In media I am the Brooklyn beast for real I am a man who suffered defeat
You think crimes are done exclusively by evil people? is that you conclusion? I'll come to your house do another crime show you my contribution
You think one crime was ever made not deemed the best possible solution? is that your conclusion? I'll come your house do another crime let show my contribution
this one fellow saw murder as his best possible solution from birth abused mind twisted he lived in an illusion
we men are vulnerable highly so reasponding more directly to our emotonal flow
women do like us burn yearn and mate but lack I say what are human traits 'cause they stumble if at all they fall to give rise walk away unscathed
'tis their nature or a self accomplished feat to bend like rubber cut open with steel they hurt and they feel
but it is not the hurt they are fighting so they recharge with speed of lightning
arms yielding love so dear that be you touched you be drowned in tears relieved of all fears
If we realized we saw them as our main event we would not have a choice as in whether to repent to the love of our women to the love of sanctimonious saints
Address Sweden, Hornsgatan 87, 117 26 Stockholm
Please respond if you are interested, I have a decent collection of other stuff in the same quality range.
Chaos by nathan illig
jupiter will suffocate.. under the weight of the raven and the dove.. of the same body.. bullets will break out of their skulls.. knives will break out of their throats.. I will come from inside.. I will come from silence.. snakes from my spine.. made of ghosts and novas.. and fire from my belly.. I will be the hammer.. I will break jennifer with nails.. on her fathers bed..
saturn falls.. incarnations layered through time.. I will tear all his faces from the spheres.. I will pull them under.. I will break their skulls with my fists.. I will clench their throats till they disintegrate.. I will lay hands and their hearts will die.. I have been the phoenix.. I have been the dove.. I have been the dragon.. the angle has been skinned.. I am the liar.. I am the treachery.. bomb on the hand of a clock.. moth aiming for a land mine..
the archer torn apart.. becomes the snake.. breathes water.. becomes the dragon.. purified by water.. drowned by water.. just a few more moments of innocense.. and jessica would have drown by my hands.. my father laid crystals on the base of my spine when I was a child.. building walls.. with the black guardians hiding their faces.. I will break my father apart.. I will find the guardians.. I will bring them to the stream.. I will make them kneel by the river.. I will force their heads under like the anchor bitches in the sink.. all this time hiding in my leg.. I can still feel their ghosts swimming there in me.. hospitals hide their black rooms and saws.. I will baptize them by the neck.. I will force their life from them into the waters.. and remember jennifer..
“Promote tolerance and compassion: My Name is Not Monkey Girl”
NEW YORK, NY -- Nov. 7, 2007 Author Miriam Jacobs is on a mission. The ten-time author recently announced that she has set out to raise funds for facial reconstructive surgeries for her 8 year-old granddaughter, Candace. Along the way, she is promoting tolerance, education, and compassion for those who have Giant Congenital Nevus; a rare skin disorder that Candace was born with.
"My Name is Not Monkey Girl" (Candalyse Publishing, 2007) serves as a tremendous resource for parents, teachers, grandparents, schools and libraries alike. It was written with the aim of teaching children the importance of unconditional kindness, patience, love, tolerance and compassion. And inspired after a child called Candace a monkey girl. At the time, Candace was approaching her to play.
"I decided then and there that parents need to educate their children on how to be tolerant of others who look different from them," explained Jacobs. "I knew that I would someday write a book called, My Name is Not Monkey Girl,' and I thank God for giving me the strength and wherewithal to do it."
Jacobs is dedicating the proceeds from the sales of all the books she has published to her Granddaughter's surgery fund.
"I want to thank all the people who have bought the books," commented little Candace. It really is wonderful book. I also want to thank my Nana for doing this for me. The money for the book will help me, my Nana and Papa go to Chicago for the surgeries," she concluded.
The author's books are published by her own publishing company. Candalyse Publishing was contrived from a combination of her two granddaughters' names, Candace and Alyse.
Miriam Jacobs organized The Candace Battiste Surgery Fund. Launched in March, 2007, The Candace Battiste Surgery Fund is a global partnership. Leading the efforts are individuals and organizations who have donated cash and gifts in kinds from all across the globe.
