Poetic sky

That’s what I find

Sifting through shit

Chaos of mind

Signs, protests, imbalanced status quo

They all need a cause, but they don’t even know

If you say that souls are different

you’re condemned as “pro hate”

Till we’re left with no uniqueness

With no defining traits

So full of lies

People of earth

I’m worst of all

Why even try?

Hate, empty, nothing worth the effort 

That’s what these nihilists would have us believe

Pandering to ignorant masses

Till we feel as bereaved as Jackie Onassis 

Celebrities

Whom we worship

Told we’re nothing

What we SHOULD be

Make us a sex tape, sell us some clothes

Gotta sing, gotta dance, auto tune your soul

Our kids feel like nothing without fame

So they hurt themselves and others like it’s all just game

This is my poetic sky

This is what I always find

In the world and in the screens

within myself, so break the seams

Link  —  Posted: February 24, 2017 in Blank verse poetry, Fate, morality, philosophy, poetry, Prose
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The terrified scientist wanted to speak, wanted to move, wanted to do SOMETHING, but he was utterly paralyzed. He didn’t know if it was due either to sheer terror or to Patient Y’s incredible mind powers, but it didn’t matter. He was alone with the boy, and he knew his life was about to end.

“Didn’t you hear me, Mora?” Asked the boy with a wicked smile. “I want to go outside.”

“How…how…” 

Oh, so you can talk. That’s good. That’s Excellent. Now you can tell those guards to back off.”

On cue, the door behind Dr. Mora began to resound with the frantic pounding of fists upon its glass. There were a dozen men outside, 3 of whom were armed with the electro-magnetic guns, but they couldn’t get in – the passcode wouldn’t open the door no matter how many times they typed it in. 

“I can kill them all, doctor,” Patient Y said dryly. “But I’d rather not. All I want is to go outside.”

“You…” choked Mora. “You…you…”

“Spit it out, Mora!”

Patient Y’s creator, his “father”, knew that Y could have easily made short work of the entire facility by now, but he was dumbfounded as to why the boy had not. Mora was being kept alive for some reason, and though it didn’t totally allay his fears, it at least gave him the courage to speak, though falteringly, to his creation.

“You want to leave the facility? Where will you go?”

Y laughed. “I didn’t say I wanted to leave, my Dear doctor. I only said I wanted to go outside for a while. You know, soak up the sun a bit. Then I’ll come back and be a good little guinea pig. But you…you’re gonna be with me every step of the way, and I need to know I can trust you.”

Mora began to open his mouth as tears cascaded down his face, but he once again couldn’t make any words leave his throat.

“Something you wanna say, doctor?”

“Can’t…cant you just read my thoughts? You’ll know you can trust me then. I’ll cooperate, I promise.”

Patient Y cocked his still bleeding head to the side, not even bothering to wipe the red liquid from his eyes. 

“Yes…yes, I do believe I can, doctor.”

The guards continued to pound on the door.

“Make them leave, Mora.”

Dr. Mora pulled the radio from his pocket and looked at the guards as he began to speak into it. 

“Everybody, out. Don’t follow us. It’s…it’s under control. We…”

“Wait,” said the Patient. “First, we have to take care of those guns. Those are the last three in the building, right? Last ones in the world?”

Mora nodded his head in defeat and began speaking again.

“Get rid of those guns.”

“No,” shot Y sharply. “I have something else in mind.”

“Don’t hurt them, Y, please…”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that again. You call me, Masuta, do you understand?”

The Japanese word for “master”. Mora shuddered and looked back at the guards, only to witness a horrific event. The three armed guards pressed the barrels of their weapons under their own chins and fired simultaneously. The guns, the only three weapons on the planet that could be used to stop the Patient, were now spent and useless. Mora and the other guards realized this…and they all screamed.

“Run!” The scientist shouted into his radio.

Most of them had already taken off before Mora even had the chance to shout. Now, the man was alone with his creation, most likely soon to be the only man left in the whole facility. 

“Damn,” laughed Patient Y, “those guns must be expensive. Only had five of ’em in this whole place, huh?”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt them, Y…”

“What did you say?” Growled the Patient in an inhuman, demonic sounding voice. “What did you call me?”

Mora was frozen in place once again. The intimidation, the power, the sheer evil of this boy – it was all too much to handle. 

“Say it. Say my new name.”

“M…M…Masuta.”

