I ♥ A Little Carnage

When it comes to the world of superheroes/supervillians everyone has their particular favourite. For many its Batman's arch nemesis The Joker, and yes I admit the Clown Prince of Crime is definately in my top 5 too. But he isn't my number one. That honour goes to Carnage who was first featured in the Amazing Spiderman.
So who or what is Carnage? Well to be blunt he is a pure, psychopath, born to killing as I am born to alcoholic froth. His 'host' Kletus Cassidy shoved his own grandmother down the stairs when he was a child. Young Kletus also tortured his pet dog and burnt down the orphanage he was sent to. So 'troubled child' then.
When I say Carnage has a 'host', let me explain: Carny is an alien symbiote who comes from another symbiote, Venom (another of Spidermans villains). And the Carnage symbiote went into Kletus Cassidy's blood when Cassidy was cut in prison, where he had been sent after turning into a serial killer.


Carnage: truly awesome character design

This crazed, red alien has a twisted philosophy, and believes everybody wants to kill deep down, he just has the guts/nutso streak to actually do it. Carnage doesn't want money or crave power, he simply enjoys killing. He was actually modeled after The Joker, to be a darker version of Venom. Indeed he teamed up with Batty's rictus grinning enemy in Spider-Man and Batman #1.
Carnage has a number of super powers including being able spin webs like Spiderman, and is reported to be double the strength of both the webslinger and Venom. And he has never been afraid of dying. In fact, he has been prepared to face death rather than being made nice!
So why is this Supervillian my favourite? Why have I chosen such an evil character who has a total disregard for human life and lives only for chaos? Well firstly its the way he looks. Carnage is villain perfection to me, looking so utterly vicious, the devil incarnate. The way he has been drawn by artists over the years has been fantastic and he never looks rough in cartoons, stills or videogames. Just really great character design.
Secondly its in his 'psychology'. Most bad guys have a soft side, even Carnage's symbiote 'brother' Venom has morals and can be persuaded to fight for good. Not old Red though! He is heer nastiness, anarchy, chaos, call it what you will, and has no soft side which is very powerful. I also like the fact that one of his powers is he can resist any human disease which makes him beyond the grasp of God to some extent.
He is the ultimate bad boy and there's something I admire about a writer designing a bad guy without a shred of remorse as most cop out when designing villains. And this is why Judge Death is my number two.


Kletus/Carnage

Wondering Where Meadow Ravens Hang

What I am about to say/write is nothing new, so please don't pin back your earholes completely in anticipation of some world stopping revelation brought by the mucas mind of a dry (today) poet. Its nothing new, and something I have said before but there is grit in my tetchy hub of a mind, making me jumpy and frustrated and I must release the grip of the thumbscrews once again.
Religion. Wherever I end up on the interwebz my shapely ass is blown away by the ignorance and fear a lot of people have for it. Man seems to live just fine and dandy in his own church but step inside the kingdom of faith of another and he crumbles, bleeds like a bald dog before a bear's claws. It is truly a puzzle. Not everyone suffers from this absurd fear of course, a lot get on great with other folk of differing beliefs but for those who are afraid, I am at a loss as to understand why.


Stepping stones of fear for most

Its been around ever since we thought it was a good idea to have an all knowing, creating, omnipresent deity to fall to our knees to but what the advent of the super highway and it being in my face every single day, its become so tiresome. Who would have imagined that something as invisible as a god, could be so destructive? So dividing and pulling folk apart. Surely this was not the Plan? The capital P plan? The Christians and Muslims are the two who are currently at it with teeth bared and bibles and korans at dawn, fuelled further by the tragic events of 9/11. Here is an example from the world wise web ~ "I can tell you this much, it's not the KKK, Jews, Baptists that are commiting these acts of terrorism against the USA. It's not the Blacks, Mexicans, Japs, etc that are doing it either. It's Muslems, plane and simple." I left the spelling mistakes in to illustrate the typcial type of lazy ass who make these idiotic statements. Its a pretty foul display is it not?
I appreciate the anger but it wasn't Muslims who plotted and carried out this atrocity. It was brainwashed terrorists, and good honest to God *insert favourite God here* Muslims were appalled by the events of 9/11.
But there will always be those with hidden agendas, needing to plant a seed of hate in gullible peoples heads. And then we are left with names like 'ragheads' and 'turbanators', which quite frankly are vulgar in the extreme and not befitting a supposed civilized world. I suppose people need to resort to something, even something as hollow as name calling, when all reason and fight has billowed from their raspy lungs. And by the way, Im not wanting to deny folk their outrage but its often directed in the wrong direction. And also I myself have use the name 'raghead' in weaker moments so im not playing a 'high and mighty' card here.
Personally with all of the battle axes and war cries that have showered this planet since Man was created/hatched/landed, I find little proof today (little not none) of the existence of a God, certainly not enough for me to follow blindly some lines of preachy text on pages of holy books no matter what their faith.
My world is simple, devoid of the stresses others seem to enjoy living on. I actually DO believe in a being who created all of this *lifts a potted cactus* but its something unlike the rest of the pews believe and I have no dislike to anyone purely because of who they pray to. I don't want to bomb them or force my beliefs down their throats. I have no urge to rip up their holy books and call them barbarians. Why? Because their faith differs from mine? Please, move along, I want to talk to the meat not the limpets.
I'll never get this separtist idea of religion, nor do I want to.

