My Attempt at Poetry.

I can see it now.

The motivation, the drive, the push, the smoke, the effort, the friction from the heat from the grind on the street.

 All in the name of who? What? Them? Sure.

They watch and pull the strings that keep their little system pure.

But I can feel it now. The rising of the tide, the weeping of a bride,

the sadness of a child and the struggle of the working mans pride.

For a century now the majority slept with eyes wide shut BUT!

No longer, the information is all free and the masses they grow stronger.

 How could anyone just sit back and accept that a man is not anymore entitled to the sweat on his brow,

But a man in a suit is allowed to impose heavy taxes on the meat from a farmers cow.

The structure is a mess and  we are starving for a new direction

maybe some adjacent foreign country could put us through a “biological weapons inspection”.

 We seem to have forgotten that there is a higher capability in a truly equal society

and what I am about to propose might get some one up in the sky's eye on me.

Think about the future of when you have your first child,

what kind of life do you want for them,

will you keep sleeping and hide in denial.

Or will you open your eyes and breathe with me for the first time,

and shout at the ones responsible:

 “ YES, THERE IS SOMETHING FUCKING WRONG!”

It's time for us to stand strong and take back the country that is meant to be ours.

Because lets face reality, there is 373.9 Million of us and 535 of them.

Who do you think would win in a fight on the street.

Prologue (The Sanctified 7)

      I have always wanted to right a book and the other day I had a completely outrageous, random, outburst of creativity that is really coming together as a unique world I have never really seen the likes of before. I thought I would put this first bit of what I have so far up just so see what people think about it. I have already sent it to a few of my close friends and have gotten consistently good reviews. Enjoy,but please keep in mind that any concepts in this are my personal intellectual property and I would appreciate if you didn't steal anything from me. Hope you all like it!

" So this is how it all ends" he thought, kneeling at the center of the battle field clenching his teeth in

anger as the blood and bile ran freely from his maw. "Pain" that single word had taken on an almost absence of meaning in his existence over the course of the last few millennium, but he felt it now, and he accepted it with open arms as the whole of the revolution stabbed and, slashed, and gouged at his rapidly falling defenses. "If only they knew what they were doing, If only these "heroes" had an inkling of what they were about to unleash they would think twice about their actions." As his life force continued to fade he felt the remaining arms of evil slowly encroaching upon the barren lands that he and his brethren had built with their bare hands.  He struggled to maintain consciousness amid their onslaught reflecting on everything that had happened, the necessities of his actions. The seemingly cruel tactics utilized by him and his brethren to maintain the country were always perceived as unfair, or inhumane, when in reality the actions that were thought to be oppressive to the people, were the same actions that kept something far worse than themselves at bay. He felt it's presence readily waiting on the outsides of the nether its grasp cold and harsh on his mind, smiling with anticipation. He was the last of the Demi-gods, the last of the Sanctified Seven, the final line of defense for the rabble, and he had failed, destroyed by the same thing he was trying to defend. He managed to look up from the ground and gaze upon the sea of bodies pulsating before him, spitting and cursing as they tried to finish him off. The crowd began to part and he saw him, their leader. Approaching to apply the final blow that would ultimately lay waste to this land. "XETHRIS! Your Iron grasp on this land has finally come to an end!" The crowd cheered as he drew his blood  soaked blade from its sheath. "Your brothers!-" He paused mid sentence to lay his first strike directly across his neck, sparks and blood flew as enchanted steel 

met Strengthened bone "have already met the same fate-" with a similar pause he lay his second blow across the side of his skull causing blood and sparks to spray into nearby brush catching them on fire.  "With your death I announce the freedom of my people! And the beginning of a new age in this world" The ignorant revolutionary  planted the tip of his enchanted blade just inside the center of his diaphragm. "Do you have anything left to say before I lay waste to your corrupted soul?" Xethris looked up from the ground directly into the eyes of the man who held his life. He sneered at the cliche of his appearance, at the self righteous ideals that drove his sword, but mostly that such a man was able to topple gods. He reached out into the man's mind. He was a proud man full of worry for his sons, discerned at the future 

