The Historical Violence of My Beast #1

THE HISTORICAL VIOLENCE OF MY BEAST #1

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A prelude to a mock trial;

 

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury

Be at ease

For I aim to please

 

Though the charges shall be brought down

Swift and severe 

 

So much so,

That I volunteer for a monthly beatdown

And I am willing to be whipped

Even if it leads to bloody stripes upon my back

 

After all,  at least I have Christ at my side

My lawyer and my friend

No one else

Could better myself, defend

 

My crimes were thus,

I was an anti-crust!!

I was an apocalyptic beast three times over!!

 

(the mindcrime which I committed between November of 1986

 and May of 1994- would be attributed to my beast #1)

 

the street violence I committed between

1999-2001 would be attributed to my beast #2

 

and I was a beast again in 2008- my beast #3  

(born during a game of chess against the devil “witch” didn’t go so well)

 

The first time I was transformed

Into a hideous beast,

It all started with an argument with a priest

 

He said “Good Heavens,

You can’t come in here dressed like that!”

 

“I think I look like the guy up there

Suffering on the cross”

 

The priest was pissed but at a loss

 

Finally he handed me the communual wafer

Just to shoo me away

 

But Christ appeared to me that day.

He asked me if I would be a peaceful martyr 

“No way, I’m going down kicking and screaming”

And just like that 

Christ vanished as if I had been dreaming

And I forgot all about our conversation

If not  the earlier confrontation at the cathedral

 

But I had been guilty of prideful sin

On that fateful day

And over the next seven years

My soul would pay

 

Seven years is 2557 days

And that’s sure a long time 

For The Lord to allow your sins 

To compile like sand

In the bottom of a damnable hourglass

 

Time was against me

And so was the devil

And I swear he took me

Seven-tenths of the way to hell

 

I’m not saying 

I was a real bad guy

But The Lord would call upon me

To testify

To the workings of Satan and his deadly traps.

I was stranded in purgatory

Yet I crawled my way back

 

Now I’m out to smite back at the devil

And expose his lures

For I wield the sword Excaliber

And praise The Blessed Lord  I’m now cured!

Before we begin

And this is a tale seeped in sin,

Let me just show some appreciation

And gratitude towards the fact that I reside

In a tolerant society

 

Much of this tale takes place in a more reactionary  

And repressive era- (the 1980’s)

 

Alright, let’s get to a few 

Of my deadly sins, shall we?

 

I confess that I,

A long haired, rocking male

Actually aspired to a decent career.

 

And this was back in the early and mid 1980’s

On the San Mateo peninsula

A place and a time where long haired males

Were rarely seen but even less often hired

 

When I was also unfairly denied a military career due to hairpocracy

It was a blow I couldn’t take

And I resolved that you’d realize the error 

Of your mistake

 

My goal was to raise a militia of free (wo)men

Not shaved- headed recruits

Who are scared sh*tless

Cause Sarge is stomping around in his jackboots

 

You’re free to feel that I’m fruit loops

Yet American history bears me out.

 

For the first seventy- five years

Of our nation’s history 

Militiamen provided an indeliable part

Of our fragile young nation’s defense

 

And back then as I so wish it were today

SHAVING THE HEADS OF THE RECRIUTS

MADE NO SENSE!!

 

They were able to fight with their (long) hair,

Ponytails,

And splendid (18th century) coats

 

I wish I could wear a splendid coat myself,

And not just on Halloween

I would if I could

But there are petty, jealous tyrants afoot

Who thrive on snuffing out such dreams

 

But not mine,

No, at least not at first,

For I was driven with an insatiable thirst for justice.

 

When I first became aware 

Of the full nature of our own nation’s oppressive policies

Towards El Salvador and Nicaragua

During the cold war in the 1980’s

(for reference, check out the films “Salvador”

with James Woods and Jim Belushi

or “Under Fire” with Nick Nolte and Gene Hackman)

I knew what I had to do

 

I would attempt to recruit

And train a rocking militia.

 

N.A.T.O. beckoned,

And the defense of Western Europe!!

