomaniac. Igniting fire to their churches like a pyromaniac. Hail to the lady of the wildfire. The infernal demon housed in the skin of an immaculate maiden. The mother of fuckers and murderous nymphos. The damsel who sings darkening hymns in an underworld full of fire nymphs and demonic goats. It is she who lights the lands with her blazing touch. It is she who rekindles summer’s warmth and melts winter’s diamond dust. Penetrating amidst heaven’s slashing breeze, she flaps like a bird over sunburst skies in the cursed form of a fire-breathing lizard. And through the vast lands of paradise, staffs arise to recognize her by the wicked hands of demented wizards.

She is the queen of kings, and when she sings, her lifting voice will be the trigger to encase the world in a seething hellfire. And I want to burn with her in her own consuming madness. I want to hear the screams of the innocent begging me to set them free from the witch’s orgy of chaos. For years, my eyes have been wandering inside her labyrinth of alluring fires. Tonight, the asteroids shall fall with the mystifying, meteor showers. If nobody releases me from my bewitched state of mind, remember that I was just a fallen star that the world left behind.

In an unlit dimension of oblivion, a hysterical cackle echoed through the seams of reality. Unexpectedly, a powerful voice hissed from outside the walls of humanity, “you, putrid drones of mortality. What is it that thou love? And is it I? I have a worthy proposition indeed, knell before me or DIE! Ripping off thy beautiful faces shall just amuse us. We are the fallen. Present thy ageing bodies to the ruby queen. I shall rape thee senselessly until we find that dark fantasy. Thy forgiving father shall let thee repent from thy most satisfying sin of thou life. Cain wasn’t able to live up to his fable. Ride with me amongst the back of the beast. I am the whore of Babylon. As havoc sweeps thy green lands, thou shall be greeted by my six, twin sisters, but none of them are as powerful or divine as I. Let me redeem thee from my punishing flames, let me shield thee with my crimson wings. My castle’s spire shall soon break through the soil to overworld. Arise, Beelzebub, lord of flies. Waken from thy enchanted sleep, Lilith, tempt the swine from their holy gardens. Churn the savage seas, Leviathan. I whom hath hid for centuries beneath the fabric of their diseased lives. I watched the fools build a foundation around a book of exaggerated lies. When humanity shuts their heavy eyes for a calm, serene dream, my chariot races toward the days when their lands are faithless and crumbling.”

(We don't own the rights to the image posted above.)

Alone (In The Shadows)

Alone (In The Shadows)

Locked in a world with no direction and no inspiration. These people are lost acquaintances that I knew in another time. I am walking outside in a world that is painted strictly black and white. I began favoring solitude, but it was only my faulty mind- that led me to believe that I would be happy, alone with no mankind. After a century of walking alone and talking to myself, I realized the bigger picture, I fucking hate myself. If I was born to be alone, then I hope I die alone. No inspirational funeral speeches and no motivational songs. I want you to remember me for what I was: mute, unhappy, and dead. I did this to myself. I am a martyr to the loneliness. Living inside my head, inventing a colorful adventure in this colorless wasteland. You thought I was happy, but you are a fool to my disguises. I am a misanthrope like the gorgon Medusa dwelling in her damp cave. I am a slave to your humanity, but “she” keeps me alive. She is my respiratory system that helps me breathe- in this fucked up world, that I want to leave.

You had two kids, why favor one over the other? You make me feel like a science experiment, compared to my brother. I just wish that I could talk to you, because everything is a joke in your clown world that will one day go up in smoke. Writing this feels like I’m spitting venom. I know that you will never fathom what I just wrote, because serious emotions are just a joke in your clown world that will one day go up in smoke.

Emptiness, the one who will not let go of the happiness imprisoned inside my soul. You gave birth to me, so what do YOU want me to be? A blasphemer for my opinions or a machine for mediocrity? I’m tired of being your place-holder puppet to make your perfect family complete. I am the hollow, porcelain doll who just has a smile drawn across his cheeks. So many hands try to pull my strings to make me do their worldly things. I don’t comprehend with a human mind. I am something else. I am one of a kind.

I feel cheated. Sheltered and mistreated. They wanted me to follow a failure’s path, but I’m still not defeated. I can’t be conquered. He’s not my father. He injected me with this incurable curse, and I can’t go any farther. This life was so unguided, unsupervised, and unstoppable. To push me into a society where I would be so lost and so vulnerable.