that lay ahead of them. Then Xethris spoke with his true voice for the first time in many hundreds of years causing the earth to tremble as every syllable passed through his lips. "With my death comes your demise" He reached out and pulled the sword deeper into his chest until it pierced his body entirely, and then as one final act of defiance, he unleashed thousands of years of his memories into the man allowing him to realize what he had done, the justification of the Demi-gods actions, the truly righteous intent of their rule and the final outcome of his revolution. The man stared into the eyes of the dying Demi-god wishing he could take it all back. The horrors of what had been injected into his mind was far beyond human comprehension. As he removed his sword from the chest cavity of Xethris, he took his final raspy breath and the dim glow faded from his eyes as he fell to the hard stone floor. Cheers erupted from the crowd, entirely oblivious to the intimate contact that  had just occurred in an instant before their eyes.The man turned to his followers with a face of frenzied dissolution. When they pleaded for a speech from their new 

king he said simply "We are all doomed...." and slit his own throat before them.

My first song.

Hey look, the lyrics to my first song. Thoughts?

Well darling ill tell you if you ever ask me that question that you always do
If this would have worked out then just be assured all I would have wanted is you
but mask all your hatred and silence you footsteps because what I'm saying today
is all of the texts and the letters you send are just cannon fodder to me.

And please don't get my motives distorted Because shit could start to look bad (on me!)
because everyone knows that behind all your yelling there's a personal reason you're sad.


 Screams-  All those fucking lies!

I told you twice

Screams- You don't mean shit to me!

You never changed

Screams- Fucking listen close

The song goes out to you

Screams- For what you put me through!

I'm writing this as just a reminder that this was all your fault because for once this time ill finally get a chance to be right instead of you.
So cast out another line I don't care if you're fucking crying just keep me out of your life
and you wont have any problems with mine.
Just wallow in your footsteps and give no divide because I've already said this a million times
 If you fucking put in what you expect to get out maybe next time you'll get another try. Its okay to be lied to if the timing is right as long as shes not the one next to me crying all night.


Screams-  All those fucking lies!

I told you twice

Screams- You don't mean shit to me!

You never changed

Screams- Fucking listen close

These words were made for you

Screams- For what you put me through!

Reminiscing on you and that silent disaster



Screams- I WASH MY HANDS OF YOU!

General thoughts.

              If you haven't noticed the pacing of this blog has changed a little bit. I have grown up alot and my values have changed a good bit since my old content. I still thoroughly plan on telling the rest of my stories eventually, but much more spaced out than I originally planned. What can I say its been a while but I did say I was a chronic procrastinator. Hope you enjoy.

             The depths of ones imagination only go as far as said person will allow it to. Considering yourself different among the masses, feeling like you have something that everyone else does is not an uncommon feeling. Realistically, every single person has that same feeling. Humans as a whole are selfish creatures. We try to separate ourselves from one another whether it be through our goals or our hobbies, our tastes in music or our like or dislike of certain lifestyles. Its hard for some of the sheep to come to terms with the fact that no matter how hard you try to fight against conformity, no matter how much you struggle to make yourself an individual via the clothes you wear, or the "posts" that you slather over social networking sites, or the scarf that you wear around your neck to make your self look more like the models in fashion magazines, or the angst y pictures that you take for Instagram hoping that someone will notice you for the REAL artist that you are, The bleak underlying fact that we are all just people trying to get through this world and be recognized for SOMETHING be it the worlds most notorious serial killer, or the worlds most vain diva. I myself am no different, I have my dreams and my goals just the same as everyone else however far fetched or lackluster they may be, they are all a means to an end just the same. I however have always fallen into the limelight category. I want people all over the world to know who I am. I want to create music that will catch the ears of people who are missing something in their lives. I want to write tales of such epic expanse that will ultimately leave their imagination reeling with an intoxication that they have yet to experience  I want to be free to do as I please, and have the funds at my disposal to bring those less fortunate with me to experience the same. And as grand and as unique as all this may sound, It takes us right back to the beginning  There is a large percentage of people who want these same things. We just happen to fall into the category of dreamers that wants to live higher and do bigger than is physically possible (which is painful to admit). We are all in the constant and endless pursuit of happiness  What is true happiness you may ask? Well that question is a tad bit difficult to answer my friend. For example: I want to be famous and wealthy beyond my wildest dreams via composing music and writing story books. A good friend of mines Idea of happiness is to live alone in a log cabin in Tennessee with his dog, a shotgun,  a radio, and access to enough hard liquor to finally drown New Orleans  Although, his means to an end is not as common as my own among people I can literally guarantee that someone out there wants that same exact thing. Probability sucks sometimes.  I guess what I'm getting at is people should just do whatever they want to do. Don't let anyone else tell you no because its not "socially acceptable", or because " You have to be mentally unstable to really believe that's going to work."  Life is a struggle for us low men wallowing along with the masses and if you want to achieve any of your goals at all you cant have people telling you what you can and can't do. One of the best quotes I have ever heard goes a little something like this (I'm paraphrasing here of course) it made more sense to me than most things I hear nowadays. He said " Every truly successful person on the face of this planet got where they are not by accident, not dedication to upholding the rules that govern their craft. But by blatantly and outwardly shattering those very rules." You know what that says to me? Fuck those people. Fuck the naysayers and the rule makers and the spineless family members and bureaucrat's that tell you that you CAN'T do It because you aren't good enough or you'll never make it; because ultimately if you don't make it, it will be because you listened. You took what they had to say for fact and you through your own personal happiness to the wayside so you could fit in or be what they call "successful". If you want to do something that you think might assist you in your own personal pursuit of happiness then tie your ears down, lace up your shoes, dive headfirst into a big bowl of shut the fuck up and just DO IT ALREADY.