 

We could do our part militarily

And at the same time

Promote a foreign policy

Which was more sane and humane

 

When I was met instead with scorn

And even called insane

The seeds of bitter hate were born

 

And when I became harassed even more

For my long hair and leather

I thought I’d do better

If human and animal spirits

Were tethered to my soul

 

I’d need their strength in the fight ahead

And so I began to recruit

An army of the undead

 

My goal was to please my merciful Odin

So that he would grant me a sword that was golden

And by that I actually mean a pen

But one which I could wield as a weapon

And slash out with at my historical enemies,

Mostly the over- disciplined states 

Of ancient Sparta and Prussia

Which have infected our own military with their

(dreadful diseases)

(erroneous, over- authoritative way of thought)

 

The bottom line is that 

I’d travel back and forth in time 

In my mind, 

Refighting the famous fights

And ignighting a few of my own.

 

Slaying imaginary foes

Really made me feel at home

 

Along the American frontier I’d roam

And when most of you

Didn’t seem to give a damn

About the American Revolution,

Well, naturally, siding with the British was my spiteful solution

 

I never considered it below me

To launch a vicious slave revolt

-anything to give your complacency a jolt

 

You wouldn’t hire me for a regular career

So I launched my fictitious armies into high gear

 

Ole Sarge had always said (threatened!!)

That he could transform me into a stone- cold killer

Well, I did quite well on my own

And it was the psychedelic drugs, the Heavy Metal

And the devil that delivered

 

You see, a mind is a terrible thing

To (lay) waste

And when the employers 

With scorn

Sent me away

I gathered together my kampgruppe

And my shock troops

And I led them into the fray

 

No world war was too big 

For my overblown ego to handle

 

I guess I should have learned

From Charles from Sweden, Napoleon Bonaparte or Adolf Hitler

IT’S NOT WISE TO ATTACK RUSSIA!!

YOU’LL PERISH, COME WINTER!!

I didn’t give a flying buck

I was so bitter 

 

It must be said that my shaky,

Patchwork Franco-Prussian-Austrian alliance

Surely had it’s moments

 

For it was open season 

When we first attacked the Soviets.

 

I reveled in some of the earlier triumphs

 

When the Ukrainians could see that our aid was generous and sincere

Many came over to our side.

It really gave our cause a boost.

I guess they were sick of being treated

Like they were in cruel Stalin’s caboose

 

Once they were let loose, they fought with a vengeance

As did I,

For I was a repressed and angry guy

 

Not being allowed to serve your country

Made me feel like 2/5ths of a citizen

And it was something I couldn’t stand

So I set out to raise a fictional armee that was grande

 

Speak softly but drive a big panzer

Would be my answer

 

When my mechanized blitz was unleashed against the east

The ground seemed almost to be torn asunder

By the rolling thunder

 

(soundtrack- “Hells Bells” by AC/DC)

 

For I desired the pleasure of being surrounded

By mythological steel

As the enemy was made to reel

 

I was as happy as a clam

Because my tanks were like a battering ram

 

The Soviet line was like a castle wall

But we broke through and into their rear

Spreading fire, spreading fear

 

My campaign was one of shock and claw

And you probably couldn’t contemplate the casualties

 

Even Stalin gasped!!

As he was surprised by how solidly

My udentroops kicked *ss

 

I had mechanized steel plunging towards the soviet line

And the watchword of the day

Was grind, grind, grind 

 

We had to take space and fast

Because Russia was vast

 

The war gave me thrills and delight

Especially the hard fought firefights

 

I had been denied entry into the short-haired world of business

Therefore fictional kills became my business

And business was so good

That it is a miracle

That I was later redeemed

By Christ, the Savior

Who was nailed to a cross of wood

 

What really stirred the fury

In my blood and got it pumping

Was when the tyrannical yanks began appearing in Archangel

After having made the Murmansk run

(they crossed the Atlantic Ocean to come to cruel Stalin’s aid)

 

They were an all volunteer force raised by Marine Corp drill instructors

Who couldn’t tolerate my liberalized Europe.

 

I’d fought them on the streets over here before in real life.

 

First the 1980’s style preppies and suburban hicks

Harassed me for my long hair and Led Zeppelin t-shirts

 

It got worse when I wore my sexy leather pants and vest.

Some of the females were impressed

And it drove the B-town boys mad with jealousy

 

I appeared too free (and available) to their liking

And so they started sniping!!

 

Making up a fictitious load of crap

About how I had to ride a dangerous motorcycle

Or be in some (lame) band

Just to express the fact that I was a Heavy Metal music fan!!

 

Screw that! 

