Broken Up Thoughts (Vulgar)

Starting over once again
Here I am tell me what to do
I’m not sure why I am the way I am
Love the abuse I assume
Respect me for what I am not what you see
Asking the world to accept something that it can’t
Lost within the confines I set up myself
Built the wall only to rip it down for no reason at all
Waste of time
Standing for nothing yet pretending it makes me something
On the fence I suppose
Get me out of here, in my head
Too long of a vacation with nowhere to go
Locked away, deep inside
Sometimes saying something is saying nothing at all
So many words that I hate, use them over and over again
Bleeding ideas from my head
Forgive the fact I have nothing to say
Respect that I’ll try any ways

Most days I feel like killing myself. I don’t know what that says about my normal state of mind, but I’m guessing these feelings are on the wrong side of good. Pick myself up off the floor and keep going. I’m not going anywhere at a fast rate of speed and neither are these feelings. I try too hard for things that should come naturally. I try too hard for the things I think I want and half ass everything else. I have a mental disorder I think. I think I’m dumb or just stupid enough to not get it. By it I mean life. What is the point? To feel like this almost every day? I guess I’m succeeding in the end after all. Swimming in shit has been my life all along. A life line made of razor blades dangles in front of me. Should I take it or move on from these self-imposed feelings in my head?

Mix of emotions about how I feel
On one hand I care on the other
You could all burn in Hell
Damnation or something worse
Not sure, don’t care
It won’t matter once you’re all gone
Irresponsible, irregardless
Words don’t mean shit unless
You give them meaning
With love from my throne of broken bones
Forever condemned to live through your sins

How can we be more than half of the world’s population and still be in this kind of shit? Because men control much more than half of the world’s money. Money equals power, power equals control. We took the easy way out and now we have to take the long hard road to get to where we should have been all along. Is this sexist? It feels fucking sexist and I have been looking at it for over a year to try and make it not feel sexist. But I think I am trying too hard to make it not sexist that it is becoming sexist no matter what. Is it sexist to speak the truth? How does one judge something based solely on words and not actions? Am I a fucking sexist for caring if I might be one or for what I say? Women deserve better than the way we treat them, but some of it they do themselves. If you want to drive, fucking drive. If you want to wear something, fucking where it. Fuck anyone who tells you different. You be you and that is all that matters. .

Being An Ass At The Center Of The Universe

It is different, it is profound. You speak as if you know everything and nothing at the same time. You speak as if you are the human race trapped in time and space. The words fill the page but they have no real meaning. Because truly words have no meaning other than the ones that we give them. A book like a list of words is lost on those and anyone who reads them will little concern. A story is nothing more than a beginning, middle, and an end. You travel with and against the story as if you have something to say. But as I listen I quickly realize there was nothing there at all.

This is the story. These bits and piece lost between the big words. The nothingness of it all is all you are trying to say. As I watch the cigarette burn down to ash. As I watch the thought escape my head in between everything I’ve said and everything I have not. A thought crosses my mind. A profound and different existence on a lost plane of suffering.  But is this life? Is this the truth that every great writer is trying to say?

Nothing matters when everything is said and done. Your words have no meaning as mine don’t here and now. History spreads their lies in order to prove that we must survive. We’ve faced much worse yet look we are still here. We’ve said much worse yet we are still fine. They say actions and words have consequences, but they are only temporary. So say as you please, do as you will. If religion is truth then nothing you say or do was your choice. A running theme and I wonder why? Puppets of a story with no time and place. The world rattles out of control. Yet you stand right in place. As “God” has intended you stand right in space…

A Lie Preview

Slowly But Surely

The teacher slams a paper I had written down on the desktop in front of me. It’s more of a table since there are four of us sitting at it but it is a desk none the less. She storms off without saying a word. I honestly don’t even remember writing a paper for this class let alone attending it long enough to actually work on an assignment.