Let's Talk About Naivety.

Over the course of about 20 years, the sincerity found in relationships has degraded to the point of almost non-existence. With the newest Influences found in music, movies, and general society, binge drinking and casual sex have almost become the social norm. If I have any reason to believe in some kind of mythical deity it would be that sole reason. For those of you who know me personally, you have seen me evolve through the complicated intricacies of the social ladder. From a kid shitting his pants in a skating rink bathroom, to the polite seventeen year old, who is "oh so naive", and all too trusting of the deceit and tricks of the promiscuous female psychology. All the way to the vengeful, drunken, will -say anything- to- get -in-a-girls-pants, asshole that I am today. Now be aware, the previous description of my evolutionary timeline is vague at best. The actual transformation involved many more layers and stages, one of my personal favorites being my transition from naivety, to reckless disregard for other people's feelings.


After a failed two year relationship ending in an illegitimate pregnancy that I had nothing to do with, I went on a bit of a rampage. When it came to females, I had zero respect. Compulsive lying became an everyday occurrence. And as long as I knew it was going to get me laid, I didn't give a FUCK. One girl in particular was absolutely in love with me, and hell-bent on trying to make me settle down with her. Of course, I was not having any part of that shit, especially considering the fact that on a scale of 1-10 she was about a four, and my average standards for actually dating a girl stood around an eight at the least (still the same to this day as a matter of fact). Honestly the only reason I was keeping this girl around was because our conversations normally went a little something like this. (Keep in mind that I didn't have a car at this time, and I was only seventeen years old).





-Me (talking on the phone) "Hey what's up? You wanna come over?"



-Obsessed girl- "HEY! I was just thinking about you baby!"



-Me- "That's what's up. Hey, before you come do you think you could pick me up a log of dip and something to eat from Burger king?"



-Obsessed Girl- "Sure baby you know I got you."



-Me- "Awesome, get me a Large Deluxe grilled chicken sandwich, with fries and a HI-C"



-Obsessed girl- "That's my favorite hahahahaha!"



-Me- "Don't get anything for yourself please. I don't want you to smell like burger king while I'm fucking you later."





-OG - "Oh yeah, that's always kind of gross. Do you want anything else?"



-Me- "Yeah the dip, remember? Make sure you get Copenhagen Wintergreen. I don't want any of that Grizzly Mint crap."



-OG- "Oh yeah the dip! I can be so forgetful sometimes! I'll be over in a little bit babe, I love you!



-Me- "Me too."


