The tale of Dasan

Gather round all those who want to hear a tale from long ago. a Short tale filled with mystery, bravery and sorrow…


You see this tale starts in the snowy mountains somewhere in north america, where winters grew ever more frightening as the snows began to fall and the rivers began to freeze over. The lived a small tribe of native people there and though their names are scratched from history the old legend still remains till this day. there was a man named Dasan. He was the only son of the widowed Nuka, the spirit guide of the tribe. They had lived on the far edges of the settlement and rarely intervened with the village for you see they had a dark secret.


Inside of Dasan lived two horrible beasts. these beasts became known as Wapi and Seke, the twin wolves. Their story can be found all throughout the world and as mostly known as Yin and Yang. They were born alongside the boy under a bloodied red moon in the late hours when the stars marked and dotted the skies like fireflies. Dasan had been kept secret from the village and he had sworn to his mother that he would never set foot inside. Trespassers came and went from time to time but Dasan was never found until…


One day while he was picking spiritual herbs from their garden for his coming of age he heard a strange sound coming from the riverbank. He had sworn to his mother that he would never seek out any trespassers and that he would remain a secret however, he had spent countless moments of his life only ever peering through the thick shrubbery at unwelcome wanderers and he had gotten lonely. He had never known anyone other than his mother and he barely remembered his father and so as any hormone crazed teenager with a disdain for boredom he went off to investigate.


On that faithful day, Dasan had seen the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes upon. Her name was Chenoa and she was the famed daughter of the chieftain. She and some of her other maidens had decided that on that very day they would disobey the chieftains wishes and wandered off into the wilderness. Unknown to them, they had gotten lost and had no way to retrace their steps. Everything appeared the same for miles and their only rescue was the strong and proud river.


Dasan knew he couldn’t let this oppertunity go, He had never met anyone apart from his own mother and he had never seen another woman, let alone one as gorgeous as Chenoa. He noticed his heart wanting to tear from his chest and he was sweating arrows. This reminded him of the time his mother took him hunting for the first time when he had shot down his first deer in the mists of summer. He remembered his mothers words from that day: “don’t fear, fear my son, it is your weapon…your ally.”


He had already decided to walk up to the maidens and introduce himself and so he did. He kept his mothers words in his mind and saw only his goal. Chenoa noticed him walking towards them as did the others. Being the daughter of a chieftain they knew no one would dare touch her however Dasan was unaware of the customs. He swore he saw the maidens smile for a second before they turned towards Chenoa, asking her what to do next. I am no linguist but I imagine that their conversations where less than formal and immensely awkward the moment Dasan arrived. The maidens did not know where they were and so they trusted Dasan to lead them safely back to the village, they had no other choice.


Dasan had never been to the village but needless to say he didn’t mention that small detail for he wanted to be of help and at best, impress Chenoa with his heroic actions. At this time, the beasts inside of him where stirring out of control. They fed on his emotion and knew when he was weak, so at the moment that they met the wolves had their very first taste of lust. He had bravely led them away from the river along the path he always saw his mother disappear on when she had went to the village for much-needed supplies. He didn’t know this path however and soon he also found himself lost.


The legend says that they spent days living off of the forest floor, Dasan knew how to hunt, forage and cook so he could easily satiate the needs of the maidens. They knew he was lost but they had no other way of finding the village and as some accounts go, they even remained because Chenoa had stared to sleep ever closer to Dasan in the cold nights. Dasan definitely had strong feelings for the chieftains daughter but if she felt the same still remains a mystery till this very day. One night as the night grew colder than ever Chenoa had been seen laying with Dasan, staring at the stars. They had stayed up after all the other maidens where asleep in their own rugged shelter. That night you could hear the sounds of war drums and the smell of sweat had filled the forest canopy.


If she didn’t feel anything for Dasan before, she definitely did that night. The next morning they had set out again as days turned into weeks, they finally saw smoke in the early hours of the morning coming from the horizon. They had finally found the village but this had instilled no happiness in either Dasan or Chenoa, for you see the night that they had gotten lost was a wedding festival as she was to be wedded to the war masters eldest the next day. Chenoa had never spoken about this to Dasan before and as the maidens ran for towards the village many villagers came to see their return.


Dasan had never set foot inside the village before, and like moths to flame the villagers were attracted to him harboring suspicion and anger. “Who is this man” they cried out. “Did he kidnap the chieftains daughter?” someone yelled from among the crowd. The Chieftain hurried to the scene along with his War mater and the War masters eldest son. Dasan had finally figured it out, but it was too late when he saw this man embrace the one he learned to love. The beasts inside where rising up into his throat, and he had given the final victory to the Black wolf Seke. Rage had filled his heart when he hear that man call Chenoa his beloved wife and Dasan lost control of the beasts inside of him.