The Female Condition

Something I have noticed about community college is there are more females than males. The ratio is really fucked up. In most situations having those kinds of odds really isn’t a problem. Even though this is not a problem it still makes me wonder why. It is a known fact that the female brain develops much earlier than their male counterpart and by that scientific logic we can only assume that they learn much quicker because of it, but it is also well known that females will do nothing with their degrees. Even in this day and age, it is almost a complete waste of time and effort for a female to even go to college. It is too sad for words really and even more pathetic when you know what I am saying is true. Why even come to school or amount to anything if no matter how smart you are you will still end up with the same outcome, house cleaning, and daycare. It would suck and does suck to be a woman. Even a strong woman is nothing more than a sexual being needed to reproduce and make useless beings. Unless they give up on that whole ideal and even when they do they are considered some other sexual creature, like a lesbian. The worst part of all of this that even if they manage to make use of this degree they will still be expected to do the house cleaning and daycare. Not to mention the female is expected to drop out of said career that they worked so hard to get into at the drop of an infant to perform said duties or they are forced to work two jobs, to spread their legs when they are told, and eventually lose track of all their values and goals for the greater good of the family. So basically getting pregnant is nothing more than a long goodbye. Or they could never get married and get to hear the wondering whispers behind their backs about being either a whore or a freak. Options the world is full of them but for a woman, they are few and far between. Personally, I’d chose to be the whore. Who gives a fuck what other people think, but I also am not a woman so my opinion is that of an outsider. No matter what I have come to the overall general conclusion that the reason there are more women in community college than men is because their families don’t want to waste the money for them to go to school or to learn. Especially when they were born with all the knowledge they will ever need right out the gate. This could be why in the long scheme of life woman were married off at a younger age so they could get a solid jump on their future careers. Oh and the ones that do pay the top dollars for their darling daughters to go to a university or state college either have the money to burn or see some type of promise in them through either cleaning up after somebody’s bowel movement or babysitting some snot nose brats who will blame all their future problems on some female teacher because she just wanted them to learn. Being a woman is like winning a free ticket to hell. No, being a woman is like finding out you are adopted and your family never wants to see you because you suck and no one loves you so go kill yourself and are handed a knife to do it with. So in conclusion women should probably avoid school in general since the outcome is nothing more than a baby sitter and ass wiper.

“First off this is a Biology class and not a write whatever is on your mind class. Secondly, as a female and a teacher, I am both horrified and appalled that you could even think like this. You have a mother and you should be ashamed of what has been said here. Lastly as a teacher if you are going to write such sexist garbage might I suggest cleaning up some of the run on sentences or at the very least have some sort of clear and concise idea of what you are talking about. I have to be honest I feel embarrassed for you if this is how you truly think let alone write for other classes. Since this was not the assignment due you will be given only 40% credit for at least turning something in.” Is written in red ink at the bottom of the paper. See you don’t even have to try in life to earn some credit. I smile at the teacher as she looks at me in disgust. Honestly, I don’t even know why I wrote such a horrible paper. But it must have been how I felt at the time.

 

The Myth

I love to walk among them. I love to see just how they treat one another, but most of all I want to see how they treat me. I do it to feel powerful and I love the power I have over each and every one of them. Though none of these people know just how powerful I truly am. They all fail to realize that they are under my control. That it is I who controls every aspect of their simple lives. That it is I who can destroy everything that they hold dear in seconds without lifting a single finger. I control everything and they have no idea. No one can ever understand what this really means. I’m here amongst them to enjoy their mistreatment. I enjoy their displeasure most of all, but I enjoy it more after witnessing them first hand. It is fascinating to watch these simple creatures made of flesh and blood. To watch how quickly they will turn on each other over something that doesn’t even exist but inside their heads.

These creatures value money as if it has any true value once they are gone. These creatures gorge themselves on anything they can fit their mouths around all the while children starve to death as they proclaim they are still hungry. Then there are the creatures that kill in my name so they can take over a land that isn’t even theirs. They destroy the very creatures I have made just to get their way. They drag my name through all the blood, all the pain, all the suffering of these creatures just so they can feel justified in disobeying me. If there is one thing I have learned in all this time it is that there is a flaw in the design of man.

