About Arcane Cognition

I write what i see. I write what I know. I write what I feel. I do not write what i think.

It Could Happen…

                                                          P.P.R.
     In 1984 in the state of Tennessee, the country’s first privatized jail was born. Since its induction many have asked “Was it worth it?” When the economy began to tank, states turned to privatize jails for their overflow.
    “Human rights groups were constantly up in arms over the treatment of the prisoners.”, said Officer Deardly. “Prison costs were beginning to skyrocket, and the state funds were dwindling. Privatized jails were a perfect solution.”
    Rioting has become a thing of the past. These new privatize jails are equipped with state of the art surveillance and restraint technologies. Pipes equipped to seep nontoxic sleeping gas run throughout the main hallways. The Gas System is installed in all major rooms in the prison.
    When a riot is being detected by the surveillance cameras, disabling nerve gas is pumped through the pipes into the room disabling all prisoners. The system is mostly automated, however guards still monitor the cameras.
    Many human rights activists have petitioned for the closure of many of the country’s privatized jails. Many of the claims lodged in the past have been dismissed. Courts generally rule in favor of the privatized jails, citing laws that protect private companies. However, most of the complaints being lodged now are accusing the privatize jails of becoming forced labor camps.
    At Browning jail, in Texas, prisoners work as farm and ranch hands. The general population in Browning jail seem to be well adjusted. They eat three healthy meals a day, that they had a hand in personally growing. Browning jail started off with one small carrot patch and a couple of sheep. They now plant and harvest enough food to sustain the entire prison from both the ranch and farm.
    While at Browning we met inmate #963056, he was transferred here on a life sentence the day the doors opened at Browning. He knows all the history of this prison and all the ins and outs of daily life on the inside. After his shift at the slaughterhouse we got a chance to speak to him.
    “I’m in for life.” Gregory Sazo Inmate #963056 stated with a smile on his face. “I tell you when they introduced the fact that we could have bacon for breakfast in the mornings. This place lit up! I mean you had inmates whoopin and a’hollerin. Spirits was real high. Then they found out that someone has to slaughter them hogs, and they wasn’t so happy. So many of us seen so much killin’ already, and to know… To know that hog had to die so you could eat some bacon. Well that really brought it home for some of the boys here. Yeah but, not me. And not some of the country folk. It was brought up to the warden, to stop the slaughter of innocence. In the end we ended up killing a lot less hogs, simply because the other inmates wont eat it. They like that with the cows too, and the sheep. So they started shearing the sheep and selling them off for profit.”
    While many privatized jails are touting success stories like Browning, the less talked about prisons are the ones housing the criminally insane. These privatized jail systems treat their inmates like science experiments.
    After trial, psychopaths are loaded up and put in a one room cell, with cameras watching their every move. There are multiple microphones as well, to capture every sound they make. Every angle of the room is covered. They lose their right to any kind of privacy when they committed heinous murder.
    They are given no human contact, meals come in mechanical dumbwaiters to their cell. When the criminal messes up the food mechanism, the room is flooded with sleeping gas so a crew can come in. The criminal will be sedated a second time after they are secured in a straightjacket. Then the inmate is moved to a second room and left there while repairs are being done. The criminals will often awaken during this process, while in the new room. Alone and in a straight jacket, strapped to a gurney. The inmate will be gassed a second time and moved backed into the original cell after the work is completed.
    On occasion a repair will take several days, in which the criminal is normally gassed unconscious and hooked up to an iv and urinary catheter. Every once in a while they will get a criminal who continually destroys the food dispenser and is allowed to starve to death.
    They are studied like rats in a cage, twenty four hours a day everyday. Their every word read, their every drawing psychologically evaluated. They are sometimes rewarded for compliance and good behavior. Sometimes one will be given a room with a window that overlooks a grassy endless field. Another will get a television to control and watch. These too are just so they can be studied in a more relaxed environment. They want to know what makes these monsters to society tick.

