We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, yellow submarine...   -The Beatles





A part of me has died. I am swamped by the waves of mediocrity. I struggle to revive myself, but the inertia borne of long-standing conformity prohibits me. There shall be retribution. One day...


If to the fleeting hour I say
'Remain, so fair thou art, remain!'
Then bind me with your fatal chain,
For I will perish in that day.
'Tis I for whom the bell shall toll,
Then you are free, your service done,
For me the clock shall fail, to ruin run,
And timeless night descend upon my soul.
    - Goethe, Faust, the bargain with Mephistopheles


Sift through my mind...

Arrow of Scarlet Ruin
    accompany the wilderness tracker Anuis Drake Scarletarrow, Night Caste Exalted, as he travels through the world of Creation and rediscovers his past

Quiet Times with God
    a page for daily bible reflection

Stages of Rebirth...

Author's note: all the artwork on this page is mine, unless otherwise stated. I don't believe in copyrights so go right ahead and use em. Just tell me about it though, and try to be sparing on linking, snapfish might flag me for exceeding bandwidth.
   

<< July 2004 >>
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
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To blogly go where no one has gone before...

a josephine hopeful wanderer
aileen ... my light...
anatalia ana the pooh
andrea the dog pound
anj purveyor
ayen boulevard avenue
ben stormwrite
carmen chainreaction
cha absolutely not
cyril a beautiful mind
dara strangefire
gen every hour...
gyll xhybrid17
halcyon contradiction
ivy life as i live it
joy backspaced
kalag kalag hell is made of...
lady lazarus poetic art
maybelle i'm bored
myla twisted solitude
moks silent screams...
neng ... alleged narcissist
owen the stew chronicles
ramonster 11am...
romel soulsearching
sam chronicles of sam...
sancho sancho benavides
sancho the mad tea party
shiro journeys
sj lugaw madness club
t. tulala-tulele
toi luna
tony outside looking in...
zane fell out of love...



Call me Ishmael... or rather, call me when there's something I can contribute. I like a good book anytime; over a cup of coffee, while I'm in the shower, while I'm chasing the cat to get its tail between the jaws of a laundry clip. I believe in socialism, I believe in capitalism. I believe in exorcism, I don't believe in demons. I am a walking contradiction of sorts, always looking over my shoulder just to make sure there's no dentist around. You would call me friend, I will call you by your name, and only when I need you. I believe in the rationality of man, but only when it's convenient. There are times when i paint, just before I slice the onions to sauté. I spend my time hanging upside down on the sofa, with a good book in hand. I never stop thinking, except while I'm sleeping, and even then, I still do. I hate sleep. It's Time's ultimate thief. But don't remind me of that when I'm sleepy. I was an atheist, now I'm a Christian. I'm an Objective Realist, but I believe in God. I've met Him and took Him to eat at a gourmet burger shop down the corner. It's gone now. I fed Him fries and a large Coke. He fed me with Life. I don't believe in religion. It's slave morality, the moral code of the looters. I believe in relationship; and reality. I will ask you to walk with me, so that you'd notice my pink Chuck Taylor's, and then I'd leave you if you cannot keep up. I'll give you something to help you on your way though, but only if you ask. You'll call. I won't look back. I never look back; except when there's the threat of a dentist. Call me Ishmael... call me tomorrow.


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Wednesday, July 07, 2004
at dencio's this morning, written in tissue paper over three bottles of beer and a half-pack of smokes...

frustrated, countless wasps stinging despair into my being,
   relentless, unyielding, and fierce they gnaw at my very core,
i am broken, swallowed whole by a deep nothing,
   the nothing becomes me, i am itself,
to rise again by the sheer force of will,
   but what will is there when your whole essence,
   has been sapped, weakened, destroyed.

what am i now but a futile husk of a man,
   a shell of what once was, or maybe what never was?
   what have all my tribulations come to,
   but empty fistfuls of sand mottled with glass,
   broken shards of self scattered like confetti,
   blasted throught the winnowing pages of non-existence.

i have called out from the waste of despair,
   and sought claim to what was supposed to be mine, but,
   what i hold in in my hands, are nothing but figments
   of a person i once knew, i thought i knew.

it was all for naught, like these empty scribbles,
   a waste of all dreams.

Out of the ashes of bennet at 11:01 pm

mishel
August 26, 2005   01:06 AM PDT
 
good page http://www.g888.com
bennet
July 10, 2004   10:12 PM PDT
 
oh... yeah, completely forgot about love for the moment.

heh, i won't just be hopeful, i'll be determined.

now if only i could put that into action. :-)
gen
July 8, 2004   09:03 AM PDT
 
haha. hey...wasn't it you who said

"to touch someone else, heart and soul, that is monument enough..."

be hopeful :-)

Bennet
July 8, 2004   04:22 AM PDT
 
i think you have to feel veeery frustrated... then find yourself with a pen and a piece of paper, that is if you don't stab yourself with the pen first...
sancho.
July 8, 2004   01:18 AM PDT
 
... a waste of all dreams...

pare, how do you do this? 'shtig.
 

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