 

I wasn’t about to wear a boring name tag!!

 

I was a vengeful poet

And I had every write to be a sexual, rocking guy

 

My first motto was “Metallica or die”

And my second was 

“Better dead than with a shaven head”

And when Sarge was unmoved

I raged against him instead  

 

In hindsight, I must admit 

That without the scorn dished out by my enemies

My life wouldn’t have been such a chaotic thrill ride.

I wouldn’t have needed to become Dr. Jackal and Sinister Hyde.

I wouldn’t have needed to allow animal spirits inside.

I wouldn’t have felt the urge 

To head back to the 1910’s

To commence with my deadly purge.

 

I never prayed to Satan.

Heck, back then I didn’t even know that he existed.

 

Yet bitterness and hatred are deadly sins

And thus it was a relative- The Great Horned Beast 

Witch slipped in

And ventured down my spine. 

 

He became a friend of mine.

 

Cause boy! Was he helpful in a scuffle!!

 

Whether I was being oppressed

For my style of dress

Or for standing up for the rights of free people to join N.A.T.O.,

When it came time to tousle

I’d just send out an invite to the animal-spirit world

And inevitably, the call would be answered in spades

And when my eyes glazed over

And I became as enraged as a beast who had just escaped it’s cage,

My enemies usually backed away

And went shuffling along 

In search of easier prey

 

So you see, that I had my share of victories

But try as I may,

I still wasn’t able to serve

So I slipped back into my mind-time machine

And gave those shaved-headed recruits

The hell they deserved!!

 

It was “Beauty within the Beast” for real

Cause in my head

There were tank treads

And they were grinding steel

 

Even when the carnage turned badly against me

I still possessed miles and miles

Of precious Russian real estate

Which I didn’t mind trading for Soviet and Tyrant Yankee lives

 

And that I did indeed,

The nineteen-eighty second, the nineteen-eighty fourth,

And the nineteen- eighty sixth divisions 

Suffered the worst of my derision.

All did bleed profusely

(many transfusions needed; imported vultures fed upon the dead)

 

I was actually chivalrous at first

And took on the tyrants tank for tank

But I was so badly outnumbered that my kampgruppe soon shrank

 

To cut to the chase-

The Soviets were heavily aided by the tyrannican yanks

Who shipped in far too many of their Sherman tanks

 

Even the best tactics were of little use

Against the massive waves 

Of Soviet recruits

 

Yet getting kicked out of Russia

Turned out to be a blessing in disguise

For trusting the Germans had been unwise

 

Let’s just say

I breathed a little easier

When, at last, I was back in France

A place where I’m still hoping

A transvestite can find a place to dance

 

Or, who knows, maybe a gigalo 

Can put on a show

 

I’m sorry if I’m offending you

But be forewarned-

If you call me a fag

Then your lady is up for grabs

And if you slander me twice

In my book at least,

That means I’m free to go after your wife!!

 

I’ll leave the rest of the strife

To another chapter 

Suffice it to say

The war’s final days were a disaster

 

I fought it out to the bitter end

And I even employed vengeance weapons

(lightning and psionic blasts, though I skipped the poison gas.

Regardless, my hallow victories wouldn’t last.)

 

I might have gone down 

A bitter man of deadly sin

For these were the eleven which nearly did me in

 

Pride- Why, I often had the lofty pride fit for a king!

 

Greed- The desire to aquire

 

Lust- A burning sensation in the groin.

Be careful you don’t soil your loins.

 

Hatred- In my case it was spite.

I put up a heck of a fight.

 

Sarge and I had a mythological grudge match

Dating back many years.

 

Not to mention that free- spirited gigalos (like me)

Are the foes of the dreaded B-town boys.

 

It was hard to feel joy when they were around.

Though I seldom took off running

It was for me that they were gunning.

 

Sloth- Please yourself too early in the day

And you’ll pay!

 

Gluttony- To devour without a prayer

Or a thought as to how much labor was required

For this nourishing food 

To make it’s long journey

To my awaiting plate

 

Envy- There was hardly anyone that I envied,

Though I was often jealous

Of how certain people 

Had more freedoms than I did

(mostly musicians and rich celebrities)

 

Thrill seeking- (here’s one that I added in)

 

Megalomania- I’m guilty as charged.

I figured I’d have to be a minor god

To take on mighty Sarge and the U.S. Military establishment

 

I had only suffered from these nine deadly sins.

