the World Ash

strength slid like sand through iron fingers
hope eroded like, copper gone rusty on a third floor pipe
vision blurry, eyes drown in rivers of tears
where's my fury
slow down brothers. why y'all in such a hurry
at the end of the day

all i got to show for sacrifice is losing my place
and at the end of the road all i got to show for patience
is this blade of grass
i thought would break through the ground as a world ash

curse the passing of time
thoughts lost in graviton fluctuations, unholy manipulations,
in hard situations, yet midnight shines
and moon reflects the light of sun divine
the holy mirror.  pray to Jah louder and maybe then He'll hear you
fate is bullshit, and faith and reason make you feel better 
...but don't change the seasons
Carpe Diem
take the fruits from the tree of life and squeeze them
suck the juice 'til you no longer need it

at the end of the day
all i got to show for sacrifice
is losing my place
all i got to show for patience
is this blade of grass
i thought would touch the sky
like a world ash
thought i no longer see the light in dreams
God still lookin' down on me
...smiling


8/11/2006 12:45 PM CDT

Fcuk___Gravity!

I'm at this place again where there’s nowhere left to climb
At the height of the ladder with no mountain top in sight
Shoulders weak from the strain, carrying the weight
Of the hopes that I brought
to this impossible place
The weight of younger years, considered a golden child
Who always heard “you must do…”
yet was never showed how

Lord forgive my blindness, I lost my way
Not seeing the path laid or walking rightly
For not knowing the right way, lost in the haze
Of the smoldering remains of what I'm s'possed to be
This life in dark territory blew me away
The anger, the sorrow; the weapons of shame
In spite the rage hear the hopeful song
Singing sweet melodies about your
Promise to make me like Joseph was
Slave becomes Prince where the desert wind blows
One talent you gave me; imagination
Invested into seven gifts, let me name some
the draw, the write, the song, the play
the fight like Bruce lee when Chuck came his way
see spirits in the shadows, insanity
plus
patience is a gift, though worn and thin,
been waiting on a breakthrough since half past ten
thirty damned years to let the sun shine in
and a river of bloody tears on dark brown skin
a bitter black cherry soul, soaked in gin
Soft light in my eyes, 'spite the Strychnine grin.

I'm at this place again where there’s nowhere left to climb
I’m at the top of the ladder with no mountain top in sight
Iron fingers crush granite though weak from the strain
Of carrying the work at this impossible pace
This work, work hard -worked perpetually
Obsolete machine, rust colored and gray
The weight of younger years when considered the golden child
Still somewhat golden, but tarnished now
Can't reflect the sun when I'm all dulled down
Who always heard “...be great!"
I'm finding out how!
To achieve what I need,
To draw and sing
To exceed
The bonds that imprison me are harsh in deed
And Hope, she abandoned me
She never went away
Well, she did
She's into better things...

so...
I'm wide awake now, but too tired to...
  

5/26/2006 @ 12:34 PM

Character Quiz; first and last! GRRRrrrr!!

Mood: Incomprehensible Rage

Listening to: Pytor Ilyich Tchaikovsky  ...with a break beat under it.
Reading: the Truth
Watching: No freakin time to watch anything but me taking over the world!

Basics

What's your characters name?
Isis Cruz (Formerly Maite Ximinez)
How old is he/she?

Nineteen. Twenty on November 2nd. ...2117.

Is your O.C. a boy or girl?
Woman.

What's his/her race?

Mostly human.

Appearance 

Isis is a petite, hard bodied martial artist, modestly hidden in baggy cargo pants and thread bare tees. She carries a Parang -"Killjoy"- and wears Mary Janes or brogans instead of pumps.

Is your character considered normal in his/her own world?
A 4'11'' copper-skinned fitness goddess with hair like wild fire, the number "7" laser stenciled on the left side of her face and an 18 inch curved knife on her hip instead of a Coach bag is normal, right?
What would be his/her most recognizable feature(s)?

Canted, almond shaped, orange eyes (...and fire hair).

Would you consider your OC as attractive?
Brutal elegance. Yes I would.

Personality

Temper?
The Epitome!!  ...classic sociopath
Does your character ever get depressed?   

Too busy killing folks to be depressed.

Leader or Follower?
Lone Wolf.

