The Silver Birdcage

Once upon a time, there lived a Demon named Bok. Bok was a mischievous demon, and everywhere he went he caused trouble. Bok was also a very greedy demon, and one day he set out into the world to see what he may gain from it.
Bok came across a witch that lived in a magical forest. She possessed a great treasure, a golden birdcage. He did not know what the birdcage did, but he knew that it possessed great powers. He very much wanted it for his own.
He waited in the deep woods hidden by the dark trees that were as black as he, until the old witch fell asleep. Then he went into her house and sprinkled dust upon her so she would sleep even deeper and took the golden birdcage right from her very arms.
The next day Bok was making a fire and looking at the cage. He was wondering what made it so very powerful when along came a toad. Bok was very proud that he had stole the cage from the witch and told the toad what he had done.
"May I see the birdcage?" asked the frog.
"Certainly!” Bok replied.
The frog looked at the cage and played with it for awhile. Finally he did something Bok had not done before. He opened the cage door. A glistening mist of green came out from the frog and went into the cage. Then the door of the golden birdcage shut tight!
"My goodness, what was that?" asked the frog.
" I haven’t the slightest clue" said Bok.
"Well never-mind then, I best be on my way" said the frog and he put the cage down and begin to hop away. To his surprise, he could not hop at all!
"That’s very strange” said the Frog. “I cant seem to jump any longer. Why, I am the best jumper in the whole kingdom! yet somehow now I cannot even so much as hop!"
It was then Bok realized. The golden birdcage had stolen from the frog the best thing there was about a frog, his hop. “Aha” Bok said to himself “The cage is capable of stealing the greatest thing about anyone that dared opened its beautiful golden doors! How wondrous!”
Bok could see the mist of the frogs hop in between the bars of the cage and he quickly opened the doors again and out came the frogs hop and landed right on Bok’s chest! Bok was gifted the frogs hop, and Bok hopped away as fast as he could before the frog could catch him!
"Why" Bok thought, "with this cage I could steal the skills and talents of all the best of the townspeople! and then when my cage is full, open it myself. I shall be the best at everything and no one will catch or try to stop me then! look I am already the best jumper! I shall take this into the town and look for the very best of people and steal from them the best they have to offer!"
And Bok did just that. He entered the town under a disguise and one by one stole the very best of the townspeople. He stole the skill to shoot a bow and arrow from the best arch man, and the ability to write and speak beautifully from the poet. He even stole the town jesters juggling skills! He stole the bravery of a knight, The wisdom of a scholar and the strength of the towns strongest axmen.
His cage was becoming more full and he knew it was only a matter of time before it was filled and thought carefully as to what he may fill the rest of the cage with. Bok then thought this town had done him as much good as it possibly could. He had taken all the best from its people. Then he thought, what good were all these skills without the power to rule over a kingdom? why not steal the royalty and riches of a prince? or better yet, a king! and he set off to the kingdom to find the king.
Now, in the next kingdom over lived a Boy, strong in heart and pure love. The love he possessed was in its greatest form for the princess, the young daughter of the powerful and rich king. Lo, no peasant no matter how big his heart would ever be able to marry a princess. But, the boy remained strong and true in pure love for her. The princess of the kingdom was known as the "ICE PRINCESS" for she was mean and heartless and never returned the love of the boy or any of her subjects. Her father, the king, was equally heartless and they shared no love for each other or the people of their kingdom, who lived in sadness under their rule.
Night after night the peasant would profess his love for the princess and night after night she would demonstrate a terrible cruelness towards him.
The boy in his great sadness was walking through the forest one night and came across Bok, sleeping by the fire, the golden birdcage by his side. the sight of Bok frightened the boy, but the golden birdcage was beautiful. He went quietly over to it and picked up to get a closer look. Inside he could see the many different beautiful glowing colors, unaware they were the greatest attributes captured. He was very curious to see the colors closer and opened its doors. The cage glowed and took from the boy his love for the princess , as that was his greatest strength. Its doors snapped shut and to his surprise the cage now gleamed a remarkable shiny silver instead of gold. The cage was now filled.
"What have you done!" Bok shouted, the sound of the doors snapping had awoke him.
"I was saving the last of the cages power for the royalty of the king! Now it is filled with love! BAH!" Bok took the cage from the boy and ran deep into the woods away from the fire leaving the boy for the first time in his life, without love in his heart for the princess and alone in the darkness of the surrounding wood.
The boy sat, feeling nothing and though "OH! this is wonderful! so much better then my heartache before! Now I may think clearly" he sat there thinking logically and not in love for the first time in his life, and set out again to find the demon Bok. Having found him he asked "what do you want most in this world, the skills you have gathered in this cage or the power to rule over a mighty kingdom?" Bok thought about it and answered " The power to rule over a mighty kingdom", Then the boy whispered his plan to the angry demon so that even the trees could not hear them and inform the king of what awaited him at sunrise.
The very next day Bok and the boy entered the kingdom, with promise to show the king and his heartless daughter a very powerful treasure.
"Behold!" said the boy, here we have found amongst the forest a magical treasure, whoever shall open it shall be gifted the greatest of talents and skill, strength, wisdom and power!"
Knowing the king would be greedy but suspicious, he first suggested his daughter open the cage least any harm should come to him, and being heartless, did not mind if his daughter was sacrificed in the event that the cage bring harm to the one who opened it. She being as greedy as a demon snatched up the cage and opened it without a second thought and out rushed all the talents it had been holding. Wisdom, strength, and bravely all rushed out and the princess was granted all of them. Lastly, the love the boy had for the princess was cast upon her and she felt for the first time in her life what it was like to love. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she exclaimed "Oh father! it truly is magical!" the doors of the cage closed. Empty again, it turned to gold.
With no knowledge the cage was now empty and seeing the power it gifted his daughter the king took the cage from her arms and opened its door yet again. Then his royalty, riches and all the power he possessed left the king and entered into the cage. The king sat speechless not knowing what had happened and quicker then lightning Bok took the cage from his arms. "Wait! said the boy "let me hold the cage for you and point it toward you as I open it! you wouldn’t want any royalty to spill away in your hastiness!"
"You are right!" exclaimed Bok and he handed the cage to the boy. But instead of pointing it towards Bok he pointed it towards himself and opened the cage so that he instead of the demon would be granted the power to rule over all.
The boy then banished the Demon Bok, and the ruthless man who use to be king. The princess now with all gifts granted to her, including that of love, begged the new king to let her stay and love her as he had loved her all the years before, for now, she finally loved him.
"You may go as well princess. My love for the kingdom and its people is strong, as that love came second to the love I had for you. Alas now my love for you has gone."
All three then left the kingdom never to be heard from again, and the new good king reigned in prosperity.