Had I believed in God back then

I might have also been guilty of these others-

 

Faithlessness-

 

Godlessness-

 

Though naturally

I would have been more humble

And less abrasive had I known The Lord

 

I guess what I’m saying

Is that I should have suffered more in silence

Instead of resorting

To extreme historical violence

 

For though I‘d  never been an evil king

I’d been, just as surely, a dark prince

You see, I’d allowed myself to get run over by the devil’s  hoofprints

 

This ends the sad tale of my Beast #1

Or if you prefer- Beast #667- which has to do with myself  being born

Roughly 2/3 of the way through the 20th century.

 

Back then, I had managed to stay out of jail entirely, by the way.

 

I had lived, hoped to reign

Then failed miserably,

My heart wallowing in pain

All the way from the controversial 

Communual confrontation 

At the cathedral (in November of 1986)

Till that glorious day when in my dreams

I first saw God’s blazing light

And was saved from the powers of darkness

And the clutches of the evil one

 

That would be seven years later

Though in truth,

It would be about five months more

Before the evil inside me was finally exorcised

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Let us then discuss, shall we

Ways in which we can remedy the social climate

Which spawns such anti-crusts

For I assure you

It often takes a hostile village

To breed a vengeful beast

 

Let us find out just how it is

That an idealistic man can be transformed

Into a creature so far from the norm

 

It starts with job discrimination.

 

Back when I was earning 

Mostly A’s and B’s in school

People often told me

That I would probably go far

And amount to a lot

 

But then the 1980’s struck

And I was a severe victim of hairpocracy.

 

Suddenly, I only had about half of the career opportunities

Available to long- haired ladies

Or short- haired guys

 

I think it’s sad that

Although I had the superior math skills;

 

(97th  percentile on my  S.A.T.’s,

92nd  percentile for college bound seniors)

 

It was only my girlfriends 

Who were able to get the bank- accounting jobs.

As far as I was concerned

I was robbed.

 

I would have loved to have had a military career

But what can I say- I was a long-haired guy

And therefore unwelcome in your vast military machine

Which so rudely tried to snuff out my dreams

 

I responded by launching a “columbine”

In my own mind

On a mythological Russian (soviet) front

All my own

Far from home

Where the panthers and tiger (tanks) roamed

 

Had I known there was a God

I wouldn’t have trod

Upon such Holy ground.

My reasoning was far from sound.

 

Another “straw which helped 

To break this camel’s back”

Was all the flack I received

Just for wearing splendid 18th century coats

 

You wouldn’t believe all the Johnny Depp- style jokes

 

Actually, my coats have less to do with piracy

And more to do with the American Revolution

Which I feel was an awfully important affair

 

I also like to dress with more flair

 

LEAVE ME ALONE!!

 

After all, I’m a poet

And I ought to have a “write” to show it

 

How dare you laugh at my splendid British Redcoat!!

England is an island 

And her seas are a moat!!

 

One suggestion I have

In order to decrease the threats of violence

Against free- spirited persons such as myself

Is to create a new holiday

Which could go into effect

At the end of each month

 

Let’s call it Hallow’s Eve

 

It would be related to Halloween-

That fun day when a free spirit

Is finally able to dress up how they want

Without suffering harassment

(hopefully, at least!!)

 

Not that I need a holiday

As an excuse to wear a splendid 18th century coat

(even if I have to live in fear,

I’ll do that at any time of the year)

 

But for instance,

I’d like to think that I can wear my SEXY OUTFIT 

More than just once a year

For that’s not nearly enough!!

 

Before I go any further

I want to make it clear

That this holiday need not be a celebration of evil

Like Halloween often appears to be

 

I’ll say a prayer to the best exorcist around

The one, who, by the power of God

Drove the devil down

 

“St. Michael, the Archangel

Defend us in battle

Be our safeguard against the wickedness

And snares of the devil

 

May God rebuke him

We humbly pray

And do now, O prince of the Heavenly Host

By the power of God

Thrust into hell

Satan and all the evil spirits

Who wander throughout the world

Seeking the ruin of souls”

Amen

 

This “wood” be an ideal time

For me to discuss some of the punishments 

Which I would be willing to accept

(for deep into the steppe, I’d crept)

 

As for house arrest, I myself

Volunteered for a long stretch

 

After losing a dangerous game of military chess against the devil

I knew I needed time to heal

Because in my head

There’d been grinding steel

 

Anyhow, I’d be willing to do another stretch of house arrest

(for I do confess that I was quite a pest)

 

I might be willing to do a few years

For I caused a few fears

But only under the right conditions.