Indigo

    Indigo Shyloh had been an ugly duckling all her life. In elementary school she was picked on because she had a big nose and ears. When she got to middle school she not only had a big nose, and big ears, she was also taller than everyone else. She turned to her studies and turned her back on a society that did not accept her.
   She always made the best grades, no student could match her on any level. She refused to compete in academic competitions, because of her looks. Winners always appear with their picture in the paper, for all the world to see. She always shied from the camera when someone was taking pictures in the room. The family photo album generally had her peeking out from behind an elbow or obscured in the back behind everyone else. She always did her best to hide or blend in, she never wanted to be noticed.
   When Indigo entered high school her heart fell to an all time low. She watched the pretty girls, with the beautiful faces, all get date after date. They always had their choice of the boys of the school. The boys flocked to these girls, as if they had some sort of invisible power over them. It hurt her to watch, she cried herself to sleep at night. Why couldn’t it be her?
   She began to notice the shapes of the girls faces and taking notes to herself of what she would have changed, if she could. By her junior year she had a plan in her head of what she was going to do with her life.
   She would work really hard and save all her money, then research plastic surgeons. She would make herself look like one of them.
   The years passed, Indigo finished college and a job in a corporate office. Day in and day out she did her job efficiently and without problem. She never complained to anyone, and she never asked for anyone’s help. In her spare time she researched doctors, and she saved every extra penny she made.
   Finally she had the money she needed to get everything done. She’d made sure she’d saved enough for the two years it would take of recuperation down time, when she would be unable to work between procedures. She quit her job, there was no farewell cake or party for her. Indigo had no friends.
   Four years later Indigo Shyloh was a completely different person.

Isabelle

    Awoken by a noise Isabelle quickly grabbed her dressing gown.  The autumn night air had a crisp chill.  The wood so cold under her naked feet she felt the urgency to sprint.  Isabelle came closer to where she heard the muffled noises.  She entered the stairway and stood face to face with a stranger.
     His hair was the color of spun gold, it fell limp and straight against his pale face.  His cheeks were slightly sunken in, as were his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in a few days.  It seemed her visitor hadn’t seen the sun in many seasons.
     Thomas stopped dead in his tracks as he stared into the eyes of his would be victim.  He felt the breath inside still, as his muscles froze as if encased in ice.   His gaze could not be moved, he could not even will it so.  Still the thought raced in his mind, fueling his desire to escape.
     Isabelle’s shock was soon turned to factorization.  This poor man needed shelter and sleep.  Her new thoughts were cut abruptly off before they could take root.
     Thomas could barely muster the breath to speak.  He knew to stay here would mean death, to explain himself.
     “I am held captive by your stare.  Look away.”  His voice was so calm and void of emotion. Yet his words spoke to her like a siren song, ‘You are stunningly beautiful.’  The verse his tone rung out, ‘I would know as I have seen many beauties.’
     She had never before thought of herself as anything but ordinary.  Plain, they always called her.  Now here stood a stranger in her house claiming otherwise.  Isabelle was drawn in.
     Thomas saw the pleasure crossing her face.  He knew with her new found power she could have him arrested.  In jail in less than two hours time.  He was sorry for ever coming here, sorry for glancing upon her face.  He could walk away, if he could find it in himself to walk away.
     “I am held prisoner by your glance. Avert your eyes.”  He asserted in a firmer tone as he took a step closer to her.  It was as far as he could muster his body to move.
     Isabelle felt her cheeks flush red and hot as he approached her.
     He glanced down upon her, upon her blushing cheeks.  Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps she wanted him.  He so undesirable, detestable, hated.  Yet there it stood evident, love in the world.  His face took an almost puzzled glance, as if thinking how to best proceed.
     Isabelle’s cheeks deepened red, she felt almost as if they were a-flame.  Quickly she averted her eyes to his chest.  The realization of what was about to transpire took over her mind.  She would never again gaze into this strangers light green eyes.  She felt a sudden sadness at the thought of his permanent absence from her life.
     The wheels in Thomas mind began to spin quickly, as he watched her cheeks return to their normal pallor.  He stepped full well out of her line of sight.  He had the power to control her emotions, a very odd sensation to him.  A sensation he intended to take full advantage of.
     “I may return to visit the blush upon your cheek.” he offered watching to see if he had hit his mark.
     Indeed he had.  Isabelle’s cheeks flushed an instant gratuitous shade of ruby.  Finer than any jewel he had yet to heist.  Without a moments hesitation more, he rushed down the corridor and off the estate.