The Songs Of Sunlight

Once upon a time there lived a lonely young owl. She grew up in the woods surrounded by a beautiful land that was known for magical sunrises. With the break of every day, Owl would hoot and beg for her parents to let her stay awake so she too may see the golden dawn, but alas her parents would usher her into the tree and whisper “Good-day young owl, sleep as the night awaits“.
As she slept, owl would hear the birds sing outside her tree. Their song was happy, and she could smell grass and blooming flowers through the cold dark wood that cradled her day. She would dream that she were singing with them, graceful and kind, the sunlight warming her face. She dreamt she could fly among the light with golden rays and the love of friends swimming all about her.
When night approached owl would be permitted to leave the tree once more, and go out among the night to sing. By that time, all the birds of day were gone. Owl would sit on her branch, cold and alone and hoot. “Hoo-ooo….Hoo--ooo” owl would call out to anyone who could hear. But no birds every responded to her song.
One night Owl asked her parents why must she sit and sing alone, with only darkness surrounding her, never to see the light.
“The owl is a night creature my dear” her mother would say “and an ALONE one…we do not sing during the day, and we do not sing with other birds, this is our nature”.
Night came and went. Each day Owl ached more and more for the songs of sunlight. One night, as Owl sat on her branch, singing alone, she decided to fly away to search for a land where it was never night, and where all the birds could sing together.
Owl flew far away, but everywhere she went, she learned that the sun rose, as it did set. Every time the sun set, she retreated into a tree to sleep and dream alone.
One night, after a long night of crying on her branch, Owl saw the sun begin to rise. She turned her back to the light and proceeded to walk into the tree when she heard the sound of something small land on the wood behind her. Owl turned with a start.
“WHOOOO are you?” Owl asked.
“ Who me? Oh I am just a bird” a little sparrow answered. “Where are you going?” the sparrow asked, tilting her head left to right in curiosity.
“I am going into my tree” Owl responded. “I have searched long for a land where the night did not live, and it would always be day so I may feel warmth, and sing the songs of sunlight with the other birds, such as yourself, but I have found that none exists.”
“Of course not silly!” the little bird peeped. “Everywhere you go you are going to find night! Just as you are going to find day!”
“I know” Owl said, “That is why I am sad…Good-day to you” Owl said to the sparrow and begin to walk away.
“But Owl!” the bird said, “Day and night are choices. When I landed on your branch I saw you turn away from the sunrise to go into the tree. So you see, The day is not turning its back on you, you are turning your back on the day.”
“I am?” said the owl
“You are” said the little sparrow.
The bird turned around “See there?” She said pointing towards the sky “The sun still rises, and it is always going to rise no matter where you go. The land you have been searching for has been with you all along. It is right here. Why don’t you watch it with me…and sing”
Owl looked into the distance and squinted her eyes, Gold rays dawned upon her face and both sunlight and tears of joy washed down upon her.
That dawn, and many dawns after, Owl saw the sunrise and the sunset. Owl learned her nature was not what she was born into, but the happiness that became her. She no longer flew by night but lived among the day singing the songs of sunlight, happier then any owl could have dared dream to be. Every night before she went to sleep as the stars begin to rise, Owl would look at them dearly and as she closed her eyes, would whisper…
“Good night young owl, sleep as the day awaits.”