“That’s right. And I didn’t hurt them. They killed themselves. Either way, most of them are still alive. I don’t want to kill, doctor. I really don’t. But you gave me the power. And all life will do whatever it takes to protect itself. Now…let’s go outside.”

The door opened, making an entrance into the world for its possible destroyer. 

Several minutes later, Mora and his patient had made their way outside the facility. There had been no one in or around the building. Everyone knew that Y was now unstoppable. Mora began to think hopeful thoughts about the military, about atomic weapons, but he was trying as hard as possible to keep his mind closed to Patient Y. He failed.

“An A-bomb?” Laughed the Patient. “Really? You hope an entire city gets destroyed just to wipe me out? That’s murder, sir.”

“You’re a murderer!” Said Mora, surprised by his own courage. 

Patient Y put his face inches away from the doctor and smiled widely.

“You’re in no position to say anything about morality, Mora. Now, shut up and let me enjoy this weather.”

A light breeze passed over them as Y looked up at the blue sky. Birds singing. Bright sunlight. 

The perfect day for the end of the world.

“Okay,” sighed Patient Y. “That’s enough for today. Let’s go back inside.”

Mora was confused. 

“What was the point of all this?” He asked.

“I told you,” answered Y, “I just wanted to go outside for a while. And now, I’m going back inside. I’m a man of my word. Except…”

“What?”

“I’m done with the whole ‘guinea pig’ thing, on second thought.”

Everything went black for Dr. Mora.
………….………………………………………….:….
“Dr. Masuta? It’s been three weeks since the escape, and Patient Y still hasn’t shown any special brain activity.”

Masuta, a teenager with no scalp, looked up from his desk at the man who addressed him.

“Yes, I know,” said Masuta with (what sounded like) a heavy heart. “Maybe the outside world was just too much for him. The sights, sounds, smells…all that stimuli may have shut down his special brain functions after nearly two decades spent in a room.”

“It certainly looks that way,” said the other scientist. “It’s very unfortunate. Everything’s unfortunate. The escape, the deaths of the guards who caught him…Doctor Mora…”

“From what I’m told, he was a good man.”

“He was a visionary, Dr. Masuta. He started the whole project. But now, it looks as though it’s time for termination. It’s too bad…you’ve been excellent as our new head of research. I’m sorry you didn’t have more to work with…Patient Y was really something.”

“And you’re sure he’s not anymore?” Asked Masuta with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, has the helmet registered anything extraordinary? Even a flicker?”

The other scientist shook his head.

“Damn. Well, what about his behavior?”

“Still volatile. All he does is scream and tell us that he’s not who we think he is.”

Masuta bore an expression of disappointment and curiosity upon his face…well, at least upon the face that he wore…the one everyone else could see…the clean cut, well manicured face of an academic in his 50s…not his TRUE face. 

“Does he still say he’s really Dr. Mora?”

“Yes. And we don’t know why. All that energy built up in his neural tissue for so long seems to have finally broken him. Delusional, psychotic…he really did hold promise at one time. You should have seen it.”

Dr. Masuta smiled.

“So,” continued the other man, “what are your orders?”

“Termination, of course. Then, start work on another.”

“What are we gonna call this one,” chuckled the man. “Patient Z?”

“No, no, no,” laughed Masuta. “We’ll give this one an actual name…and we’re going to treat her like a person, not an experiment.”

The other scientist frowned in confusion.

“Her? You want it to be female?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no, of course not. You’re the boss. I mean, I know the gender doesn’t really make a difference for the end result of this project…but can I ask why? Just out of curiosity?”

Dr. Masuta stood up and gestured towards the door with his arm. 

“Get started,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

A few seconds later, Dr. Masuta, now alone in the control room, typed a few keys into his computer and pulled up an image on his screen. A hospital bed. A dreary cell. Walls covered with intricate sketches and formulas. And amidst all of this, a man running around in circles with a helmet on his head. A man who looked for all the world like Patient Y…to most people. Normal minds…feeble minds saw what they expected to see. 

But not Masuta. He saw Dr. Mora in that cell. 

“Help!” Screamed the captive scientist. “I’m not Patient Y! I’m not Patient Y! It’s Masuta! He’s the one! Please! I’m Dr. Mora! PLEEEEEAAAASSSSEEEE!!!!!!!”

Link  —  Posted: January 25, 2017 in Author, fiction, horror, monsters, original stories
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We can do it

Open sky, adamantine heart

Was tattered yesterday

Sinking in the grime

But we pulled ourselves up

Aggrandizing effort

The wraiths of yesterday,

Our ankles released

Can’t you see? Can’t you believe?