For I’d also been well supplied and on a righteous mission

And I ain’t never yet been accused of sedition!

 

If it comes to actual jail time,

I won’t be willing to do any time over 40 days.

If it comes down to a real trial, I’ll plead insanity

And I’ll be glad that most of the statutes of limitations have run out.

 

Forty days and forty nights

Should hopefully suffice

Or else my lawyers might have to roll the dice

And aim for a self-induced execution

 

I believe in poetic justice

And a crucifixion peals like 

A proper price for an anti-crust

 

I realize that your state might not cooperate 

But my few friends and I might be able to pull it off

Woodn’t that regal!!

 

I just want it to be fair, square and legal

 

I’d feel like a Northern European Barbarian

Who’d conjured up the full might and fury of Rome

When all I wanted 

Was to serve as a Roman ally against the mighty powers of the east

 

But I’d conjured up too many spirits

And upon my soul, they’d feast

Two lost games of military chess, and both times I became a beast!!

 

So bring it on!!

A crucifixion, Roman style.

 

I was guilty of sin

Thus, the nails should be driven in

 

There were too many times that I failed

That’s why my hands should be driven through with nails

 

I’ve made too many mistakes

That’s why my feet should be driven through with stakes

 

I should be crucified upon a dead tree

Because I waged against thee

 

I should be spread out upon a cross

Because my (str)ife was often one of loss

 

You’ve probably heard of the “good thief”

He suffered also.

So did many of Christ’s first apostles

 

At least, I hope I won’t have to be crucified upside down

Like Saint Peter, the first Pope of the early Catholic Church

That “wood” be far worse!!

 

So please accept my pleas

Jail won’t suffice for the likes of these!!

 

I’ve got my inner beast under wraps,

And once I’m done with my 1600 days

(five years spent advancing my careers)

It will be time for my extremities to pay

For they’ll be punctured by sharp and piercing steel

 

My, the pain my nerves will feel!!

Yet perhaps this is how it was foretold

That one so bold should suffer 

 

This might be just a mite 

Of the searing pain

Endured by Christ, The Mighty King

 

He had to suffer for everybody’s sins

And I merely need suffer my own

Yet shall I then,

In Heaven find a home

 

That Wondrous Kingdom

Beyond believing 

And free of grieving

 

Alright, maybe just a little bit of sin

For I strongly believe that I shall be let in

 

If I do, you can label me Saint Vith

For once upon a time

I was a dark lord of the sith

 

Let me confess some more forthwith;

 

A poetic intermission;

 

It’s true that I was a Yankee Doodle Dandy

But I might have come in handy 

And I could have been used

 

Instead I wandered the streets confused

And when my shoes became worn

And the lovely ladies “wood” look at me with scorn

That’s when the seeds of bitterness were born

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When sarge and I had at each other

It was like a minor biblical event

 

For we each had torrents of abuse to vent

 

The use of abusive cursing was unequivocal 

 

He’d belt out a dose

Of filthy bombast

And I’d realize that he owned the present

And so I’d slink back into the past

And the joy from the ficticious bloodbath which ensued 

Was sure to last.

A hearty repast!!

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“Redemption” by Michael de Angelo

 

I descended ever deeper down Slaytanic werepaths

“Witch” led to ficticious bloodbaths

 

Trust me, I put up a fierce resistance to your shaft!!

 

I fought against it tooth and nail

And tried to raise a militia but to no avail

 

You can call me a loser because I failed

But it was on a grande scale

And in the end, I was saved by the Holy Grail

Christ’s Loving cup

 

Nowadays I partake

Because it was out of Love for us

That Christ conquered the snake

When He offered Himself up

To be impaled on a stake

 

Praise The Lord and Hallelujah!!

He Love me even in my darkest hour

 

Raise the sword and Hallelujah!!

I’ll be like a prince

Serving a great Lord of power!!

 

Praise The Lord!!

Ever shall He reign

 

Praise The Lord

Every (wo)man shall be born again

 

All shall Hail

The Everlasting King

And revel in the Glories

His fair Kingdom shall bring