Well, I took the time for granted and hid in the shadows, where I lamented. Just like the walls that my parents raised to barricade me inside this safe. I’m looking out of the darkness and observing all the things that you do. I envy your normality. I wish you would befriend someone like me...because I’m misunderstood and there is a fire inside my heart. It wants to spring out of my soul and tear your whole damn world apart. I’m just so tired of being ugly, but I can’t help how I came out. An insecure, apathetic, baby born of the dark. I just feel all alone, but the darkness doesn’t make me scared. I have become one with the shadows and all of its despairs. We are all puppets whose strings are tied to past regrets and fabricated lies. You have to be fighting for what you believe in, if you are still alive. And it felt like I inhaled the Armageddon. Like good and evil was fighting inside, and through the trials and tribulations, I knew only the strongest men survive.

Storm Child (Pulse Of Levitas Telum)

"The trouble ain't that there is too many fools, but that the lightning ain't distributed right." -

Mark Twain

Storm Child

(Pulse Of Levitas Telum)

I’m trapped underneath these dark-grey storm skies. Waiting for my birthright fate to realize- a purpose or a dream that God had for me, when my mom conceived this unaware baby. Well, the tapping rainstorm and thunderous skies lifts this shivering body back to life. I’m following the boundaries of the pouring rain, in this forest that never appears the same. My eyes are locked with anticipation, due to my storm sky fascination. My heartbeat throbs with a lightning clash, I’m possessed to pursue Nature’s mortal tasks.

I, the tree of tranquility, born with a face of humanity. I, the seed of fertility, grown in the membrane of your darkest fantasies. And underneath these angry thunderstorms, powerful beings push to be born. So, free your spirits to the floating isles and renounce your mortality to the storm child.

She who shall let thou eyes behold the lightning bolts retrieve thy soul. She who shall purge thy earthborn heart and submerge it into the dark. A sovereign who rules the upward earth, whose prayers favor mortal hurt. A pervert goddess who churns the winds, whose bolts target mortal men. Her spurts of magic are attracted to lighting rods. She is an alluring succubus to all the other gods. A hellish majesty cursed with the menstrual cycle of the female breed. A heartless, seductress beast whose alerted eyes meet behind the sparking orbs of electricity.

She is the dragon that guards these battled skies from the intruders that collide inside her kingdom. She is a queen that flies on temper tantrums from her cloud throne in her stormy sanctum. And I shall participate to persuade the inflictions of her parade of pandemonium. There is no need for an introduction- for an angel with a chemical imbalance of destruction. Lighting chaos. Wind havoc. Rain mayhem. Malevolent addict, let your intimidating lighting bolts strike upon their harvest grounds. Let fires ablaze and give birth to the flaming gardens that shall soon surround. Madly striking your topaz staff from your royal throne. Upon your head, a crown composed of branching thorns of lightning bolts. Forfeit thy fragile bodies and submit thy feeble brains to the witch with a twitch for human redemption and a sprinkle of insane.

I am breathing with another’s breath. I am feeling with another’s skin. I am gazing inside hazy storm eyes, hearing my voice chant for immortal sins. My arms are lifted toward the skies, fingertips pulling without my mind. I am someone else at this hour in time, perhaps a storm child on this earth, confined. I can hear your thundering dragon growls crackling behind the grey storm clouds. Your dangerous flashes alight these lands with such a deadly beauty that I can understand.

I, the robed wanderer who journeys my life away. You, the unseen archer that darkens the sun of day. A turban wrapped around my head, the winds blow my shredded cape while I climb up the highest mountains in search for my escape. And YOU, my beautiful, imperial queen. Just PLEASE break these heavy chains of HUMANITY!

Such soft lips overlap mine in a slow, intimate kiss. A mysterious, shrouded face in the rain’s clouded mist. I admit defeat in her embrace of tingling intimacy, while she ravenously took away my earthborn virginity. My spirit followed her up to the dark clouds aligning, while I looked down and saw my lifeless body, electrocuted by her lightning. I crossed over into a kingdom built in the imagination of mortal horrors and twisted pleasures. There, my soul shall be kept forever above the warring, storm clouds of mother nature.

(The picture of Lightning above is copyrighted by Torsten Hufsky.)

Mummified, Yet Still Alive.

Mummified, Yet Still Alive.

And I opened up my heavy eyes to the darkness that had plagued the skies. Nooses swinging from the cherry trees. I know I will not be able to break free- from the scavengers squandering pieces of my life. Go ahead bully, intimidate me. Let me see what your parents are like in reality. Because I’m locked inside a childhood state wanting to get bit by the cobra snake. This is all a dream. The zombies have won and they are taking our heads to decapitate. And I am ready to be gagged by an apple, so red. So I can be put on a plate, and be fed to the cannibals. They say that a phoenix will bust out of the egg, that is the sun. They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but I have judged the book cover that you hold dearest to your son.