His flesh began to tear from his body as he turned into a vile great wolf. The creature he had become had fur darker than the night sky and eyes engulfed in flames. He had charged the war masters son and in a bloody fit ripped open the chest of the man. After the black beast Seke had a taste for blood he couldn’t stop. He began to devour everyone he saw as the warriors all tried and failed to kill Dasan, now Seke. In his stupor He didn’t realize that he had killed everyone in the village and when he came to, he stared into the lifeless eyes of Chenoa, the only person he had ever loved. He killed her! He killed everyone!


That day, Dasan was no more, and Seke was born anew. They say you can still hear Seke cry in the lonely hours of the night for his love Chenoa before his hunt. He will never be forgiven and some say the gods cursed him to walk the earth untill another could learn to love him, Seke the beast, for the man Dasan was no more. His mother never saw him again and some say that she prayed to the gods for weeks going without food or drink and eventually died of starvation and cold.


This was a sad tale, but a tale I think we can all learn from. We all have our own two beasts inside of us, and who you feed the most, the one you give the most attention to will always win. Dasan never got to know Wapi, what of you fellow reader? Will you find Wapi, or give in to Seke like Dasan did?


Thank you for your time








To realize your future, you must forget your past…


What is a perfect future? What makes a utopia? a Synonym for utopia is “heaven” now I want you to take a moment to think about that. a Utopia is an imagined place where everything is bliss, perfect in every way. Imagine a world with no wars, no disease or no pollution. Imagine that you have finally found your utopia.

You see, I have found my utopia, how you may ask? I have found it through many harsh trials and devastating mistakes but I eventually reached it. I am by no means a profit here to show you my utopia, I am simply here telling you this because I want you to find yours. Now im no fool, I know this isn’t utopia, this isn’t heaven or near paradise. I know there are still things like cancer killing millions, 163 people out of every 100 000 per year to be precise and I know of  the climbing suicide rate in our youth. There is so much this world is missing, still so much evil.


However, I found my utopia through people like Josh Worley, a 14-year-old teenager who founded his own radio station to help other unemployed youngsters gain enough experience and knowledge about the world to help them when they leave school.

Or Sarah Phillips, a 17-year-old whose mother tragically died of cervical cancer and after posting a video to Youtube where in she sang Paolo Nutini’s “autumn”, she helped raise over $560000 for research into cervical cancer. These like many more inspired me to find my utopia, my perfect world and it’s thanks to them that I have.


It pains me to know that I will never be able to physically see my utopia but I’ve found it, in the next generation, in our youth and I know that they all carry the same vision of a perfect world in their hearts. So lets stop imagining a utopia and let’s be inspired by these teenagers and help them help us create our own perfect world. Lets forget about our past, about all the wars and racism and so many other plights and lets look forward through the eyes of our children. Lets pave a way for them to reach Utopia.

Story Time with a touch of God?

So for whatever reason you follow my blog page, or even if you don’t, to find some emotion within yourself, whatever that emotion may be…when reading one or more of my posts, poems and more, all I ask is to bare with me in these times. Because as sad and depressing this may sound, you the reader is at the moment more real to me than my own reality. I just want to also thank you for sticking with me if you’ve been following my scriptures for some time, and if your new… welcome my faceless friend.


Right, well… If you are religious I want to ask that you either turn away at this point or if you feel up to it embark with me upon a journey that you may not have heard before. a Sort of perspective that may not be apparent to everyone and without further ado please, enjoy-ish….


Where to start? Well i guess ill have to go way way back, to when i was but a child not even old enough to grow my first chin hairs. My family was always religious, and i predict they will remain that way at least on my father’s side. I was brought up in a christian home, where both my parents claim to have witnessed miracles themselves, where God saved my mother from jumping of a quite bridge at 2am. to saving my father from having to vacate our home, sell all our belongings and to find us an old tree to sleep under. These occurrences happened far back into the past, to when my mother was still carrying me inside her womb. Yet one thing i have experienced through countless disappointments in Christ is that no matter how many metaphors there may be in the bible or how many stories i can be told about miracles, in the end remain stories. I say this because without experiencing these so-called miracles myself they remain fiction, an image created by my imagination, you see, in the end no matter how many witnesses of miracles I speak to, I will never have any idea as to what they are talking about because of my lack of experience.


So back to the story, I was a joyful child. Without worry or regret. Why you may ask? well because I was a christian at one time in my life, I was manipulated to believe things that I have no evidence of, and i suspect i never will have evidence of. So in my own world, oblivious to reality I was…happy… Then one day things changed, subtle at first and later on snowballing into chaos. You see the church i was in, the pastor at the front, giving his speeches was a master of manipulation. My mother at the time was going through a rough patch, she also suffers from countless mental disorders like myself and the cunning church used those inabilities that resided within my mother to convince my father she was unholy…a demon in human form… Needless to say, he was brainwashed enough to believe them, and choose their words over the one he loved most. This predicament almost cost my family dearly, I can still remember the fights they would have each night behind closed doors. They must have actually believed that i was really asleep, I always was a good actor in dire times i guess. Time passed and, my father luckily came too, and we left that Godless place. Ever since then I am unable to see a house of God with the same eyes.