Double Death! World Appalled Shocker!

I will make this as brief as I can because my thoughts on the death penalty are well known by now and I have numerous articles in my blogs about the subject. It does get tiresome, even for a morbid old ghoul like me.
Last week (21st September) Georgia executed Troy Davis. (The Lone Star State, Texas, also offed a racist scumbag but due to Mr Davis he was largely forgotten, as racists should be.) And what a circus did it turn out to be! Largely due to the fact that thousands believed Troy to be innocent. The picture below will show how big of a hulabaloo it stirred up.


A protester in typical pose

Without going into the guilt/innocence issue, this case brought death penalty debates back to the headlines the world over. Even our (UK) radio stations were talking about it, which was interesting as ever since we fell headlong into the European Union's clutches I got the sense that discussing capital punishment was verbotten.
Anyway as usual most of the news (including some US ones) are screaming that execution is a barbaric form of punishment, fit only for the history books and Hollywood. And our lovely British press went along with it.
Excuse me but how Britain and the rest of Europe can slate America is beyond me. (And I am not some blind star spangled supporter who believes nonsense that we were saved by the good ol' US of A in WWII). No this is about Justice, and about how we seem to have binned it while our friends across the Atlantic still believe its actually worth something.
Allow me to make the facts clear, not because I think you dear readers are stupid but to show how good it looks for the United States and how bad it looks for us namby pamby death-is-uncivilsed countries. Imagine both inmates were 100% guilty just for sake of argument. Last wednesday then a racist and a cop killer were put to death in America. They will be no more. They will have no more glimpse of sunshine, or have any feel good endorphins running through their veins on those good days (everyone has good days even in cells). It is at End for these two. There are no more days, good or bad.
Now take a quick imaginary trip over to Britain (imaginary flights are always First Class and theres no jetlag). We are letting murderers and rapists go free after very short sentences almost every other day. One of the 'men' who took part in the murder of Baby Peter is now free after three years and has been pictured by many newspapers (the same ones bleating about the 'barbaric death penalty') wandering in parks, sipping on bottled beer, no care in the world. I believe this cruel thug is only 39, so he has plenty of sunshine left to bask in, plenty of chilled beers to down. For his victim, well Baby Peter's days are no more.
So who are the barbarians here? America? Or Britain (and the rest of the EU)? I would rather have the death of racists and cop killers on my conscience than the death of children and innocence. Sleep easy America and other death penalty countries. Keep a hold of that Justice.

For The Unlove of Dog

In a country (should that be world?) that loves dogs, I seem to be alone in my dislike of the animals. This is fine of course, it doesn't make me an ogre. Or does it? You see everytime I come out and say that I am not a dog lover (to put it kindly) I feel I have to justify myself in some way. It would be okay if I said I hated rats (beautiful creatures) or sloths but to hate the pooch makes me persona non grata. Its frustrating.
Love your dog, cuddle him/her, take them for walkies and throw sticks for them. Im sure these animals give you immense pleasure and I am truly happy for you, but sorry, I cannot share your obvious joy. To me, dogs are a barking shambles (a description I came up wth many moons ago) and I fnd them miserable beasts that I wish to be a hundred miles from. And this shouldn't make me a pariah. I have no partcular fondness for spiders either but nobody would deny me that dislke.
I am not a seal pup killer, or a barbarian who dines on the blood of innocent virgins. I simply have no love for the dog. Hardly a flogging offence, especially when you consider the poor deal the humble chicken has regarding love for animals. As long as folk have ther chicken nuggets the chickens of this world can peck until the cows come home. Nobody cares.
So please, do not think I am Attila the Hun for not liking Lassie and chums. I can be a good friend too. And I like cats. Peace!

