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Collision: Larynx crushed//            //Enter: Pantomimic reply

Kill. Queen. Green. Flag. Capture. King. Within.

A bull and the belle…a message for…

Unmask the luchadores. Show them for all that they are

Bric-a-brac. Banderillas first. In seconds, heart-ATTACK.

What may seem like forcing, isn’t even the crux of it.

This biscuits gone stale.  Pour another round for eachthemall

Horrible what they’ve done with your grammar.

Porous sieve you’ve become.  Drifting round with that afadavit sleeping sideways off your tongue.

Don’t sleep. Don’t sit up straight. Pretend. Dream. Just pretend it’s all a dream.  Stars, they shine. Big. Bright. Here. On this, impossibly broken narrow string that once was just a normal night.

LOUD: Tralalalalalalalalalalalalalla. Sings them all.

SOFT:  whisperslayuponthetonsilstill…[trails off] \\ for silencia’s sake.

INTERMEDIUM: For thou shalt not covet thy maker’s SUN.

THE poltergeist’s a sparrow.  The cardinal’s a fence.

CRETAN: “I’m truly saddened by your loss…{Extremely Edgy}

)you should see the other guy( as I lay here in my bed…only I know. And I can’t help but cry. “How do I tell Daedalus that his toreador is dead?”



Alden Albern

My name is William Skye. In the past so many days, a talking cat has been discussing the rehashing of plots, themes and stylistics in the world of film. Knowingly or not, this intuitive feline has broached a very guarded subject, and one many hold dear to their heart.

Out of this internal gnawing that has suddenly become my every impetus, I am now going to reveal a secret you may or may not choose to believe. However, I do assure you, that as far fetched and outlandish all the accounts and instances you are about to hear may sound, these are the facts, and no embellishments have been included in any of what you soon shall become privy to.

This information comes from a very secretive and historic place. Any and all associated and/or implied will most assertively deny any knowledge or participation. What I am about to tell you is both closely guarded, and, until this very moment, had never been leaked to the public before now.

My true name is Alden Albern. In fact, it is all our names. We bear one appellation, as to not insert individuality into our sole purpose for being. My name means Wise Guardian of Noble Valor. It is not but all of our names, but in fact, the definition of who we are.

I come from a long line of Guardians and our histories date, as far back, as to when time itself first began. There are thousands of us living in secrecy in this modern age. There have been millions of us to come before and there will, one does hope, be millions more to one day come again.

Our mission is simple. It is based upon the notion that God has gifted mankind with many things, none more important than his ability to think freely and to act accordingly. Every thought is precious. Every action is unique. This is the basic groundwork to all of our study. We protect thoughts, ideas, and most notably, the completed product that such thoughts and actions then produce. Our number one credo is to ensure that our creations have their own defenders, their own guardian angels looking upon them favorably, protecting them all, from the ever-plaguing presence of plagiaristic villainy, that runs rampant from one end of this planet to the other. This evil, as I shall, from this point forward, refer to both plagiarism and all its many incarnations, is much more than a nuisance to the creative minded individual. It is a scourge upon God himself, eating away at the very fabric that differentiates mankind from the other creatures in all the other planets and universes coexistent with our own. To take away, to rob man of his ability to creatively construct and build unique endeavors, you belittle and degrade the magnificence of the most beautiful and unbelievably intricate creation of all, that of course being mankind itself.

This evil is consistently present. It has been wherever man has been, where man currently resides, and is laying in wait, for those uninhabitable tracts of space where man will one day find the ability to safely inhabit. It is an evil that simultaneously infests and infects everything it comes into direct contact with. It is present in every seed of doubt our very minds concoct. It hides and operates under many veils, preying upon man’s neuroses, therein cultivating these unavoidable seeds with a fertilizing component so dark and smothering, that if we choose not to abandon our uniquely creative tapestries, we will then find this evil resorting to tactics comparable to militaristic campaigns birthed and found in the deepest nooks of Hell itself.

It is our duty to analyze all things for such possible infestation. We find and locate such diabolical dealings and refer each of them to a higher order, for analysis and if at such times designation is deemed legitimately threatening, well, then, in those instances, further actions will be taken.

These actions can range from simple revisionist procedures, enabling minor exorcisms and/or extractions of falsities that had non-organically found its way into any of such creations, to a full-on insurgency, where casualties will most regrettably accrue.

Early on, God himself handled such responsibilities solely. He would locate, analyze and sever threats himself. But as time marched on, and our species bounded in numbers, God, while still easily capable of overseeing such activities, decided to imbue his creations, at least a fraction of his creations, to wield the first wave of responsibility in preventing such damaging predicaments to rear their ugly presences.

At first, all went swimmingly along. Mankind was advancing as a species in ways beyond what any of the forecasting polls had predicted. It was truly a magnificent time for all creativity. Through experimentation, testing and the utilization of our free will, man was able to increase his knowledge base exponentially. It was a magnificent time to be human, as it was to be an Alden. Here, the evil, while most certainly alive, as it had arrived some times after the first case of patricide, but it had not discovered an efficient way to undermine God and his human toys. This all, of course, changed; when it learned the blasphemy and discrediting acidic nature of plagiarism, us Alden’s were not prepared, nor efficiently able to filter out such widespread attacking patterns. It would take us many years to devise a system that would be effective.

This system, while not adverse to fault, and most certainly, as is inherent in all things, had flaws, from both the external, as well as the internal realms. But, as a whole, while not as dominating as it had once been, the Alden’s were effectively able to keep creativity safe from the evil that sought it out daily. This was the second wave of Alden prosperity. It would last for centuries.