The Hauntch Shop

The Intro

 

     Hi, my name is Julia, and I run a Hauntch Store. Before we go any further, yes little giggling children call my store all the time asking if I’ve seen their bare haunches on display in my windows. But this is not a Haunch store, this is a Hauntch Store. I know what you’re thinking, so what is a hauntch? And that’s exactly what I was asking myself just two months ago.
     “Miss Julia Deardhorn?”, an aging rounded man held out his hand towards me. “I am Albert Finkenstankle, your great aunt Gileda Deardhorn’s solicitor. That is to say, I’ve called you here for the reading of the will.” His white bristly sideburns were almost standing on ends as he leaned backwards and motioned towards the door. “Of course,” he continued as I walked towards the doorway. “There is only you and Tabitha.”
     As I reached the doorway and glanced in, there was a small room lined with bookcases. The bookcases were filled with stacks of paperwork and old law volumes. In the center was a dark, heavy, wooden desk. The desk cluttered from every angle with paperwork, and small objects meant as paper weights. To either side of the desk sat worn comfortable red leather chairs. I noticed to the right, glancing up at me with great curiosity, a slender orange tabby cat. She resumed her curled up position as Mr. Finkenstankle pushed past me.
     “Please do sit down.” he motioned to the empty chair as he shuffled through papers. “And so it was.”, he pulled out a stack of papers and begin to read through them. “On the passing of Gileda Wastborn Deardhorn, the whole of her estate and store front property on the dock is to be shared equally between her long time companion and friend Tabitha Wilkinson.” He paused motioning to the cat. “And her surviving niece, the last of the blood line, Julia Grace Deardhorn.” he did not look up but continued to go on.
     While legal terms flew above my head and out of my mind, I glanced at the cat. She rose her head up a bit glancing at me, and winked.
     As she laid her head back down I was pondering how many times I had ever seen a cat wink. My thoughts were interrupted by Finkenstankle clearing his throat.
     “And do you have any questions, before I take you out to see said properties?” he watched me.
     “You said I had a store on the docks?”
     “Yes, quite. The Hauntch Store.”
     “What exactly is a hauntch?” I interrupted.
     “I, umm, err…” Mr. Finkenstankle began fumbling for words. Upon clearing his throat he continued, “Well you are aware of how eccentric your great aunt was?”
     I replied flatly, “I was not aware, of any such thing.”
     Finkenstankle fumbled for words again, then figured out what to do. “Perhaps it’s best, if I just show you.”
     We pulled up to the first row of many one story wooden shacks. They started off with one row facing a pier, then each row sat behind it. The front of one building was the back of another, unless you had waterfront property. Finkenstankle assured me that the most desired property was the waterfront one.
     The structure sat on a foundation of creaking old wood, that literally faced out openly to the water. There was no guard railing at all, however in diffrent places there were spots to tie up a boat. There was unfortuntaly, no place to tie up a boat near my store. Mine was Sixteen Seventy Three, which looked like Sixteen Seventy Four, and exactly like Sixteen Seventy Five. It looked just like all the Sixteen Seventies that I saw, actually. Old, weather-worn, wooden planks made up the exterior walls. A single, rusty, metal roof connected all the buildings together. Each store had it’s own small window, the size of an adult face. There was a solid wooden door for each front entrance.
     “There’s no signs on these doors.” I remarked.
     Mr. Finkenstankle wasn’t feeling chatty anymore.
     As I glanced over at him, I noticed he was shaking slightly. A small look of fear was present in his eyes as he stared into the vacant window. Then he quickly pulled the keys out his pocket and thrust them into my hands. “I have an urgent matter I must attend to, urgently.” He excused himself suddenly and began to almost trot away.
     “How odd.” I muttered, as I watched the back of him now sprinting out of sight. I grabbed the golden brass door knob, and paused. This doorknob looked brand new, there wasn’t even a smudge on it besides mine. The first two keys didn’t work, but the third one let me in.