I started realizing small hints of manipulation within the churches, things that if you are not careful, you can fall prey to as well. Ever really sat down and thought why? Why do you need to pay a tenth? My reasoning is simple, look at the car the pastor drives… the house he lives in, the jewelry his wife wares ( if he has one). They say its symbolic, a way to give back to God… but where did it come from? Well that’s a history lesson for another day, for now ill give a simple explanation; Roman Catholic Churches, but the trail back doesn’t stop there, ancient Egyptians? How you in those times you had to give an “offering” to merely set foot inside a temple? Maybe even further back? Maybe basic human nature itself? In truth, we are greedy… simply put, we strive to better ourselves and once we have, we look down on others, no matter how many times you may deny it. We turn to religion when we feel heavy with guilt, believing that something beyond our comprehension loves us and forgives us for what we’ve done, even if the victim of our discrimination doesnt. We manipulate to gain favor within others, so that some day we can use our “kindness” against them. We fear death, so its only natural to use our imagination to put our fears to rest, believing that there’s life after life. Who am i to say that there is or isn’t? Again, I have no experience with death so i cannot say what is true and what is false. I am not religious, I think you know that by now if you are still reading this but im am not not religious. I am simply unaffiliated and in a way my view of the world isnt all that much sunshine and rainbows but I truly think that is necessary for us as a whole to learn, by asking questions. I am not telling you to abandon your religion, no… I am simply urging you to think. To not look at the world through a two toned veil, where there is only good and evil. Look at the evil, and see the good and vise versa. Do not allow yourself to fall victim to manipulation of church or temple. Wake up! Think!


Why am i saying this all of a sudden? well i visited a church recently, its been a while since i did something like this… and nothings changed. I only wish they would be honest, say the tenth is to further the church, to by yourself new clothes, say its paying for a service… don’t say its the will of God. Be modest, don’t say things like christians are all about saving lives, when you never saved anyone. Dont say that you dont judge because i heard the whispers all around me while i wasnt singing. My scars are MINE and MINE to bare!…and dont look at me and smile, hoping i would sing along….


I don’t have a problem with God, I have a problem with His children.

and news flash by the way… don’t ask God for forgiveness, ask the person you’ve sinned against…that way you might save a life….

I have this image burned into my head…. I was sitting there, in the church, watching everyone pay there tenths, smiling. As we drove out of the parking area… i saw a homeless man, no one batted an eye.


Thank you…. and if you have questions or want to enlighten me… please don’t be scared to email me at or




Deep within himself.

“Where am i?”: she said. “This place, an enigma. Ashes of a world long forgotten.” Who is this person? a Boy, with long dark hair, His eyes make the stars fade into the pale lit sky, My last glimpse as my vision darkens.

As my sight returns I see a young boy this time, he’s… different. He’s crying all by himself as i see a motorcar drive away from him in the distance. Before him, an enormous building painted in such boring colors. Small windows close as a zephyr hurls past him. One step and the another as he starts to walk towards the school gates. My memory dissolves into dust. That boy now sits all grown up, staring out far into the world he calls his own. a lonely bench in the courtyard.

a Crackling voice speaks: “Attention students! There Is someone new joining us today, a transfer student from H.S FrackleBerry. He will be joining class C,2. Please show him our best, thank you.” I look back at the boy, he pays the voice no attention and then; “Pst, Mitchel! The guys here  in our class and he’s cute too. I wonder if hes single?”. That would be Katy, the boys best friend and fellow trouble maker. He’s mouth moves but I couldn’t make out the words. Soon the bell rang and all the other students went off to go have lunch with their friends.

The boy and Katy remained in the class room after everyone left. I’ve been with this boy forever and still i don’t know what he thinks about when he’s so distant. Then something happened which I thought was never possible, He came back to reality and stormed out with a fiery rage in his eyes. I look out as he’s window and I see the transfer student having lunch alone on the bench he always stares at. I decide to chase after him.

As i finally caught up to him i see him standing in the hallway that leads out to the courtyard. I walk in front of him only to see him in tears, beads of sweat trickle down his face with his heart pounding out of his chest. He turns away from me and heads back to the class room, yet he’s acting as if nothing happened. He seemed calm as he sits back down in his chair glaring at the new transfer student boy with a strange, loving look in his eyes. I close my eyes, as i felt a deep, burning pain in my heart and as i opened them I was back with the boy in the dead world.

“I thought i saw some one else here? Did you see him?” the boy said.