Don’t let them have control 

Our self serving souls

Egotistic impulse

I can do it

Awakening regeneration

Focus on the sky

Arise, make new creations 

Link  —  Posted: January 17, 2017 in Author, blog, Fate, hope, inspiration, life, philosophy, poetry
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What’s truly strange is the boy’s demeanor. He is quiet, tranquil, and courteous to the nurses. The scientists always figured it was an act, as they were sure the subject harbored intense resentment over his very existence, but the readings from the helmet showed otherwise. Though they couldn’t exactly read his thoughts, they could determine with high accuracy the patient’s emotions through his brain activity, and those emotions seemed unwaveringly positive. 

“I sure as hell wouldn’t be happy,” Dr. Grayson said one day in the control room. “Living like a rat in a cage from birth…”

“Are you feeling empathy for the subject, Leonard?” Asked Dr. Mora, chief engineer of the project. “Don’t forget: we must always remain completely detached. It’s the only way to achieve real scientific progress.”

The scientist paused for a moment before continuing.

“And don’t forget…that THING isn’t even human.”

The two scientists watched the camera feed of the room and measured the boy’s brain activity for the next several hours, hardly saying a word after Mora’s brief diatribe. It was now 8 p.m., and it was time for the weekly interview. 

Dr. Mora typed in the code to unlock the heavy titanium door and stepped within. Two armed guards accompanied him, but their guns didn’t contain bullets. Instead, they each contained a highly charged round of electro-magnetic energy set to a specific frequency. This energy was specially formulated to knock out the patient and render even his unconscious mind virtually stagnant. If used on anyone other than Patient Y, however, it would literally boil their brain matter. It was a wonder of modern technology, a true scientific breakthrough rivaling that of the boy himself…but it had a severe limitation. Only one charge could be kept in each gun, meaning that each officer had one shot and one shot only if something went wrong. It couldn’t be recharged either – the force of the energy completely annihilated the gun during each of the tests. Thankfully though, the members of this dark project had never had to use the weapons. Patient Y was always exceedingly cooperative.

The door slammed shut with a robotic thud behind the three men as Dr. Mora walked towards his creation.

“Hello, Patient Y.”

The boy looked up at the scientist, straining his neck as always due to the immense weight of the helmet.

“Hello, Dr. Mora,” he said in a timid, soothing voice. “How are you today?”

Mora chuckled.

“Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine, dear boy. The real issue at hand is how you are doing.”

“I’m wonderful,” the boy began mechanically, “just wonderful. The nurses are taking excellent care of me.”

“How are your studies progressing?”

“Excellently. I learned about mitotic cell rounding today. Quite fascinating.”

Dr. Mora, as well as all the other scientists on the project, were taken aback every single day by the modified teen. He never asked for friends, never asked for company of any kind, never asked about his parents, never questioned authority, and never asked to leave. Not many people in the facility believed in the human soul – but they couldn’t help but reference that intangible word when describing their creation. They had engineered a human being without a soul…nothing more than pure organics and advanced thought processes. 

“That’s great, Y,” said Mora after a brief moment of pondering. “So…no problems at all? Of any kind?”

The boy looked down and put his tongue in his cheek. As he did so, Dr. Mora was overcome by the strangest feeling, as if time was standing still and as if the very fabric of creation hinged on the patient’s next words. 

The boy looked up after what felt like an eternity. 

“I just wish I didn’t have to wear this helmet,” he said.

The guards clenched their weapons tightly as the doctor hesitated before replying:

“My dear boy…why? You’ve never complained about it before. You – ”

“Sir…” one of the guards said weakly.

“Not now,” shot Dr. Mora. “Now, Patient Y…”

“Sir…I can’t move.”

The color left Dr. Mora’s face as he turned to look at the guards. They stood there, still as marble statues, their faces contorted in fear. As Mora approached them though, it seemed as if the paralysis was temporary, as they both began to slowly lift up their weapons. Dr. Mora began to sigh in relief, but before he could even make a sound, the men pointed the guns at each other and fired. They fell to the ground screaming as all their brain processes began to shut down. Blood leaked from their eyes, and…

Oh, Dr. Mora?” said a sing song voice behind him. The doctor turned around, his heart threatening to explode from his chest in fear, and saw his abomination standing there…without his helmet. Blood oozed down the boy’s face, and Mora soon noticed why – the helmet lay on the ground, with the Patient’s scalp still attached to it. 