They say that a parade is coming, coming to pronounce me king. My mind always whispers to me, desires of such things. I got on their carousel made with skeletons of rotting horses. As the contraption spun me around, I began to see a blurry world of evil forces. Everyone I had met, thus far, were mutating into evil beings. They were manipulating naive children and playing with their feelings. I wasn’t going to be dizzy any longer on this suicidal carousel- that opens up the skins of cobras and exposes their inner-hell. My skinny, skeleton pony galloped over dessert dunes, in search for worthy people that could hum to snake charmer tunes.

Pyramids of corrupted evil. Pyramids of living dead. Pyramids of Egyptian Gods, still living inside your heads. Some died of thirst, and some fleshed out Pharaoh’s curse, but how can these entities be as cruel as the “mummies” living in YOUR universe? You people live like mummies. You are so fixed and so controlled. You wrap the world in ribbons of your own blindfold. You people live like dummies guarding the treasures of old. We are the humanoid jackals of night who bite off the heads of imbeciles. Through crawlspaces of temples, you hear us murmuring riddles- to resurrect ancient sphinxes and scarab beetles. A shadow creeps over your land in the body of a plague. As children drown in the swallowing quicksand, I know that they all cannot be saved.

To live in this denial age, just lower your hand into the cage. Stability and tranquility will help you stare into the cobra’s face. Hypnotize the viper’s deceptive eyes, but if you fail, you shall surely die. The sandstorm spins scarabs inside the ancient vortex that shall shred you alive. Your carrion shall quell the appetites of the vultures that guard the desert skies. And if your strong enough to survive, you have to challenge the sights of Horus’s eye.

The falcon flies around the piercing point of the pyramid. Will you sink into the glimmering sands, like all of the others did? The mystic hieroglyphics glitter upon the temple’s walls. Will you be there beside the Doberman Pharaoh as he watches your humanity fall? The animalistic Gods and Goddesses shall make their long awaited return while the candles of Egypt’s past quietly burn.

Is your friends camouflaged behind a serpent-skin facade? Is your life camouflaged behind a dreamy mirage? Splash some water in your eyes, so you can see- that your world is being overrun by mindless mummies.

You people act as zombies wrapped in preservation cloth. You people live like mummies worshiping the salvaged remains of an ancient tome, still lost. So, put me on your prayer list. Let them know that I exist. I bare many burning welts due to the rugged leather of the bible belt. So, whip me like a Pharaoh’s slave. Tell me how I need to think. Board me up ‘til no escape. Yet, the cobra’s venom still burns through my veins. You people live like mummies, you will never evolve through time. You will never adapt from anything, than thinking with “one” mind.

Angelic Sister Of The Garden

Candace Gayle Dodd

February 4th 1981 - May 13th 2010

I wrote this short writing in memory of Candace Dodd, Rachel’s sister and best friend. Not a lot of people can understand how quick of a bond that two individuals can have, Rachel and Candace is a prime example. They both longed for a father in their life, and when he perished, Rachel and Candace met for the first time since childhood. Their devastating loss brought them together. Most siblings are not as close as Rachel and Candace were. They understood each other on so many levels. She was so beautiful and full of life. No one will ever understand why Candace had to leave us that night. She fell asleep beside Rachel on May the 13th; she didn’t wake up four hours later. As reality slowly hit Rachel, she acknowledged that her life would never be quite the same. It never will be. Candace was her best friend that she confided everything to, everything that the rest of the world would not understand. Candace was the last person to read my novel. She told me that she liked my creative writings. Well, this one is all for you Candace. You meant so much to me and Rachel.

(Side note: This writing is a direct sequel to a writing called, “The Garden That Bloomed.”It was about their father. The “garden” represented in this writing is symbolic for a place of tranquility, such as heaven. The “three” flower blossoms represent Rachel’s, Candace’s, & their father’s spirits.)

Angelic Sister Of The Garden

(Serenity, Never Doubt My Love For You.)

Beyond the fence of this enchanted orchid, bluebirds are perched upon unreachable limbs. Above your head, there they sit, chirping to soothe mortal’s mournful hymns. They claim that an angel came and took her away with a distraught face that resembled her daddy’s. She was born with a throbbing heart of life, but even the purest of hearts are sacrificed. Her smile was a symbol of serenity, and her memories shall live on through eternity. Open your pretty, mortal eyes.

Watch her smiling, laughing, and guarding mortal ties. From a garden, she watches you struggle and strive in a broken world called the human life. She knows that you love her, she knows that you care, she just wishes that she could be with you there.