Free will was bestowed to these creatures in hope that they could control themselves. That these creatures would one day not need a God to control them, but sadly their free will is wasted on jealousy and greed. I once had a dream, but it has long been lost on man. I have given up and I have given in. Some days I wonder if it is was truly I that has created these creatures, these monsters. These creatures say that they were made in my image, but they are most certainly not. A god does not create such dirty filthy degenerate things such as man. A god creates a world in which he wants to live in. A god creates a myth of how things should be and not how it is or so it seems thanks to man. A god may have control, but to have power I learned that I must destroy. And I have come to enjoy in that destruction, that chaos that mankind seems to enjoy so much. I have learned that I may not have made man from my image, but they most certainly have made me from theirs.

Pretty raw story… I wrote this years ago… I’ve expanded greatly on this idea… Which will feature heavily in my next short story book… Running Into Traffic… It was fun looking back on this story… After finishing the story that was based on this concept… It is strange years later how I changed a lot of the story and yet it is similar in the end… Well, this “story,” wasn’t much of a story, but a thought stuck in my head… 

Something Different

Stuck Choking On the Words

Surrounded in ash I begin to wonder
When this all had to end
Reflection of everything I hate
Your name tattooed on the inside of my skin
Hate to hate you any longer
If I could change one thing it wouldn’t be me
Self confidence in the worst of situations
Breaking open thoughts, looking for something
A memory of when this mattered
End of draft one, it is okay to turn away
A new level of dissatisfaction and regret
Blinded by a dying sun
The dark spots around your eyes permanently stuck
Don’t blame you for wanting more
Got nothing left to tell, if only my brain would shut up

 

A Crooked Smile For the Devil Inside Us All

I’m a fool for believing, I’m a fool for dreaming
A jester, a joke in my own head and yours
I tell lies to tell stories
Painted pictures of deceit
Yet what is there to believe
Our lives so dull though they still manage to cut
Like blades in our hearts, the blades in our backs
Slowly killing any real thoughts we have left
Work hard to work harder
Each day a testament of will
The hard part isn’t the work
The hard part is giving in
Dragging ourselves through sin
Blood on the tracks and I can’t resist
To keeping digging in
I wanted this more than it seems
An end to the beginning, a plot without a device
The words are deceitful but they feel so real

I wrote a children’s book called, “Who the Fuck Cares.” Looking for illustrators or anyone interested.

 

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Throat of the World

One day, evening
I thought about God
Relationships and relations too
Sitting in the clouds
Could we really be all there is to talk about
Poisons in the bloodstream
Drive us to do unthinkable things
Ripping our own skin from our bones
We dance around like fiends
Ever discovering our needful needs
I think about Christ
I think of passion
I believe in fire
The words escape me
Lodged in my heart
I’m always watching
Perched even higher
Standing at the threshold
Between heaven and hell

Often

I often wonder what it feels to die
Does it feel like I do now
All alone with no one to talk too
I do this to myself
Yet I don’t know the answers to my own questions
I often wonder how soon
Will all this prove to be meaningless
They say you pave your own way
But what if it’s not true
What if this is nothing more than a collection
Of me and you
I often wonder about God
Am I him or is it you
All reason would lead to nothing at all
I feel like I know what I’m saying
But in the end, it all seems to come out the same
Blood in blood out and all that shit
Maybe life is nothing more than a brotherhood
Of bull shit
I do this to myself
Get all upset for no good reason
I often wonder what it feels to die
And I know it has to feel like this

Two more poems from my first poetry collection… And Other Things From This Time… A bit on the sad side this week I’m afraid… I’ve talked a little bit about the dark period of my life that I went through and these were written during that period… A warning for those of you that follow my blog… Thank You… this month’s previews will feature a few more from that dark period… So things may get a little rocky… But I am all “better” now… haha.. Okay… I’m doing better than when I wrote them… Hope all is well…