Gleision: Two Days Kicked In The Heart

I am still quite emotional so excuse me if these sentences seem thrown all over the page but im writing as the thoughts come to me, not really thinking about what words will come next. The brain has taken a stool in the Numb Saloon and it is my heart that is producing these words you see tumbling out before you like disjointed, dead flies. I will try to relax later and attempt to gather them should they stray off course.
Today has seen the end of a tragic two days at Gleision Colliery, near Pontardawe in the Swansea Valley, with four miners losing their lives and my deepest sympathies go out to their families and many friends who are mourning them as I sit here typing this. In fact I can almost feel the cloud of depression reach me here in the outskirts of Carmarthen (we are only 30 miles or so away from the valleys) and it is blacker outside now at 10pm than it would be on a normal 10pm.
South Wales has more than its share of mining towns and most people will have a relative or three who has worked in a colliery. (Or 'down the pits' as we like to say). My grandfather was a miner who worked for many years in the mines and when something like this happens it is like a kick in the gut for everyone, but this is where the towns spirit will come alive. Everyone will pull together and rally around those who have been affected by the events at the Cilybebyll mine today and eventhough there will be much sadness and heartache over these next weeks and months, there will also be kindness and people ready to be there for those who have lost their loved one.
Things like this always put other things into perspective, they always show others who are going through minor hassles how much of a stupid brat they are being. That frustration towards a mobile phone that ive been trying to fix by smashing in its smug, glassy face is a streak of pisz compared to what has taken place in the Swansea Valleys in these last 48 hours. I should be ashamed to have ever risen to it in the first place, stoopid dog boy that I can be! What the hell is cold tea, broken jars and Japanese electrics when put up against the dying souls of men?


In memory

I followed this heartbreaking story from the minute it broke on local Welsh news, and sat glued to the radio in deepest hope with every hour that passed. And how much worse it was for families waiting in the community center close to the awful scene.
Four families together enduring unbelievably tough hours; hearts stretched with the agony and strain of being told in the morning that one miner had been found dead, and looking to each other hoping it wasn't theirs but hoping it wasn't the others either. Six hours later being told another body has been recovered and the pain and torture relentlessy continuing, carrying on until it reached its horrendous conclusion that all four had perished. Unimaginable.
Often I looked out over the Carmarthenshire countryside outside my window and asked God to pull these men out of the mines rat black shaft but alas it was not to be.
Words will be little comfort now to those who have lost their loved one because everything is too fresh and raw and terribly painful, but in the coming months the drifts of time will fill those welts of grief. Then death will lose its sombre grip on everything, allowing memories to be visited once more without the bitter stab of loss, for not even death can hold on forever.
In loving memory of Phillip Hill, Charles Breslin, David Powell and Garry Jenkins, rest in peace my Welsh brothers. Hedd Perfaith Hedd.

**** Dim Haul Dros Gleision (No Sun Over Gleision) ****

There was no sun that day
when four miners lights went out for good;
the cave mouth stretched into an endless hymn
as hawks and kinder birds carved the sky
to guide spirits to their rest.
Heroes of an unforgiving underworld,
the earthly tomb,
kingdom of the black.
While I and all of Wales tipped hands to God
four blinded roots were pulled
and the red dragon's one lifted claw
was raised a little higher in honour of the men.
Gartref bois! Home!
From the eyeless santuary of the pit
to the Valleys call,
our father's land
where you will have the symphony of a nation's hearts
to sing you to your rest,

A bydd yr haul ddim farw nawr...
(and the sun won't die now)

@ Steven Francis poems 2011

Swing To Skin

In the news today its been reported that a lot of parents are in favour of letting the cane return to schools, and as someone who has been caned (on more than occasion) I am able to offer a first hand (no pun intended) experience of this type of corporal punishment.
I attended comrehensive school from 1981 to 1988, and corporal punishment was used freely for 6 of those years. You could be caned for any number of different offences, and they didn't have to be that serious either. (Although to be fair, if it was at the lighter end of trouble you could get lucky and be let off at the last minute). I recieved the cane ('cansen' in Welsh) on four occasions and it wasn't limited to the traditional six of the best. My 'sentences' were 4 strokes, 6 strokes, 8 strokes and 6 strokes, all over the palm of my hand. (I also recieved the 'slipper' across my behind in both junior and comprehensive but I'll stick to caning here).