She was born into a world so damp and hollow, but she found her lost sister in a funeral home of sorrows. When their brown eyes met- could it finally be, that their lives were destined to be complete? They filled the voids in each others hearts, while a piece of their life was falling apart. They searched the world for one to understand- the emptiness because of this man. Undeniable, yet so beautiful. Two pure hearts that are so inseparable. Two twin statues rejoined through a loss. A tragedy for a miracle. An unfair cost.

So let’s sing something worth singing. Let’s show the world “her” meaning. Let’s just sing something worth singing, before “her” last suns a gleaming. The butterflies are fluttering and the treetop is teetering. Let’s just sing something worth singing before her final moons a beaming.

Pink flower buds bloom from the high arms of a tree- which hangs off of a ledge at a dangerous degree. The winds release three and set them free and they float into the currents of a slithering stream. And from that winding stream to the cerulean sea, they reconnect upon the shore of a peaceful beach. And together they shall form humanity’s seed. Together forever, entwined inside the bark of a tree, shut out from the world, sleeping for all eternity. Through the blazing light of the golden sun to the ghostly light of the silver moon. All plants have stories, all plants have places, all plants have lives in the garden that bloomed.

She says like a whisper to her little sister, “Embrace me until the end of time. I will forever be by your side. You haven’t lost. Some cannot be saved. Our love and understanding cannot be erased.”

The tranquil angel emerged up through the garden's flowers. Where fireflies attempted to light up this darkened world. You were all alone, but she was actually standing there for hours- just trying to save the little girl.

The Car (Dead Man's Cliff)

THE CAR (DEAD MAN'S CLIFF)

Burning off the obsessive smell of gasoline, I am the car that travels through life, and gets damaged by weather and oncoming traffic. I am the driver-operated machine that stops for turning cars, pulls over for emergency vehicles, and waits for the turning, arrow light. My body is made of bendable metal. It gets dinged by hailstorms and all of the damaging things that hit me. For some of you, I may have been driving too fast, and now you are the insects being smeared by my windshield wipers. I get abused by my drivers. They sometimes take their day’s anger out on me- which leads to burnt cigarette holes in my seats. Sometimes, I feel like a mistake- by the many times that you have spilt your drinks on me. Sir, these stains are still cloth-deep. There’s a bottle of fabric cleaner in the backseat. Why don’t you just clean me up, WHY?

Isn’t my transportation services worth the satisfying sprinkles of a good carwash? Don’t I sometimes deserve to be sparkly clean for the sporty cars cruising down West Boulevard?

My steel, heart chamber wants to explode- because you’re neglecting on changing my monthly oil. Sometimes, I want to strangle you and your screaming children with my nylon seat belts. I’m just getting tired of the same travel, the same grade of gasoline, and the same abuse. Now, I’m straining up this hill. I’m contemplating on taking control of the wheel. I want to be released. I want our roles to shift. I want to drive off of Dead Man’s cliff. And after that catastrophe, I just want to see- what cheap, mechanical parts are left moving of me.

The unforgiving weather leaves me chipping and rusting. My owner says my milage makes me that less trusting. My trunk is filled with dark secrets (layered with dead bodies.) God man, your just a fraud man that likes to fool EVERYBODY! You’ve hidden the evidence of your adultery in my backseat. A lesser iteration of a weakling. A viper pumped with deceit. My wipers are spraying the windshield, representing me crying. You have so many faces, why don’t you just stop trying? Pity is such a precious price to pay for his petty life. Pity is such a precious price to pay for his petty life. He is losing while we’re cruising in the heart of the decay of night. I’m revving up my engine, anticipating the change of the green light.

I want you to know that I am...The Soul In Control. I have a hold of the pedal, and I’m ready to go. This ghost breathing inside the steel ribs of your car. You hold the keys to this curse, no matter where you are. I pressed the pedal to the floor. I heard my demon engine roar. I felt the momentum in'store...and as I made a quick, reckless shift, we sped off the tip of Dead Man’s Cliff! DEAD MAN’S CLIFF! DEAD MAN’S CLIFF! We’re soaring through these polluted skies like a derailed train, about to die. And when we crash, I hope that nothing remains, but a shattered windshield and a red bloodstain.

Now were swerving like a drunk driver speeding down life’s congested interstate. A colossal, semi truck speeds up and sideswipes us, over in my lane. The juggernaut truck crashes and smashes into my driver-side door. I ejected the air bags to barricade a cage around my owner.

As traffic hit me, my body began burning. It was the cage to keep him alive. Into the foggy distance, my headlights glared into a behemoth creature’s eyes. It had eighteen horns that pointed up like spears into the dead of night. My speedometer reached its limit, and at this point, I didn’t care. That deer slammed into my windshield, and stabbed its antlers into my master. We rolled over the guardrails and sank into the ripples of the midnight sea. Underwater, my owner gave me a confession, that even you would not believe.