To date, Candace has had nine facial surgeries to remove the Nevus. During the next several years, she is scheduled for additional facial reconstruction surgeries to restore her face, nose, eye and lip to proper proportion. Each surgery requires several thousands of dollars which are not covered by the family's insurance.
My name is NOT Monkey Girl by Miriam Jacobs
Publisher: http://www.Candalyse Publishing.com Page Count: 52 Pages Illustrator: Cheryl Derocher Language: English ISBN-978-0-9798217-3-8 Product Dimensions: 8.5 x 8.5 inches
Candalyse Publishing PO Box 783 Bethel NY 12778 USA candalysepublishing@gmail.com
For press inquires, interviews, and photo exhibits, please contact Miriam Jacob's publicist:
Fran Briggs Office 928.328.1607 email: franbriggs@aol.com
Would you like to know more?
The Lasting Darkness by Briley Kenney
Years ago, the world was crushed in a strange plague of darkness which was pursued by hidden creatures known as "The Unseen." These creatures preyed on mankind and sought them out until they were near extinct. The remaining survivors managed to escape to an underwater facility known as Eden. Eden was set to be a modern architectural landmark and was built connected through above ground buildings to the world beyond.
For years the survivors lingered inside Eden, only emerging when the darkness lifted, to scavenge for supplies. But when Eden is severely damaged in a research accident, the survivors are faced with an awful truth. They must choose to stay and drown in their own man made hell, or return to the surface and face "The Unseen".
Biography and Publishing History: My name is Briley Kenney, I am 21 years old and I love to write. I have been writing my entire life from poetry, to short stories to novels. My favorite form of creative writing lies in the formation of novels. I have many in the process of being written, as well as many already finished. My mind is often emblazoned with ideas and I pour them out on paper, or onto a computer screen, in this day and age.
My foremost dream and ambition is to one day be a successful, published writer. I hope this book will provide me with a gateway into the literary career, and offer me a good jump start. I have never been published before, and have currently been unable to find a local party to edit my work. I have done thorough and extensive checks consistently, however I'm sure it is far from perfect.
Excerpts from "The Lasting Darkness":
Matthew's vision was blurred, in the explosion he had been thrown against the brick wall behind him. He blinked constantly to try and regain his bearings. As he stood, he realized his wife's scent no longer lingered nearby. He whirled around in near panic, searching frantically at the faces of those who had also begun to move around him.
The entire city had entered a state of chaos; the final news broadcast was what had sent everyone into complete disarray. For weeks they had watched the rest of the world undergo a series of acute attacks from an odd plague of darkness. It fell across western Asia and then proceeded to Europe. No one had a clue where it came from or what caused it.
The week it had fallen across Northern Canada the rest of North America watched in fear. Some thought it was a planned hoax, or was meant to be a media stunt of some kind. However contact with anyone residing beneath the strange blackout ceased. It seemed as if the parts of the world covered in darkness had just, vanished.
That last news broadcast featured a well known Doctor and pronounced scientist discussing their own theories about the lasting nightfall. They came up with all sorts of ridiculous conjectures and reasoning but nothing seemed to fit. Minutes later they showed a small piece on a newly established religious fanatic group that claimed it was a sign of Armageddon. Not soon after, that little broadcast spread across the United States like an infection; chaos and disorder exploded along with it.
Matthew and his wife were leaving as soon as possible to meet his brother a few hundred miles away. His brother owned a small boat, and they were going to sail far out into the ocean to escape the ordeal. It seemed for some reason that the darkness wasn't so widely spread out over the water. Matthew didn't really feel like it was Armageddon, nor did he believe anything would come of this "plague" as the media called it. But there was no mistaking the mood of those around you, nervous and scared. Everyone seemed to be on edge, especially with the inevitable forthcoming of the darkness.
Matthew knew right away that the farther they were from society the safer they would be.
He felt something warm crawling down his forehead, the tips of his fingers were quickly stained dark red as he realized it was his own blood. In the fall he had split open the side of his forehead.
Dust and smoke penetrated into the air originating from the wall that had just been destroyed. Matthew attempted to see through the thick wall of floating smoke in front of him. Silently, inside his head, he wondered where the explosion had come from, but it didn't matter. His main concern was finding his wife.