The next step after one of these pretty much scripted phone calls, was for me to go into my room and play video games until I got a text message informing me she was in the driveway, which I would blatantly ignore. After about ten minutes I would reply with "Go ahead and let yourself in." She would then proceed to come in, have a seat on my bed, and watch me play games. After a while (seemingly right on schedule) she would begin to let out sighs of frustration, and start making comments about how I was not paying any attention to her, and then make this really annoying sound (almost relatable to human speech) about something concerning her feelings. These complaints were pretty much always blotted out by the sound of my chicken sandwich and my Xbox. After I finished my meal I would suggest we have sex, at which point she would forget her meager complaints and immediately oblige. The only problem I had with banging this girl was the fact that she CONSTANTLY wanted us to be face to face... Honestly getting this girl to do anything but Roman Catholic Missionary was like pulling teeth. This obviously wasn't my first choice of position considering her little issue with genetic cosmetics, but I would normally go along with it for the first twenty minutes or so just to keep her thinking that she could make me do anything she wanted, when in reality it was me who was in control; weird how that works huh? Now for the best part of our daily ritual, the part where she leaves without nagging or asking questions. Realize what I just said. This girl would come over to my house, bring me food and tobacco, watch me play video games, fuck me, and then go home without another word. It was fucking awesome. I probably would have considered wifeing her up if she was hot.


So I told you that story to tell you this story. One night after our daily ritual she wanted to go on a drive. I was dressed pretty much like a slob, I had my normal; stay -in-the- house- all-day video game attire on, and I really didn't want to go anywhere after sex. But she kept insisting and kept insisting until finally I gave in, threw on some flip-flops and hopped in her car. We drove about 20 minutes until we reached an abandoned parking lot. She flashed me a coy look and got into the back seat.

-Me (staring at her in the back seat)- "What the fuck are we doing here?"


-OG (taking her clothes off)- "I always wanted to fuck you in my car, get back here"



-Me-"Are you fucking kidding me? It's 9:30 at night and you drove me all the fuck the way out here to fuck in your car?! We could have done that in my driveway!"



-OG-(now in nothing but her shirt.)- "Awwww, c'mon baby it will be fun!"



-Me-"Jesus Christ... Fine but don't expect any kind of fucking performance. I really would rather be at home."



-OG- "Don't worry about It baby, you know I don't care about that, I just want you inside me."
(By the way I absolutely hate it when girls say that. It makes me feel completely disgusted. I don't know, maybe that's just me personally.)


I proceed to get in the car and climb into the back seat. I start getting into it without any real enthusiasm, until I notice that her shirt is hooked onto the handle of my car door, and every time I thrust it comes closer and closer to pulling the handle and disengaging the door latch. When she's not looking I reach up and unlock the door. I start thrusting as hard and fast as I possibly can in an effort to get the door to swing open, when finally... SUCCESS! The car door is now only being held shut by gravity and with every ounce of hate for the female population in my body built up to this moment, I put both my hands on her chest and push her out of the car and into the parking lot. I begin giggling like a 5 year old who just got a new transformer as I proceed to slam the door shut, turn on the overhead light, and lock every door in the car. "OG" Is now standing outside the door of the car with no shoes or pants on banging on the window and screaming curses at me like I just murdered her family. I cracked the window just enough to inform her that "Screaming is only going to attract attention!" After realizing that I'm right, her irritated screeches turn into loud pleading whispers.



-OG-(in a loud whisper)- "Alan, Let me back in the fucking car right now, people are going to see me naked! WE'RE GOING TO GET FUCKING ARRESTED!"


-Me- "Correction. YOU are going to get fucking arrested for being naked in a public parking lot."


-OG- "Alan, you are being such a fucking asshole right now. FUCKYOULETMEBACKINMYFUCKINGCARORIMNEVERGOINGTOTALKTOYOUAGAIN!"


-Me-"You should really be more polite to the guy that holds the fate of your criminal history in his hands. "


It then occurred to me that I could possibly use her plight to my advantage. So of course I began to use her nudity as a bargaining chip.

-OG- "Fine. Alan, can you please let me back into my car so I don't get arrested. I'm going back to college soon and I don't want to get into trouble.


-Me- "That's better. Now I'll let you back in the car on one condition. You have to let me put it in your butt.


-OG- "NO! You know I don't do that it's gross!"

-Me-"Well I haven't ever done it before, so it could possibly be your only bargaining chip to protect your higher education."