Random Update 03/18/10 (Alice In Wonderland Review, Sonic The Hedgehog 4, American Idol, & Restaurant City)

The past few days, I’ve been stressing out over finding a job. I search for “IT Technician” jobs in the search bar on monster.com, but it always gives me unsatisfying results. Either, the jobs have nothing to do with a computer technician, or it’s located in Nashville. I’ve been out of school for about 3 months, now; I’ve only applied for one job. I thought I had a good chance of getting the job, but I guess- I was wrong.

I recently finished reading Marilyn Manson’s autobiography, The Long Hard Road Out Of Hell. If anyone wants to know how the most controversial, mainstream artist became who he is, read this book. It’s packaged with a lot of eye-raising surprises. Last week, I sent off the Cinder Fingers book idea to an agent in New York. I probably won’t hear a response back, until two months. Until then, I’m writing on my new novel, & poetic brainstorms- like the one that I posted recently, > http://therevelationofarevolution.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-lifes-torturing-punishment.html#comments

For months, I’ve been playing an app on facebook called, Restaurant City. It lets you manage your own, virtual Restaurant: you get to choose what dishes you serve to your customers, decorate your Restaurant’s exterior and interior, hire avatars representing any of your friends, earn ingredients to unlock new dishes, trade ingredients with friends, level up to get a bigger restaurant, prevent disasters from happening to your friend’s restaurants, bury seeds in your garden to grow into plant ingredients, and earn coins to purchase from their catalogue of items. Each week, they introduce new items from a variety of different themes. For example, my restaurant is called, King Tut’s Pool; it’s a restaurant based in Egypt. Restaurant City came out before Café World. Café World’s fast popularity came from its paid advertisements. It’s made by the same company as Farmville; so, many of the Farm addicts probably raced over to Café World, thinking it was totally original.

I’ve been a BIG fan of American Idol, this year. I’ve been voting for my favorite contestants- like a drug addict needing a hook up. I’ve NEVER been a fan of American Idol, until last year, when I heard Adam Lambert’s sick, high-pitched vocals. There is just so many talented people on that show. It makes the audience feel like they are a part of it, since they get to participate- by calling in and voting. Simon Cowell is one of my favorite judges, because he reminds me of myself a lot. He states his unfavorable opinions, whether the world is ready to hear them, or not. Simon is leaving after this year, because he’s bringing his show, X factor, to the states. Paula Abdul got replaced by Ellen Degeneres. For Season 9, Ellen brings her quirky humor to the show, which the judge panel desperately needed. Recently, I’ve instantly became connected with contestant, Crystal Bowersox. It’s like our souls are running on the same frequency level. I believe that her raw, natural talent will take her far in life. I love success stories, that’s why I like American Idol. There are just so many great contestants performing on stage, each week. Here is a good example of Siobhan amazingly performing, Rolling Stone’s “Paint it Black”

If the video up ^above^ doesn't start loading, click here.> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9OPQdoXP3k

Last week, I went to see Alice In Wonderland 3D. It’s not an exact remake of the Walt Disney classic that you love. It’s more of a sequel. Alice has grown up, since her first adventure in Wonderland. (This entry is based off of Lewis Carroll’s books, Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland & its sequel, Alice Through The Looking Glass.) It DOES have some sleepy parts; that being said, Rachel fell asleep through some of it. For me, it filled in many of the lost details missing from the first, Alice In Wonderland. In story, it makes the original look half-baked. I, personally don’t think it’s going to be remembered as an epic story like, The Labyrinth, with David Bowie. Tim Burton could of used some of the uplifting music from the original, to make it seem less lifeless, at times. He could quit putting the pale makeup on his actors; it didn’t look right on Alice. Though, I like how his iteration of Alice In Wonderland was more honest with Lewis Carroll’s original vision. I like how he doesn’t take out the sadistic, brutal parts- like Alice chopping off the dragon’s head. The story is told in an inspirational atmosphere that looks believable in 3D. If it just acted more like a remake- with the original music, this would have been purely epic. I give it a *** out of **** stars.

By the way, for all of you hardcore, Sega Genesis fans out there. Sonic The Hedgehog 4 is coming out exclusively to download on X-box Live, The Playstation Network, & Wiiware. That’s right, it’s the official, 4th entry of the ‘original’ Sonic The Hedgehog series. Don’t believe me? Look at the screen shot up above. Now, this is gonna be an epic return for the blue hedgehog.