Now this was meant for an S.A that i had to write in class today, Yeah I’m back in school Baby! And well, My creativity took control over my restrain. Hope you enjoy, But i have to make alterations to this piece since it exceeds the required limit of words that i am allowed to be use by almost 200!


So I’m posting it here, Enjoy! (and for F!@#$% sakes use your imagination please!)

hehe Have a nice day!

and as always!



Story Time!

The walking stick

Once upon a time,

A small boy found himself in a dense, dark forest.

He woke up in a forest, as he looked around, having no idea how he got where he was. His car crashed in a tree next to him yet he woke without a scratch. The little lost boy looks around in the darkness, seeing trees and bushes through the dim moonlight. Panicked he starts crying, he feels cold and hungry. Having no one around him he crumbles. This has never happened to him before, he never got lost, he always knew where he was so he never experienced this before. “Help!…Is some-one there? anyone?”

The lost boy finally saw the sunrise. “How long have I been here?” Hungry, tired, cold and scared he musters the courage to get up, to find a way out of this forest. There was no road to been seen. “How did i crash all the way out here? How did i even get out here?” He stands to his feet, inspecting his surroundings more carefully. “a stick?” there before him lay a finely carved wooden walking stick. The engraved patterns seemed cereal and the dark wood was of expert craftsmanship. He knew it was meant for him, trusting his instinct he touches the wooden stick. It feels warm, almost burning he drops it yet he couldn’t stand the cold. Carefully edging forward he takes a second chance, and picks it up once again. This time it wasn’t as warm but still warm enough to keep the cold at bay. He started walking, in what direction? We will never know.

He’s feet where already sore after the first step, he pushes through. He takes another step and slowly the crash site faded from view. He started mummering to himself as his eyes started to tear up, his mind stretched and his stomach pained. No-one knows for how long he walked, almost collapsing with every step when he saw a road! It was a poorly maintained road. The tar started to fade and the potholes lined the road mimicking swiss cheese. His eyes lit up when he saw a sign of civilization, no matter how the road looked.

Next to the road he saw a little abandoned house, and as any human would decided to enter in a rush. “Anyone home?” but there was no answer. The house reeked of the dead, and the windows where all but gone, the ceiling was cracked and there was no power. “Offcourse life wouldn’t give me anything, It fucking hates me!” he yelled. He started to thrash around the rooms looking for something to eat, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a long dead rat. Too hungry to think his teeth dig into the rotten flesh and furs of the deceased animal. He snaps the bones for marrow and even peels the skin tearing the out the brain and other assorted guts to feast on, and when he was done, there was nothing left, NOTHING.

Still hungry, it felt like he didn’t even eat at all. The pain wouldn’t go away and he collapses yet again. The walking stick beside him, his hand accidentally falls upon it and suddenly the hole in his stomach was no more. A small enduring burning, irritating  pain still remained though but it was bearable compared to the pain of before. With his hunger satiated and the pain forgotten of he had no choice but to keep walking again.

Time passes, his lungs burning and his throat dry he pushes through, not giving up as he takes one more step, and another and yet another. Days go by, cold nights and fiery days, his feet bleeding, his lungs burning, his body sore and his stomach empty once again. He begs the walking stick to help him again but this time no answer. Angry and sore he throws the beautiful walking stick into the bushes, never to be seen again. He continues to walk in pain, as in the distance he sees a steep hill, as he gets closer the hill gets steeper and steeper. Almost crying, barely conscious and drowning in pain he finds what little courage he has left and starts climbing the hill. a Day goes by and he still can’t see the top, Alone and hopeless he gives up and falls back down the hill. As he falls he thinks back on his journey, No life before, nothing he could remember but the forest, the road, the shack, the rat and the countless days he spent to get to this hill. He falls faster and faster, as the bottom of the hill comes into sight. Suddenly he tries to grab onto anything, knowing that if he doesn’t he would surely die but there was nothing to hold onto, the tar fell from the road when he griped at the cracks. He yells desperately for help but no-one hears him, no-one was even around. The sudden shiver as he feels his bones rip and tear apart. Still barely alive he glances aside, and next to him…The walking stick.

He can now see himself, his broken body in the middle of the broken road. Angry even in death he collapses next to himself, staring at the walking stick. Time alluded him and soon he forgot that there ever existed such a concept. Having only one thought in his mind: Why him? He finally screams it to the heavens as he suddenly rises like hot air, weighing less that a feather. He rises faster than light itself and he finally reaches the top of the hill and what he saw, drained every ounce of emotion from his lifeless body. A small utopia filled with the most beautiful palm trees and exotic buildings, filled with people who smile every day. Then he saw it, the walking stick once again, next to him at the top of the hill. He asked the walking, knowing nothing would happen; “How far did i climb the hill?” To his surprise the walking stick replied: “farther than you think, a few more steps with closed eyes and you would be standing right here, alive and able be umong them.”