After about 10 minutes of pants less negotiation back and forth I settled for a blow job. (I'm a sucker for fellatio. Sue me.) . She finished me off, drove me back home, dropped me off and asked me to call her, but after that little incident I pretty much just stopped. Soon following my break in contact, weeks and weeks went by where I was overburdened with scorning text messages, and empty threats of violence from boyfriends, which I barely batted an eyelash at. Soon enough the texts stopped and I never really heard from "OG" again. I can only assume one of two things happened to her 1) she's successful and right about to finish up her college degree. Or 2) she's failing out miserably with a few kids and some other dickhead going to town on her crotch. I should feel bad but to be totally honest I'm pretty much indifferent. Let's be honest, if you are a college student, letting a thoroughly average looking 17 year old kid take advantage of you, you probably deserve it. 

Work Blog

A lot of people in the world would call me a slacker for having a lot of free time at work. I like to see it as more of a reflection of their jealousy for my job and disdain for their own. Fuck, if I was working in a movie theatre, scraping gum and popcorn off the shitty rubber floors while simultaneously juggling an associate's degree, child support, and a 35 year mortgage, I would probably hate my life too. Gloating aside, the everyday struggle of searching for work to do at my job has a tendency to get mildly tedious. I mean think of the situation I'm in on a daily basis; I'm constantly flanked by people who are higher up on the proverbial food chain than myself, and they are in complete belief that If everyone in the office isn't constantly engaged in some sort of menial busy work, the entire universe is going to fucking IMPLODE. This may seem like an overstatement to some of my civilian readers. But all you assholes in the military know exactly what I'm talking about; The constant fear that your Sergeant is going to come around the corner, only to completely dismantle you in front of your juniors for: "NOT HOLE PUNCHING THE FUCKING MENTORING JACKETS!!!!!!"

Honestly the only reason I'm getting away with writing right now, is because I have a chronic streak of unreasonable paranoia and a quick "alt-tabbing" thumb and ring finger (Thank science for proper typing technique!). I'm sure the civilian sector has its own share of problems when challenged with scraping through a 10 hour work day with nothing to do other than scan through The Chive, and mindlessly alphabetize filing cabinets. But at least they have the ability to unionize to avoid being thrashed by their manager. Besides, think of how ridiculous it would be for a manager in casual office attire to scream maniacally at his peons for not meeting their deadlines; that's a fucking lawsuit waiting to happen. On the other hand, I feel like the fact that I always hold the option to throw my minions to the wolves, and run to the shady recesses of the outdoor smoke-pit (which has almost become a safe zone for screaming across the "P.O.G" Marine Corps) whenever I see fit, Is a pretty good common ground.


To be completely honest, I find it a bit frustrating to be micro-managed by my bosses, only to walk to the other side of the office to turn in paperwork, and find them getting playing "Words with friends", and watching the football game. AWESOME. I didn't want to watch the Giants game at all; I was completely content doing everyone else's bullshit fucking paperwork. I hate to bitch and complain but I'm sure a lot of you have some of the same complaints about your upper management that I share. If you feel like you can combat my situation leave comments down below, let's see if we can't get a bit of a conversation going about this.

     If you haven't heard the news yet, I have been extended for an additional year out here in good old Japan. I mean as much as I would like to come back to the states, I have been here for so long at this point I'm basically indifferent. Besides, you can't really beat the pay out here. This was a pretty random topic considering the direction I'm actually looking for this blog to go, but I figure adding any new content to the site at this point is good fuel for the fire. On a side note, I'm happy to have gotten as many views as I have even if it seems menial, but subscribe!!!! More subscriptions = more publicity and views, and this could possibly lead to me becoming an internet personality in my spare time, which could possibly= $$. Needless to say, the practice I'm getting is definitely critical to my future as a writer.

The Beginning of the End of Procrastination..... (And most likely the beginning of some more as well.)

So here it is. The first entry into the diary of all diary's.

I have procrastinated so damn much over the past few years about picking up writing again, that It took me getting into debt to decide to get off my ass and start doing something productive.