“W-w-w…”

“So,” said the boy, cutting off Mora’s frightful stutters, “I feel like going outside today.”

Link  —  Posted: January 9, 2017 in Author, fiction, horror, Nightmares, original stories, paranormal
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His brain didn’t work right – well, it’s actually more fit to say that it worked too right. 

Signals are sent back and forth between our minds and our bodies at a million times per second, precipitated by external stimuli. 

The brain of Patient Y, however, worked at a rate a thousand times stronger than any human in history. He had been this way since birth, and the first few years of his life were spent in a bed with a collection of wires and electrodes attached to his head.

The scientists who engineered him had no choice. Upon birth, his mother’s head literally exploded due to a powerful electro-magnetic pulse emanating from his cerebrum. No one really cared that the prostiture they had used to grow him was dead, but they did care about their own safety. 

The helmet they had constructed, the one built before the organic elements of this experiment had even begun, malfunctioned three days after the boy’s birth. 23 scientists were killed and over half of the facility was demolished – all from the power of the mind.

But they perfected the process, and it’s worked just fine for 17 years. Now, Patient Y is awake most of the time…but he must wear the helmet for the rest of his “life”. 

Link  —  Posted: January 4, 2017 in Author, blog, fiction, horror, original stories, Prose
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I think it will all be okay

Look how our atmosphere 

Is made. Molecules change

The direction of light and make

A symphony of color 

Each and Every night 

Oh, beauty! Oh, our universe!

Look how it dances free

Free from worry and pain

And yet, if our sun was tilted

By just one micrometer 

Chaos would end our plight

It doesn’t worry – why should we? 

Look how the blue wavelengths 

Scatter, replaced by red. 

Everything, held in balance

By some unknown, unseen force

Maker of dark and light 

Raymond Toro is a virtuoso. He knows what he’s doing. His first solo album, “Remember the Laughter” is proof of that. Writing, arranging, and playing nearly every single piece of music on this disc, the man proves his meddle as a solo artist with catchy vocal hooks, smart time changes, heartfelt lyrics, and passionate vocals. I don’t like it as much as I like the discs he worked on in the past with a band, “I brought You My Bullets, You Brought me Your Love”, “Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge”, “The Black Parade”, “Conventional Weapons”(yes, I see it as a cohesive album all by itself), and “Danger Days”, as the primary writer and arranger of the music, but I’m still in love with it. The lyrics alone make it worth a listen, but there’s so much more to it than that. 

“Remember the Laughter” is a concept album about a middle aged man finding a “memory box” and reflecting on moments of his life via the contents of said box. Simple as hell, way less bombastic and complicated than “The Black Parade”, but just as heartfelt and almost as effective. 

A few tracks stand out to me, and they will be the main ones I write about in this review. The first, “Isn’t that Something”, is written from a straight up genius perspective when it comes to music. Good structure, a good balance of traditional music and electronic(just in the beginning really), and some of the most honest lyrics I have ever heard in a song. You can tell that the track is about Toro’s feelings after the MCR breakup of 2013, and it really pulls at your heart, especially if you’re a fan. 

“Mama told me I should stand alone. Papa said your better on your own.”

While I do think My Chem was the greatest ensemble of creators in the history of music, I still think that Ray’s parents were right, at least in a way. He’s finally making the music he’s always wanted to make. Sure, there’s none of that magical teamwork that occurs when a band full of separate artists with separate musical tastes work together to create the sonic hybrid known as an album, but it really does show that this artist can stand on his own two feet creatively just fine. A lot more than fine, actually. 

That being said, this record was A huge surprise to me. My favorite guitarist had always played like he was a hybrid of Brian May and Randy Rhoades – but with this album, he goes the pop route. It’s not “pop” like all that Beyonce shit you always hear, but it’s still catchy as hell. A very strange but very nice combination of modern pop music with 80s rock bands, which makes the disc play like a time capsule, and the record’s narrative lyrically fits well into that aspect of the album. 

“Walking in Circles” is my new favorite love song. The lyrics in it are simple, as is a lot of the music, but the thing delivers. His vocal holds notes extremely well, and the entire song is laced with strings that really give the whole thing an epic scope. As far as the guitar is concerned, this one shows the listener that Ray isn’t interested in shredding and showing off like he did with My Chem. He just wants to make something emotive and powerful with his music, even if it’s simple. But, like I said, there are stringed instruments, so it’s kind of a mind fuck that he would make a song that sounds so simple and then add something really complex on top of it. 