Let me read your palm boy

excerpt from my story, 'Iron Abacus Oiled in Spit':
'Boy! Get in here NOW!'
'Yes sir.'
I hated standing outside the headmasters office/orang utangs lair, waiting for the cane. It was like awaiting death by electrocution, and just before the cane fell the caped clown would ask your religious denomination.
'Catholic?'
'No sir.'
Presbyterian?'
'No sir.'
'Methodist then?'
'I really couldn't say sir. Whenever I think of religion I bring bile...'
'Six of the BEST!' (Six lashes land on my palm)
And off I'd go to sting and simmer the rest of the break, and sit under a tree to immerse myself in more poetry.
(Whispers)

Don't Fan The Fantasy

Okay first let me say that I have been watching/looking at pornography since I was around 13 and im no prude who thinks its a filthy thing to be burned from existence. Indeed pornography (the normal legit type) keeps a couples relationship spiced up and promotes a very healthy sexual relationship. In short, I love porn! (And have amassed quite a vast collection on dvd *wink*)
But some men have difficulty detatching the fantasy from reality. They watch the porn where the women/men are prepared to indulge in every type of sex where no part of of the body is sacred (im trying to be as clean as possible here) and 'juices' fly onto cheeks and tongues in abundance. The performers are up for anything. (And yes! They even swallow!) And all this is fine and dandy of course, except when guys (its mostly us blokes) try to get wives and girlfriends to do the same things in the bedroom. (Or kitchen/living room/balcony/roof).


Open up and say 'Arrrgghh!'

Lets be honest here, who really has a wife that is willing to do half the stuff that happens in porno? (Put your hand down, lucky dude in the back with a nympho bride.) Would men really like to see their beloved wifey behave like a crack whore in a dark alley? I have a hunch that if those guys actually saw it they would be horrified and definately not turned on.
Yes there needs to be adventure between the bedsheets, and im all for trying new and filthy things but there has to be respect and a limit. Afterall these naughty minxes in the triple X movies are paid to behave like slutz. Of course they're up for anything! But I suspect if you saw your partner in a bukkake party you would freak the f**k out.
Like I said, every couple needs to be adventurous, I am no sexual wet sponge myself but I don't wish to dive fully into the fantasy because some lines are not meant to be crossed, and those who have dared have paid a very high price with relationships shattering like a million a*al beads. My motto is ~ Im up for anything but everything. Have fun!

Kidney Foil

Unbreakable

I have always thought of the kidneys as hard as nail powerhouses; unpenetrable, a mighty shell able to shatters fists, fevers and poisons like they were made from feathers. Strange isn't it? With my diet and lifestyle I often fear for my heart and liver but I never once spare a thought for my kidneys. I believe them to be all powerful, with the abilty to resist anything I throw at them.
Look at the picture above. Okay I'll admit those are lambs kidneys but the photo captures the organs perfectly; shining and hard, defiant in both colour and texture. If I were a poison I would think twice of taking those 'guys' on.

Ten Times As Big As A Man

The King in a cartoon

I thought I had imagined it, stirred up the soundtrack and photos from some wild childhood fever hallucination, but no! The King Kong cartoon series did actually exist and heres a picture from one of the adverts to prove it. A lot of folk that ive asked about this have given me blank stares but a trawl through the interwebz has brought forth fruit! The show was made in 1966 and followed the adventures of King Kong as he befriends the Bond family, and helps save the world from other giant creatures and robots.
What I remembered most about this show was the soundtrack which had a thundering chorus with the words "King Kong! Ten times as big as a man!", and was quite heavy for an animated childrens series. (You can probably find it easily on Youtube).
It was on when I was a child in the late 70's and early 80's, along with the Godzilla/Godzookie cartoon but most only recall the lizards show. Im glad I did a little cyber digging if only to prove to myself I hadn't made the whole thing up.