What is the main aspect of his/her personality? 
Hate, sprinkled with Tony Chachere's
History

Her mother's murder orphaned her. She was adopted from a state facility by the evil pedophile Philip Desmond Naquin and his soulless, down trodden wife Nadeen.
Ice was the 7th of 22 children, wards of the state who were herded into the small house and numbered like cattle.
At age twelve she killed Naquin and escaped the deranged home, only to fall prey to the streets.
Soron Khan found her, nursed her back to health, and taught her the martial art of her father "Movimiento de Ocho Rios" (the Eight Rivers Movements), and the Qi Gong.

Did your OC have a family of any sort?

Soron Khan found her, nursed her back to health...  Khan is her Parrain (god father).

Is your character out on his/her own?

She lives in a shotgun house on Columbus Street, with her Parrain.

Has he/she encountered any traumatizing events?
Her life is cookies and cake and sweet potato pie...

What was probably the best time in his/her life so far?

Short of her training with Khan that moment hasn't happened yet.

Mood: bored with this insufferable mind pump of a quiz

Listening to: Adolf Hitler with Biggie Smalls voice coming out 
"...where Brooklyn at! where Brooklyn at!"   So strange.
Reading: the Bible, 'cuz I still need KRST

Watching: woman's giant behind as she walks across my living room (my imagination is so convincingly real). 

Romance

Single?
Married to Killjoy.

Has your OC developed any romantic relationships?
You want to date her?
Virgin?

No thanks, trying to quit.

Does your character like flirting?
With Death; yes. With you; No.
Her thing begins with anger, followed by a stabbing. 

Symbolism

What animal would you associate your OC with?
Wolf.

Musical Instrument?
She'd so be a drummer

Element?
Fire.

Planet?
Mars.

Showing the love?
In your dreams.

Do you draw your character?
Me.  ...and me alone!

Do you write about him/her?
Yes.

Do you use him/her in any rpgs?
No.  Got no time for games!

What other ways have you appreciated your OC? 
The much anticipated (...but poorly executed) re-do of the amateurishly thrown together first issue.

RANDOMIZE!

Is your character wanted for anything? 
Her looks.  
Wait... What?!  Oh, you mean...

Technically; no.  But she does fit the description of...

What are three weaknesses in him/her? 
1). Isis cannot see past her anger, and 2). misses the artistry in the fighting style that her father created.
Then there is 3). the fear that she will not be strong enough to avenge her parents deaths, and if she does avenge them, what next?

Strengths?
She is determined to become the Earths greatest fighter. Khan's teachings have revealed a new dimension of hidden abilities.

Does your OC drink or smoke (ect.)? 
Besides being a celebrated murderer, "Isis gots no vices".

What's one quirk about him/her?
Her wit is treacherous. She likes to cut you with words before Killjoy chimes in. Verbal assaults from a samurai sharp tongue accompany many exchanges. 

Does your character have any phobias?
She is 1). afraid of being weak, 2). afraid of failing, and afraid of... Read the mini-series (when I do it) and find out, you nosy mother f...
What could you do to get him/her into a blind rage?
Steal her jambalaya.  Bump into her in the mall.   Wait, no. Don't make her angry, you'll live longer. 

Does your OC like chickens?
Southern fried (if there were any left), yes. 
…if you mean people with no moral fortitude, no. Neither do I.

The Final Question:

What would you consider your relationship with your character to be like? 
I'd balance her. I could teach her to manage her rage -direct it into something useful, like a mugging. Show her that there is more to life than...  
Hell with that, I'd be too scared to talk to Isis Cruz

Mood: Anger. Still not drawing.
Listening to: My heart thunder in my chest like the funky drummer.

Reading: the Bible, 'cuz yes, I still need...