 

Salvation Can Be A Sin

I attend the morning mass for the first time in over a year. I usually can only make it to church at night thanks to the long late nights. Since I won’t be able to attend tonight I traded in sleep for prayer. The church is empty. Always so empty. Maybe after tonight that will no longer be the case. Those that are here put a rare smile on my face. It is good to know that not everyone in this city is lost. The bombs have all been set and the plan is in full effect I tell the lord. Today your message will seep into the minds of everyone and be on the lips of the damned as they flee with fear. Those who do not run in fear will be graced by my bullets and they do not forgive nearly as much as you. May the lord bless me as I full fill his sermon in his name and his honor. I take the body of the Christ into my mouth and swallow his blood as if it is my own. I am prepared to die today and every day in the name of Christ, the Lord, and the Holy spirit. I am how he has made me. I accept death. I accept it for what it is and what it means. I want to feel it’s cold hands pull me up to heaven, pull me up to let me know that I am done, but until that day I am prepared to do what needs to be done.

I arrive to the spot five hundred yards from the prison at about half past nine. Most of the prisoners should be out on the yard right now, but in fifteen minutes they will have to start heading back to their cells. The plan is to set off the charges at ten, which guarantees that all the prisoners will be in their cells. I unloaded my detonators, my rifle case, and my high-powered binoculars from the back seat of my car. It truly is a beautiful day today. The sun is shining, the sky is empty, and the air is warm. The lord could not have created a better day and these sinners couldn’t ask for a better day to die. I set my detonators on the grass as if I was laying out a picnic. Preparing for the feast of souls I set up my high-powered rifle as well. The craftsmen ship of the Remington R-25 is something to admire. It is the newest of the rifles and the most powerful one I have. This rifle is mostly used by the military so, getting my hands on one wasn’t easy. The R-25 is my insurance policy to make sure anyone left alive finds their way to the ground. The R-25 is mostly stock with the only modifications being to the magazine in both size and reload capabilities. By the time I look through my high-powered binoculars I can see the prisoners making their way back into the building. As I make my last-minute checks to the system of detonators and sight my rifle into position I can hear the pre-recorded speech come through the speakers all around the prison. Even from this distance I can hear it loud and clear.

“To all guards, medical personal, and support staff of the prison this is your fifteen minute warning to evacuate this facility. The prisoners are to remain in their cells. Anyone caught freeing prisoners will be executed. No judges and no jury. This is not a test. Your time begins now.”