I'm most likely going to be off to a rocky start, considering that my past 3 years in the Marine Corps, (which has been spent mostly swilling alcohol down my throat hole, and beating my liver senseless) has left me, without a shadow of a doubt, absolutely fucking brain dead.But fear not my loyal, future fans! In due time my sentence structure will no doubt become more streamlined then a brand new Maserati. ( I had to spell check Maserati..... told you my brains were shit.) Now then, enough nonsensical complaining about my blatant alcoholism, I'm sure you are here to read something far more entertaining. Before we can get to the balls of this long, and no doubt, thoroughly entertaining story, how about a little foreplay;My full name Is John Alan Moore II ( Yes the "second" not JR, my father is narcissistic, sue me.) I was born in Coral Springs, FL and raised in the amazingly wondrous Saint Cloud, FL. I hope you caught my sarcasm there, that was your first test. SC is in fact anything but wondrous. The best part about it is the stupid community college girls running around blowing anything that moves, and its fairly close vicinity to: center-of-the-fucking-universe, Orlando. Now before any successful story, something completely terrible has to happen before something even relatively good happens. Almost like physics, except..... not really.

Just so you can get a good feel for how absolutely shitty my pre-pubescent years were, I have decided to give you a single story just to set the mood for this entire blog. (excuse me If my typing gets a little vulgar here I occasionally need to let my "real nigga" out in order to properly tell this particular anecdote.

When I was about twelve years old I thought I was the baddest mother fucker alive. I talked shit like Muhammad Ali on steroids, before the Parkinson's. The only problem is, I stood about 4'11 and weighed in at a "solid" 160 Lbs. One night, after begging my parents to go out to the local ice skating rink for about seven and a half hours. I got in a mild argument with a real fucking winner. the kid was at least sixteen years old, 145 Lbs and had clearly reached puberty way before my fat ass managed to. After challenging him to fisticuffs in the local bathroom for about 30 minutes, I finally managed to get him mad enough to fight me. The really funny thing about this Is, I was scared for my life. Because with as much shit as I talked, to as many people as I did, I had never been in an actual fight before.....

Let me take a break here to read your thoughts quickly. You are right now either, A) scrolling to the back button to find something else to read. B) Think this is a waste of your time because of the generically drafted tale. OR C) are pissed that I took this break in the story in order to recapture everyone's attention. Just a precautionary measure to keep everyone on the same page, because I assure you, this does not end at all like you think it is going to.

So with my knees shaking, I swallow my pride, and follow the (justly, mind you) testosterone enraged, mongoloid to the bathroom. He stands back and like a gentleman allows me to have the first swing, and without any knowledge on how to fight at this point in my life, I begin to throw a pissy, girlish like tantrum, feebly trying to unleash some sort of damage on his face. This immediately turned into the following scene which to this day still rolls out like a set of photographs to me;

1) While flailing my arms around like a retard, I hear a sort of chuckling sound.

2) Upon looking up I realize I am looking into a giant oncoming fist.

3) After being punched hard as shit directly in my fucking eyeball, i stumble back into the trashcan/backwall.

4) My meatball like shape and size do not let me recover fast enough to defend myself properly.

5) I see a black and white converse coming at the lower end of my stomach, which upon impact presses me up against the wall.

6) My bowls start rumbling....

7) He pushes me harder against the wall and the boyish sounding words that I will never forget to this day came out of my mouth. " OH SHIT DUDE! IM GONNA SHIT!"

I managed to break free from the wall, and make a break for the stall that was directly adjacent to us. But before I could get my pants unbuttoned completely, Fucking disaster. I fucking shit EVERYWHERE. Ladies and gentleman when I say everywhere I mean EVERYWHERE. My pants were completely filled with a sloshy, dark brown, bile like substance that smelled like rotting placenta. There was a trail leading from the wall all the way to the cheesy, plastic, black, and white checkered stall. Sitting in the stall completely ashamed of what had I happened, I heard Hysterical laughter. To my disdain, the guy had ran out and grabbed all of his friends who proceeded to climb over the stall and spit on me, while I was frantically trying to clean myself off. I grew bitter, but then I got a little older and a little wiser and realized that It was probably a well deserved ass whooping. I just think Its sad that someone could reach the absolute lowest point in there life In the sixth grade.

As ridiculous as that story was, I can guarantee things have gotten tons better for me. This little story was simply an introduction to the early years of my life, so you can come to understand my slow rise to power, and inevitable triumph over every fucking person I meet. On a serious note this was a test run. I can promise a lot better content as I go, I just need to get back into that little concept of basic grammar, spelling and creativity. Ill be posting some drunken rants and other things. Its all depending on what the people want and as for right now..... this entire page is empty so I guess we can just see how It goes.

Peace out everyone