You

You tell me things no one else can say,
You tell me you want me to be this way.
You show me sights of delightful surprise,
You show me the love hidden in your eyes.
You promise me a bright new life,
You swear to me I am your wife.
You say that there can be no escape,
You tell me that this is my fate.
You tell me I’m welcome to try,
Any escape that catches my eye.
You want to wrap me in fine jewelry,
Hug me, love me, watch me, do me.
You know me like no other can,
You read my mind and hold my hand.
You show me things that others would swoon,
You profess your love upon the moon.
And any other woman would subside,
On your romantic ride.
Castles, flowers, symphonies, chorus,
Candy, confetti, oh how you adore us.
You show me how others can be unfaithful,
You show how you can turn the table.
You tell me there could be only one,
To hold me at night and pray for the sun.
You show me your fire burning bright,
I feel passion all through the night.
You show me these things I will never see,
Because you are not standing in front of me.
2-10-98

Would You

If I spoke of love so true,
And dimmed the lights for me and you,
If I wrote words to cheer your heart,
And I swore we would never part…
If I continued though you begged me to stop,
And I held you while in the tide we’re caught,
If I kissed away your tears,
And swore to stand here through the years…
If I spoke my heart to yours,
And my desires more than you endure,
If I whispered softly in your ear,
And my words seemed muddled and unclear…
If I glassed your eyes over…
If I made your heart skip a beat…
If I made your breath stop for just a second…
And you thought you would never be the same.
Would you do the same for me?
If you spoke words of love so true,
Dimmed the lights for me and you.
If you wrote words to cheer my heart,
Swear to me we would never part.
If you continued though I begged for you to stop,
And held me while in the tide I’m caught.
If you kissed away my tears,
Stood beside me for all the years.
If you spoke your heart to mine,
Desired me till I was blind.
If you whispered softly in my ear,
Until your words became unclear.
Would my heart skip a beat?
Would I too become weak?
9-24-01

Why Must?

I sat in the rain and watched it play,
Down my solemn window pane.
And through the rhythm, i reached for your hand,
But you took solitude, away have you ran.
I did but just once wish to feel some compassion,
To stand at your side, not alone.
And you turned me away for the fields of passion,
So to my silence condone…
Why, when i long to trust,
Must everything turn to lust?
I wanted to hold you, to feel you anew,
I wanted to cuddle, til the morning dew.
But to be so close, is not a must,
Must everything be torn from us?
Should i cry before i wake,
Or try to make another date?
Is all you see, my skin surround,
Do you even care if i’m not around?
Why, when i long to trust,
Must everything turn to lust?
I long for the warmth of an embrace,
I want of life more than i can taste.
But you push me aside with waves of want,
My emotions died, to countless to flaunt.
And though i may live another day,
And though my life may seem to stay,
And though my heart sinks into the abyss,
And i know not how much more i can take of this.
Why, when i long to trust,
Must everything turn to lust?
12-1-2001

Where I Am

The thunder roar, the lightning crash,
How much longer will the candle last?
I glance outside my window pane,
At the grey sheeted rain.
It is so cold during these damp days,
The wood so wet that it wont blaze.
I stay here shut up in this room,
For in the Darkness no Flowers bloom.
1-23-98

Where Are You Now

There was a place in my heart
Where you made your start
Deep inside it’s seams
Lovers in our dreams

There’s a hole in my soul
I could never let you go
Never could forget
The tears that I wept

Where are you now, Your love’s so far away
Where are you now, Why couldn’t you just stay
Don’t you realize, There is no one but you
Don’t you realize, My love was always true

There’s something missin in my life
Come back and make it right
I don’t understand
What’s in anothers hand?

You’re lost within my dreams
I’m lost without you it seems
Why can’t I be like them
Cast you off on a whim

Where are you now, Your love’s so far away
Where are you now, Why couldn’t you just stay
Don’t you realize, There is no one but you
Don’t you realize, My love was always true

 

1996

War

I was standing on firm ground before it did shake,
I was watching your moves until it was too late.
A counter attack, a swipe clean to my heart,
Did you ever imagine the War you would start.

A trickle of blood to relieve my pain,
There’s no antidote for this deadly bane.
You say there’s no difference between love and hate,
Toss fire on my life, then turn…  Checkmate.

Now I pray for death, without a sound,
I’m no longer standing on sacred ground.
I’m battle-worn, I just want to kill,
For the War once started, I will still.

Then in rumbled debris, I will start a new,
Til I see your shadow in the morning dew.
And stand on the ground, until it does shake,
Watching your moves, until it’s too late.

2-4-97