You shouldn’t feel bad about the damned I tell myself. Up until now they have pretty much gotten a free ride. The handle of the rifle feels wet in my hands. I’m nervous, but after this there is no going back. The plan has already been put into motion, but when I press the button this doesn’t end until it ends. May your blood be of Christ and your souls open to salvation. Amen. I push the button on the detonator to my left. The board lights up. There is a slight delay as the board sends out the final signal to all the explosives in the prison. Each building begins to explode simultaneously. The bottoms blow out of the buildings spreading fire around each one. Those on the first floor come out on fire and screaming. Before more have a chance to exit the second wave of explosives bring what is left of the buildings down to their knees. It is beautiful in a magical way. I almost expect God to reach through the clouds of smoke and collect the lost souls himself. My hands aren’t so nervous anymore and my mind is only on the mission at hand. Slowly a few people begin to emerge from the ruble and the flames. More screams erupt from the prison. With my rifle ready I begin to take out anyone left making their way out of the buildings. Guard or prisoner it doesn’t matter. The sounds of sirens begin to drown out the cries for help. Reload. I don’t see any rescue vehicles. Reload. I know they are coming, but they are at least five minutes from the prison and another five from where I am. Reload. I line up shot after shot. Taking anyone I can. Reload. As I prepare to put down another sinner another massive explosion sets off a chain reaction through the grounds. The gas line I presume. Reload. I watch as the carnage increases taking out the outlying buildings and guard stations. I scan the charred remains and bits of rumble for anything still left moving. The sirens get louder and louder, and I can know see the rescue vehicles arriving at what used to be the entrance. I hear the distinct sound of a helicopters in the distance long before I can see them. More people emerge from the ruins of the facility. I fire off every round left in my clip. I don’t have enough time. I thought I would have more. It is okay because I have prepared for this. If only the police were so quick to rescue the innocent there might not be a need for my services, my existence. I hear a helicopter closing in on my position along with more sirens. I stand up and walk away from my gun. I take my jacket off and lay it down next to me. There is no use trying to get away at this point. I put my hands on my head as I wait for the police helicopter to find me. It hovers in front of me. Words blaring from its loud-speaker tell me to do what I am already doing. Not long after two squad cars pull up behind me. Still I don’t move with my hands on my head. The officers tell me to get down on my knees and I comply as they tell me to drop on to my belly. I am slapped with handcuffs and checked for weapons in a matter of seconds. Two officers pick me up off the ground and they escort me to a police cruiser. They read me my rights and stuff me into the back seat. There is already an officer in the driver seat. I can tell from his eyes he is not happy to see me by the tone of his voice. “Why did you do this you sick fuck?” The officer screams at me. “If you don’t see it now then you are never going to get it,” I calmly respond back. “What is your fucking problem?” He yells at me again. His partner enters on the passenger side, “Hey leave him the hell alone.” Probably the best advice he has ever given in his life. I put my face real close to the cage, “I answer to a higher power.” The driver’s fist pounds the cage of the police car. The first of many fists I will be seeing today.

The police at the station are as welcoming as the officer in the car. They choose to ask questions with their fists and by kicking me while I’m down rather than asking me with their mouths. I can’t blame them for their reactions they don’t see the big picture yet. Best to give it time and let it sink in. I don’t say a word or show an ounce of pain, and it pisses them off more and more. “My wife works there you sick son of a bitch. You better hope they find her still breathing or they won’t be finding you that way,” one of the overly polite officers says before smashing in my nose. I let the officers get good and bloody before finally speaking. “I want my lawyer,” I tell them. “Oh you hear that guys he wants his fucking lawyer,” one of the officers says as he rubs his bloody hands with fresh wounds on his knuckles. “Like we give a shit,” another one strikes back. He strikes me hard across my face and I can feel my teeth loosening in my jaw. Blood sprays out of my mouth and all over the officer’s face. He wipes it away as they all have a nice hearty laugh at my expense. His face a twisted mess of madness and joy. I see the devil in his eyes. I look the next officer right in the eyes, fist ready to strike, and I calmly tell him, “I have A.I.D.S. The look of horror in the room is worth every broken rib, every chipped tooth, and every last drop of blood on their fists. An honest smile fills my face for the first time in a long time. I watch as they all flee the room. Tripping over one another at the door. Rats scurrying in the light that is God. “He works in mysterious ways,” I shout behind them.

I’m treated with much greater care as I am escorted to my own jail cell. The walk is nearly silent. The only noise I hear is the news reporting on my sermon at the end of the hall. I am in my own cell no longer than five minutes before a gloved up doctor comes in to stitch me up. She places her medical supply case on the bed next to me. She is wearing gloves that go all the way up to her elbows and a medical mask. She seems scared, but maybe it is only nervousness. I can see it in her eyes though her hands are steady. I’m still in handcuffs, but there is still an officer standing by my side ready to put a bullet in my head. The doctor doesn’t say a word as she stitches up the gashes on my face. “I feel like hamburger,” I tell her. She doesn’t even so much as smile at me. After she is done patching me up the doctor takes out a syringe and draws some blood before exiting my cell. The officer follows her and after the door slams closed I’m advised to slowly walk to the cell door and turn around. He undoes my handcuffs and informs me they are having a hard time finding me a lawyer. In the mean time I am to sit and wait until they find a lawyer to represent me. He looks me straight in the eyes and tells me he hopes I rot in hell. So, there are a few believers left out there even in here I think. However, I will be far from the burning depths of hell when all is said and done. I take a seat on the bed. It is time to rest I think to myself as I close my eyes.