So far, the album has been pretty poppy. But with “We Save”, the music becomes straight up rock and roll, namely, blues rock. I can’t help but make a comparison to “You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us in Prison”, chiefly because of the guitar style, but the song still doesn’t sound anything like that one or anything else in My Chem’s arsenal. It’s not heavy, but it’s not soft either-it’s just intelligent rock music that puts a smile on your face. 

Things get more complex a couple of tracks later with, “The Great Beyond”. Orchestral instruments  abound once again, but the real focus is the guitar and the vocals. Melodically, it’s one of the best songs of the album, especially with the soft bridge. I said before that Ray doesn’t really shred on this album – but scratch that, the solo on this song is excellent(I guess he does shred on this album, where the solos are concerned, but he does it sparingly). It’s soft but rockin’, smart, and gets stuck in your head just as much as the vocals do. There’s also a certain highly experimental sound employed throughout the verses that took me a while to get used to, but I love it now, even though I have no clue what it is. Something like scraping or clicking, I guess. 

“Take the World” reminds me of “The World is Ugly” and “the Kids From Yesterday”, but it’s still Signature Ray Toro, not My Chemical Romance. I think it would have worked with Gerard Way singing it, but it actually wouldn’t have been as good. This is the album’s initial single for a reason – it shows with glory Toro’s competence as a songwriter and especially as a vocalist. I’ll admit I like Way’s voice better, but I think Ray’s voice is perfect for this song. 

All the songs are great, but the next one that really stands out to me is “Requiem”. The vocals and lyrics of this record are all delightfully positive, and that infectious happiness shows the most through this track. It’s all about honoring the memories of those we have lost, living life to the fullest, and finding hope amidst the “madness of this world”

“You’ve got one life so make it right. If I had one more chance, I wouldn’t take it back.

Don’t die in vain, please light the flame.

And fill the sadness in your heart with memories of us.”

Just beautiful to the heart, man. Makes me wanna live my life to the fullest. And, at the end of the song, Toro goes full on African with the vocals and percussion. I’ve always loved tribal stuff. It’s just so emotional and real. 

And the last song, title track “Remember the Laughter” is just as powerful and infectious as the rest of them. Great way to end an album, especially with Toro’s “La la la” refrain during the bridge. 

I’ve been listening to this album for a couple weeks constantly, and it resonates with my emotions more than any of the solo efforts of My Chem’s other members. The main focus of the disc is family, and that’s something I desperately needed to focus on at this time. So, thanks Ray.

All in all, a cohesive, well constructed, and just damn good CD.

10 out of 10 

Stay strong, tiny heart

Posted: December 5, 2016 in Uncategorized

Fantastic poetry originally posted by Chithirakshi 

Chithirakshi

A trembling flutter

Uneven

The doc calls it tachycardic

But the rapid beating

changing its rhythm,

makes me wonder…

Will it be alright?

Or will it worsen?

Just that panicky thought makes  my heart a flutter

I don’t want to worry

about my unfulfilled dreams

about my kids

about my loved ones

I just want to stay here

now and then

see, feel and listen

to those loving voices.

Stay strong, my tiny heart

Keep beating, keep going strong.

We have been through heart breaking stuff

Life is about weathering this storm and more

So keep beating, my little one..

Together we will sail

to meet the tomorrow world.

View original post

Immaculate sunshine Fantastical sky

Are the answers in reach

Or is life unattainable
I mean our FULL life

Unclouded by doubt

Untouched by shame

Embrace the love of fate

For joy is our aim
It’s a beautiful life 

Impeccable day

Can we forget the hate 

Or is peace unachievable
I for one believe

Unwavering faith

Unashamed hope

Will be with us to save 

And help us to cope 

Full of decadence

Can we ever see past it?

Nihilistic world

…………………………………

Screens and media

Our hearts are so digitized

No more face to face 
…………………………………
Contemplate the evil earth

Death, end, no rebirth

Salvation: can it occur?

………………………………….

Children are taken captive

Women being raped

The elite turn a blind eye 

…………………………………..

Is there any cause for hope?

I do believe so.

We must all work together 
…………………………………..
Loving, laughing, cradling a heart

Running, crying, straight for a brand new start

Quote  —  Posted: December 2, 2016 in amateur poetry, Author, blog, dark vs. light, Haiku, inspiration, poetry, Prose
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