The Quiet Building

No too far from me in Carmarthen town there is a building with the word Freemasons carved into the stone above the door. I have never seen anyone go in or come out of it. The pub nextdoor is always full of life but this building just stands next to it, eerily quiet.
Everytime I pass I imagine shadowy people inside holding seances and designing UFOs, or plotting something sinster to unleash on the land. Nonsense of course but a terrifying reality in my over active mind where nothing is as it seems. And the complete differences between the pub and the Freemasons helps to enforce the belief that some kind of supernatural machinery is going on behind the doors of the Masons; the tavern filled with beer bellied drinkers and live sports on the big screen, laughter and shouts of joy or frustration bouncing off the walls. While nextdoor the Freemasons buildings sits in perfect silence like it is waiting for something unknown to mortal man.

To Bethena

I missed your love and kindness,
your soul of souls,
but beauty with its assorted delinquents and trinkets
never fades or wilts,
and 'tho I nest amongst adders in the dawn
I am at the gentle mercy of you always.
Those eyes, that smile,
a face which had all the answers
and hangs forever, a portrait in my chest.
Oh to have known you darling Bethena!
To have held your hand
and walked with you, both poets on fire,
a furious blaze all together smothering the page.

I gaze into your eyes, those chessnut pools
and know what might have been
is happening now in the emerald garden
where your delicate touch is freezing the furies.
Bethena! Gone before your time
but time itself will be your tribute
as those you Love remember you,
and this ode, testament of your inspiration
which reshaped the horizons of a distant hand.
Oh to have known you!
But content am I to know that you live on,
triumphed over crocodiles
and sending Love in butterflies...

@ Steven Francis poems 2010

The Art of F King

Friends with benefits. F**k buddies. We all know what it means ~ a friend to have casual sex with. No strings attached. Just fire off a text, 'meet 6pm in shed/bedroom/alley' then wham, do the deed and be on your way. Can it really be as simple as that? As human beings saddled with with emotions and all the headfuckery they contain, can two people get together to blow some steam, sweat a little (or a lot) then leave it at that? Well as much as I would like to be the worlds megaphone and speak for everyone, I can only speak from my experience and in that experience I say that we can. Without a doubt. Its easy. Ive done it myself, and on more than one occasion and with more than one woman. (Although sadly only one woman at a time).
Without going into too much detail (I know, a killjoy right?) one woman was a friend and had been for years, while the other two were ladies I had met via a text 'dating' service. (For 'dating' see 'one night stand'). And as long as both parties know at the beginning to leave all emotion at the foot of the bed, having a f**k buddy is pretty swell and not just for the obvious reason. Should you happen to be friends as I was with my first, it adds another layer to that friendship and the trust that develops is immense. It feels almost like being bonded by blood and can feel as close as you would with a family member, without the sexuality obviously.
Its intimate but without the chaos of love. Some people wonder if the sex is hollow when it is ONLY sex but these are the sort who shouldn't be thinking about getting involved. Questions are best left with emotion at the foot of the bed. Of course humans are complicated creatures but in that complexity we are able to find reason and answers and some of us CAN exist on pure sex; sex without the gravy. I developed no sense of 'belonging' to the women I had this sort of relationship with. We knew from the start what we wanted and what we only wanted. The jingling heart shaped bells and holding hands nonsense were left like empty crisp packets on a pub floor.
This all makes me sound like a Great White shark, ploughing through lusty waters for women to ravage, without a care for emotion but nothing could be further from the truth. I enjoy Love and being in Love with all of its fanfares and sickly scented dramas, but the L word has no buisness between f**k friends. Love and sex are beautiful when combined make no mistake, but sex is more than able to exist alone outside of the fluffy confines of 'I do's'.
Sure I hear the doubters and holier-than-thou mobs calling it nothing more than whoring around. They believe it to be two morally tainted people getting their kicks from sin and their offense rings through my ear drums like so many boiling lobsters. But they are wrong and ignorant. Where is the sin? Where is the burning in hell of two friends getting it on and banging away without any commitment? Nobody is being hurt or cheated on, there is no design for harm and mischief. And to be perfectly blunt, if I meet a woman for some fun and we both get what we want out of the back alley party then you can stick your morals under the grill, toast them, butter them with a dollop of envy and bon apetit! I find it perfectly foul when some folk feel the need to interfere and pass comment (or worse, judgement) on others lives. As I say, its envy. Some of us LIVE life, others don't. Or can't.