Watching: the world become the stinkiest poop right before my eyes

4/16/06 12:02 AM
"Death Angel Isis Cruz" @2001 by John-Reuben A. Milton dba 17Dreams / all rights reserved

the Umbra

Dark soldiers tried to steal my heart last night
Two at the window to blot out the light
Hissed the words evilly to instill fright
I lay back and listen without puttin up a fight
They say “you gonna die of cancer”
I say that’s good

cancer eats doubt and fear until it’s gone
They say “you're gonna' lose that strong right arm”
Then I’ll beat you down lefty till you breathe no more
They laugh “you move like a cripple:
Yeah, that’s true, I’ll limp from this fight
Your sick plan in ruins when I douse your light
“you aint gon’ be nothing” they finally said
Then...
Why you poozers tryin' to mess with my head

Lil' Lame duck attack while I'm still in my bed

I awaken with half a smile
it's two thirty four
Cloaked by the darkness besides the glow
The anger in my gut like embers burn
Thinkin', it must be my turn
The dark soldiers disappeared like mist in rain
I fell back to sleep again
go figure

mighty mai

sketchbook stuff

Xian`Ra. Nuff said.

a divine reflection@ 12:25am

Crushed by the wheels of industry
A cog that never fit
My impact on the world I know
I might well not exist
But over time and trial by fire
And failures I have seen
I never did, nor ever will
Give up my faith in Thee.

(Thanks for the dreams)

one and seven dreams; part one (the Rube)

i’m bringin' a knife
to the biggest gun fight
of my life
and it’s all right
cuz if i
die tonight
at least i
tried to live this life right
2 use some of my gifts
and
treat my people right
in-spite the dirty way you looked at me,
u looked at me like
i was the underbelly of earthworms
was ist dat scheisse?!
i’m unworthy or sum such
guten tag, frauline, but you aint right
a beast like me might do u right
but
u want respect from thug niggaz
u want ballerz who share
and hard core street killers with
soul so fair
u want pretty boys 2 luv u, like these pretty niggas care
baby daddy’s to raise strong suns from behind prison cells
and somethin’ good to finally come from yo life in hell
can’t press rewind now, u did it to yo-self

...and now

u look-in’

at me?

cuz nerds pay bills
and

i might be a geek but I'm a strong black man

so, no thank u ma’am

cuz,
‘round the cornda'and up the block
we embraced struggles, cuz struggles was all we got
we kissed sacrifice on the lips, and grabbed it by the tits
cuz it’s about 2 get back twice what it made a gift
bend struggle over sofa’s and break the back of that b!+@#
4 them times when invisible foes lobbed thought grenades
then laughed as i battled demons in the hell hot blaze
and almost lost my pace,
but like that old time religeon,
i kept my faith
when zombie eyes peered, lifeless from shattered faces
dreams and hopes, forgotten; dried out and rotten
lost hope, lost days,
lost the will to stay
all work and small pay
all hope but no play
day, stacked
precariously
upon day, upon day, upon day
till they all the same
like channel zero n-side my head

...4 no smooth hips to crush close when nights was ice cold misery
no loving eyes
to search the sinister soul and find the good in me
no soft words when rage grew unstable, then exploded out
or the caress of a small soft voice proclaim without doubt
follow your dreams
all seven teen
it’s gon’ be okay, baby ...I got 'chu.
hell storm or whatever
cuz God put us two

two-gether.

so…
here i am with a knife
at the biggest gun fight
of my life

and if i die on broken dreams tonight
least i used some of my gifts
and tried to treat people nice
spite the
dirty way she done me that thursday night
turned her back, walked away and -took my light
yet my soul shines twice as bright.

(this one is dedicated to the Phoenix and the Dragon ...and me)

the Midnight

here i am
like midnight
but twice as bright
implacable like
darkness DONE come to life
like
I'm two a.m. in brogans and ready to fight
or pretzel olive stained

angels
all night

...or 'till I can't breathe right

eyes bright and shining and my smile just might
be mistaken for the HOLY light 

of
galaxies being born 

in the depths of this gifted soul
on the verge of on the precipice, poised on the brink
...aint I supposed to think!?
mind blown
rash decisions, bad collisions
two parts divinity times cataclysm
midnight puttin’ boots to woe
smashing foes
goin’ outta my way to find
words, hues and flows
and doing shows
like shattered hopes living low in the valley of broken dreams
them broken things
thronging your head like a lidocane dream
another sign to you of the end of all things
you can choke on your corporation schemes
or make worlds with words
easier than shootin’ gifts and flows

hands bleed from the work i do.
eyes bleed from the view
mind reels from the utter asininities
of 

…technophile society
hell with a company dream when your vision is real
realer than cold fingers in a freon breeze
-or hurricane mangled trees
the unjust seem blessed in absurd degrees
but the night like me …be
on the verge of brighter things
then comes the dawn.