I am woken by the tapping of a baton on my cell door. The artificial light has taken over. How long have I been asleep? “Wake the fuck up scum bag,” the officer at my cell door screams. He is not the same officer that was at my cell last so, he must work the night shift. “We found you a lawyer.” I rise from my cot and the pain from the broken ribs almost drops me to my knees. If I thought my face hurt before I went to sleep I was sadly mistaken. I don’t let the guard see my pain. I turn my back to the guard as he slaps the cold cuffs onto my wrists. I play his little dog and pony tricks on the way to the interrogation room. The room is nice and clean compared to the last one they had me in. “You didn’t have to clean on my account,” I tell the officer. “Save it for the trial. Your lawyer will be in shortly,” the guard grunts at me. My chair is place against the wall and as far from the table as possible. The officer doesn’t bother removing my handcuffs. “Get up from that chair and,” the officer begins. “And what you are going to beat my ass?” The officer’s face turns a nice shade of red before he exits the room. Idle threats are useless at this point. My lawyers enter the room as promised a few minutes later. He is a young man who probably just passed the bar exam, and is looking for a good case to get his name out there. “My name is James Raven,” he reaches out to shake my hand, but since they’re still in cuffs he pulls his hand back. “They do that to your face?” He asks. “Probably had it coming anyways,” I say to him. “You did do a very bad thing, but I’m not here to tell you that or cast judgment.” He takes a seat in his chair. “Is what I did truly that awful?” I ask him. “If you have to ask what do you thinking?” He takes out a note pad. “I did as I was told and what I did was right.” “Who told you to do these things?” He asks. “God,” I say sternly. “So we don’t have to rule out an insanity plea,” he says without looking up from his note pad. “You don’t believe me?” “I don’t have to believe a single thing you say the courts do.” “I realize that, but I asked you?” He looks up from his note pad and stares into my eyes, “What does it matter?” I don’t back down from his stare. “I need to know if you are with me or not.” Raven gets up from his chair and starts to pace the room. “With you on what? Do you know that every attorney in this city turned down your defense, and there are a lot of lawyers in this town?” I sigh, “Legally they have to appointment me a lawyer.” Raven takes a seat once again, “Yeah and the last five used every favor they had to avoid you. I had no favors and I had no choice. So what difference does it make?” “It makes all the difference Raven. Tell me do you believe in God?” He rubs his forehead, “That’s irrelevant at this point.” “Yes or no?” I stare Raven in the eyes once again. “Yes, I do believe in God. Why would that matter at this moment? This is about you not me.” “Because he told me to do what I did and what I do. I am his servant Raven.” He writes down every word I am saying on his legal pad. “I’m not crazy. God chose me as his messenger of death.” “Wait did you just say messenger of death? I nod my head never breaking eye contact. “You’re the one who’s been terrorizing the city for the past few years? Taking out drug dealers, rapists, and anyone who stands in your way?” I nod again. “Dear God.” “Watch it boy.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just, do you know what kind of trouble you are already in? And now this? Do the cops know?” “I have no idea and I don’t care.” “There has never been an execution in this state and they are going to fry your ass. If I was you I would care a whole hell of a lot.” “Only one judgment I fear and it will not be handed down by man.” “Not to be an ass, but you are insane and that’s a good thing. If we have any chance of beating these charges it will be because of that fact.” “I told you Raven. I’m not crazy.” “But you are. Don’t you at least see that? Let’s say God actually told you to blow up that prison and kill all those people. Let’s say I believe every word you tell me. It will not matter. Do you have any idea how crazy all of that will sound in court? The jury is going to think that you are stark raving mad.” “Because their faith is weak. In time everyone will understand what I have done.” Raven slams his fist on the table, “They already understand everything they need to understand. It’s all over the news. Madman blows up state prison and they don’t even know who you are. Once it gets out who you are. All of this will only get even crazier. No matter what you say no one is going to believe a word of it.” “And why is that? People once believed Moses and the burning bush. I’m not the first man to talk to God.” “Why?” He tosses some medical papers in front of me. I read it the best I can off the floor, but Raven sums it all up for me. “Moses didn’t lie to his people. You’re not H.I.V. positive. Hell you don’t even have diabetes. That’s lie one right there. If you really are who you say you are there are at least a hundred deaths under your belt before today. Two of which I might add are your own wife and son. Something else Moses and the burning bush never did either.” “No that is untrue. They moved away from here to some place out west.” “No, they were supposed to move some place out west, but instead they were found with bullet holes to their heads. So they never quite made it.” “There is no way. They’re not dead.” “Face it Stan either you plead insanity or you’re going to fry.”