Nearby a man stood wobbling, his hand clutched tightly to his face, blood seeped out the cracks in his fingers and spilled noisily onto the ground.
Matthew shook the dizziness off beginning to clasp his vision. Three or four bodies lay helpless on the pavement, victims. Matthew stumbled from the side alley into the street. The coffee shop that his wife loved to visit on her lunch hour was desecrated. A small gold colored sedan sat with the motor still running, half inside the building and half on the sidewalk. The front glass window had been shattered and broken shards of glass lay strewn everywhere. Debris, from the explosion rested on the cool pavement.
Matthew fell to his knees; the blow to his head was beginning to affect him. In the distance sirens echoed into the evening air. Footsteps of the men and women hurrying about around him reverberated in his ears. Then, almost suddenly there was a loud series of clicks as the power shutoff in blocks. Matthew stared in awe as screams of horror erupted nearby. The lights down the street began flickering, and then the power cutoff took what was left for visible light. The darkness settled in rather forcefully and brought with it an eerie chill that sucked clean any surrounding warmth. Goosebumps layered Matthew's arms as he fought against his weakening body, to remain on his feet.
As his vision began to blur, and a headache set in, Matthew fell to his back and stared at the sky above. He couldn't help but wonder just what exactly had happened to the stars.
Slowly Razor's eyes came back into focus. He shook his head trying to release the memories from his mind. They had a way of grasping him in his sleep and not letting go. Thanks to the flashbacks, it had been a long time since he had felt true, refreshing sleep.
He stared into the faces of the other survivors huddled around in a small clump. A few lay motionless, under the strains of sleep. Others, just sat, awake and scared watching the plain cement ceiling and the expressions of those around them for comfort. It was rather obvious to all that a terrible fate awaited them in the near future. This wasn't one of those ridiculous and typical apocalyptic movies where everyone had a false sense of security. It seemed in every one of those films Razor had ever seen; the survivors always had a sliver of hope or knew somehow they were going to stay alive in the conclusion. Here, in this atmosphere all that was not the case. No one embraced the fact that they would have to escape to the surface eventually, but the fact lingered about the back of their minds.
Razor felt the urge to vomit, and forced himself to his feet. He caught Siler's glance as he stood, who also rose to his feet. Razor turned away and began walking down the corridor towards the living quarters. He needed to be alone for a little bit, and perhaps also needed some water to fend off the nostalgia; his room seemed like the perfect fit.
A hand gripped his shoulder and tightened.
"Perhaps being alone this time would not be a good idea Razor." Siler's hand withdrew as Razor turned to face him. Razor closed his eyes slightly in a glare.
"You may not like it Razor, but you are not the only one who has nightmares and you definitely are not the only one who is scared. Look at them..." Siler motioned towards the gathering of other survivors.
"Even now a few shiver in their sleep, not just from the cold temperature brought with the leaking water..." The harder Razor stared the more he realized Siler was right. A few survivors who sat huddled, or some even lying on their backs shivered and muttered from the flashes of a nightmare across their closed eyelids.
"I feel sick; I was going for some water." Siler shook his head in response.
"We have water here Razor..." The two men stood in silence watching each other curiously, until finally Razor decided Siler was indeed correct.
"Alright, so I'll stay." Siler smiled, and handed Razor a small bottled water that had been hidden in his back pocket.
The water didn't seem to fend off the rising sickness entirely, as Razor had hoped, but at least it helped. More of the crowd was stirring now as the grogginess that came with such stress began to wear off.
Siler walked off a few feet away and sat down next to a little boy who was busy playing with a small plastic toy. Razor also noticed that Skinner and Hawk sat huddled together right next to the escape shaft whispering to each other. Axel was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, watching the other survivors solemnly.
It was true that Razor would much rather be off by himself, however that did not mean he disliked a woman's company. In fact, the whole situation felt a little better to him knowing that there was at least one woman he liked.
Razor scanned the heads of the survivors in the dim light, looking for the familiar shade of gorgeous, red hair. Gem was lying down on her stomach in the middle of the small crowd with her chin resting on her folded arms. Razor remembered motioning her off just before he had fallen asleep and suddenly felt himself wishing he hadn't. Slowly, and carefully he stepped between those asleep to get to Gem's side.