Then, somewhere in the mid-centuries, the evil had changed its modus operandi. Here, it had learned, the biggest flaw, in the Alden’s system, was in fact, what made it so special in the first place. It had realized that the Alden’s were, themselves in fact human. While certainly endowed with gifts beyond the normal scope of mankind, at their roots, they too felt and desired everything, and in many cases, if not more, than those desires of his non-Alden brothers. The Alden’s were part of mankind itself, and this, in and of itself, illuminated the limitations and weaknesses that the evil would focus upon. Unfortunately, this plan devised by the evil, worked better than even God could have predicted.

A corruption like none seen before affected all corners of free will. Alden’s were thriving in their mortality like they never had the opportunity to do so previously. It was easy to spot those in contempt, yet, God stood by his defenders, stating that his Guardians had the right to think as they would, that by chastising and/or punishing those in betrayal, would, in essence create a permanent stain upon the notion of free thought itself. God allowed his guardians to think for themselves, fully believing in each of them, that one day, they would realize what their behaviors were responsible for, and return to their duty to God, without any question ever being implicated, where only God’s ever-understanding and ever-open arms would be and always had been, ready to console and comfort each of them, as he did for every one of his creations. Yet, in the meanwhile, plagiarism boomed and free will was dealt a myriad of blows, all of which were high in severity.

Such corruption lasted for hundreds of years. The older generations did not teach their offspring of the Alden way, and the numbers thusly suffered. Today, there are but thousands Alden’s walking this earth, where when operating successfully, millions were needed, and this, mind you, was at a time before mankind’s earthly population had exploded. So, where once their were millions, now have but thousands, many of which, had never even been taught the nature of their lineage, let alone, having had the opportunity to fully learn the great responsibility they have to themselves, their family, to mankind, free thought and expression, and to God himself.

And here we are, in the present time. In an era that sees plagiarism at its most severe, the task at hand seems insurmountable, for facsimile and theft seem to be the normal fare, the primary vehicles for what is out there, for art itself. Certainly there are some rare instances of truly inventive people, those that use their free will and creative thoughts and expression near or at maximum efficiency. But these cases are few and far between, and even in the cases of these folks, they are only able to hide behind the man-made gauze known as copyrights and trademarks for so long before mass replication of their thoughts and ideas are produced in ways that the individual creative never could have devised on their own.

The battlefield is bloody. The mentality of mankind is fragile, belligerent and obedient to a plagiaristic society, in many cases the only regime they’ve ever known. The guardians that do exist, cower in caverns and live in remote locations, fearful that they will be found by the evil and be impotent to defend against its vicious attacks. There are many Alden’s out there that are in a virtual state of hibernation. It is a gift that God granted some upper level Guardians, to safeguard their offspring from evil’s grasp. They are in-sleeping, and while their propensity to Aldenship is still there, it is dormant and must be reawakened in order to aid in this seemingly unwinnable war. Yet, because of this dormancy, the evil cannot locate them, even when utilizing its most advance of locating equations.

Yesterday I was but a simple living man, only going through the day to day obligations, as if sleepwalking my way through life. I always had the feeling I was destined to do more with my life, just never was able to figure out what more meant. I had always felt different, as if I was not part of societies master plan, yet until yesterday, I resigned myself to believing I was merely an outcast, an unworthy leech upon the rest of what is determined normalcy. I always knew there had to be a reason I was never included in such events, never was informed of opportunities, could not appreciate what a healthy and thriving society I was living amongst. Now, I know. I know I am part of something much bigger than any and all of this. I am an Alden, a descendent of men and women chosen directly from the hand of God himself. I am a Guardian, a defender of men. I posses the ability to help revive this world to how it was intended to be, to assist in the restoration of mankind, to it’s imagined state of noble valor. I am an Alden, my history is rich, and today, I found out that there are thousands if not more of those just like me, ignorant as to who they are, blind as to where we come from, and I now know what I must do. I must seek out each of my brethren, and wage a war against the evil that is enmeshed in almost everything. Together, we must defeat the evil and restore mankind to its rightful and designed fate.

My name is Alden Albern.

Rise of The Frost Giants

By Bludgeoned birth
in arctic scowl,
Jotnar youth
Senesce most foul

But to the Hrimthurs,
Niflheim’s frozen roads
and ice-bled miles,
are anything but
wretched vile

When icy mists met with Muspell’s fire
Ymir grew within this greatest void
and as he slept amongst the chasm
came rise two mighty beasts, kin to
those imaged in their father’s kind,
unleashing a reign of giants far and wide

Into scattered lands the clans
would spread, soon thereafter
the mighty Ymir would be found dead–

Of it’s flesh, forged terrain
it’s blood, the oceans, lakes, ponds and rain
Mountains and volcanos grew from it’s bones
until fully formed, was this realm Man knew
all too well

Odin thought the last bled free,
extinguishing ever last of we,
but from the one, more would grow,
in the valleys of the ice and snow

Today, many find comfort in leading
amicable ways, some taking Aesir men
and women as their grooms and brides,
peaceful to coexistent types of days,
acting as if serenity’s always shone
the same

and then there are the others, those who’s
only wish, is to see the great gods bleed, in
a fashion slow and clean
affliction pulses through each their
inch of vein; where forget they can’t
the sins that Bestia’s sons had made

I, am, without regards, most
adamantly, one of these

The Chimera inside

Posted on

me Chimera
the second I was born

by Daddy

I am a

A man

the one
is not
as evil

it’s not
as cool