My names not Stan or is it? I don’t know anymore. I have been so many people in the last few years I can’t remember, but I know my family is not dead. “I’m not done here yet.” “What?” Raven asks. “I said I’m not done yet. I’m still needed by God.” Raven calls for the officer outside the door, but it’s too late. The proximity bomb was triggered as soon as I got near this wall, and as soon as I get up from my chair I have less than thirty seconds to take cover. I kick the table over on its side and take cover the best I can. I was hoping the guard would have undone my cuffs, but I was prepared either way. I dislocate my left thumb and force my hand through the cuff. “What the hell is going on?” Raven asks while standing outside of the protection zone. “I’m sorry.” As the officer opens the door he is greeted by the blast of my escape route. The table shields me from most of the shattered wall. Sadly I can’t say the same for Raven. I can’t tell if he is alive or breathing, but I don’t have time to check. I hop over the table and jump down the ten feet down to the ground level. I land hard on a parked car, but it feels better than landing on concrete pavement. Wounded but not down I disappear into the night just as quickly as I came. My methods maybe extreme. They may be seen as hostile. I am justified and I am far from done. I gave God my word. I intend to do his work until my soul is ready to pass on.

 

Author’s Note: This story is part of a larger story. The third part to be exact. It was not based on anyone living or dead or any real world event. This story was one of my early stories written back in 2010.

Back then I really wanted to work for Marvel comics and I really wanted to write the Punisher. I came up with this character who was in a sense Frank Castle only guided by God or his idea of God. I had this whole scene in my head of the two with guns pointed right at each others heads and not being able to pull the trigger. Which one is the hero and which one is the villain type of story. Naturally I need a back story for my character. The original story was that back story. I don’t work for Marvel comics so, I decided to use it as a stand alone story. I chopped it down for the post today. The only thing missing out of the story is more context on his mission and him setting up the bombs in the prison. 

This story was in no way an attempt to capitalize or honor events that have happened  since I wrote the story. Why post it? Sometimes as writers of fictions we write fiction and later life makes it true. I wrote the story because I liked the character. Even all these years later I like the character. I still want to see him go up against Frank Castle. We are human therefore we are animals and violence is part of our nature. We can not escape violence whether it is through stories, television, movies, or video games. We need it on a primal level. However unlike the rest of the animal kingdom we are able to obtain it in ways that do not require hurting anyone else. The forms I mentioned. I don’t believe there is anything wrong with healthy forms of violence.

But mass shootings, rape, child abuse, murder, etc. are not healthy forms of violence. Even if some of those examples can be found in nature it doesn’t make them right. No one should be hurting anyone whether it is for a God, for one’s self, or whatever reason.

I’m not here to pass judgment on anyone or for anyone. We judge ourselves enough as it is. I am only justifying why I posted this story.  If for any reason you are upset. I apologies, but I will not be taking the story down or editing it out of my book. My intentions as a writer are never to upset anyone, but to tell a story. Whomever that story may be about.