Learning To Fly

I am listening to the music I have written over the years. It is so beautiful….I am so beautiful. It makes me really sad I have allowed so many peoples negative opinions penetrate that belief in myself over the years. To turn inward what should have been expressed and celebrated as beauty, talent, and love. I have let that be my excuse for a very long time. I have let the pain, the insecurity, the doubt…win.
I am not alone in this. I know and have seen so many who let their current lives, relationships, jobs, parents, and other people opinions rule them. Shame on these people. These black souls who take the light they see in others and suck it out like psychic vampires. Because THEY are dark. Because THEY are alone. Because THEY are sad. The souls who live in light allow the Dark ones among them, and in their lives out of sympathy and a want to help them, and what do they do? bleed them dry. A vampire is a vampire. They need another, depend on another as their life source. Do not be a vampire. Be your own life source.
I have waited. For years. For someone to make me feel good about myself. To validate my existence. To appreciate me. To see me. To look and me and say “ YES…You are good”. That is all I ever really wanted. A prince maybe…to rescue me. I am not the first to wait for the one. But no one is ever going to. So I am going to rescue myself. Be my own knight. Ride away from the castle and never look back.
Belief in myself did not come without a price. I need my suffering to be over. I need the wait…to be over.
Everyone gets to a point, they need to make a decision. They could either let their past pain, hurt and circumstances, win…or they could take back the reigns, change direction and laugh into the wind. So that is what I am going to do. I am leaving it all behind. I am forgiving everything. Its like learning to live again, or in my case…fly.

"CORRODED"

Octo was in a state of complete self-loathing. It seemed to him, for many months now he was a burden to his family. Yes, a burden, even to them. He ate little and slept through night into day. Every time he looked out his window, made of continuous rainfall, he remembered why he wanted it just that way. So that he alone could always see the world in its eternal maelstrom.
It was more appropriate then ever today. Poor octo would press his tear soaked cheek to the glass and wish to disappear.
His rabbit C.C. would sniff curiously at his weighted heels and look up to him. Through his little oxygen mask, he would breath and glare.
“ What’s wrong with my parent today? What ails him so?” Octo could not answer but go back to bed, and sleep the day away.
He awoke again at noon. His brothers were having fun. Vaughn had captured Emmett again. And they were bickering through the barred walls of Emmett’s cage.
“I have just had it this time!” shouted Vaughn “One slug bug is too many! And they are mine you hear! MINE! You an that wretched Rubella have savored the last of my friends!”
“Yours?!” spat back Emmett “I practically breed them! They come from MY Mine, while you live in your fancy quarters I am exiled to the south wing in all its Corroded glory! Poor Vaughn must eat Venison every night! Well what do you think I have to eat?!”
Octo glided in quietly behind them and watched. His presence went unnoticed, as it often did, until he spoke in his silent and loving manner.
“Vaughn? Emmett is hungry and there is so much deer on the grounds, we could share some most certainly”
The captor and captive stopped their cold war and looked his way. Vaughn in astonished disgust. Emmett at the sight of Octo’s state of teary disarray laughed manically in his face.
“My, even Emmett, who is trapped in a cage is laughing at me” thought poor Octo.
This infuriated him quiet a bit and he grew angry.
“What are you laughing at?! Maniac! Your trapped, Vaughn finally caught you and will probably never let you out! He’ll starve you for eating his pets! That’s what he’ll do!” he stammered.
Emmett Continued to laugh “Ehehehehehe! Oh! I will get out of my cage! I’ll get out! ehehehe but you, you will never get out of YOURS! Eheheheehe!”
Emmett was always disturbingly perceptive.
Defeated and nauseated with fury and sadness Octo returned to his study and slammed the door. He slumped against it and slide down to the floor. Tears swelled silently in his enormous black eyes. No sooner were two shed then a tremendous crash was heard. Emmett had indeed broken free of his cage and he and Vaughn now ran down the hall in maniacal laughter and shouting after one another. Surely destroying the mansion walls along the way.
“I am a joke” Octo thought. “even to my brothers…No one cares to even look my way, Nor will she whom I love return anything….close to love. It is not working…but…” He begin to cry louder “ I’ve tried so very hard. I’ve tried…” trailing off he looked down now to C.C who crept onto his lap. He pet the barely breathing creature. C.C. Licked him through his mask and Octo played with the tubes that attached to his little oxygen tank.
“I’m going now, do you want to come with me C.C?”
The bunny would breath and glare, looking up to his parent and wonder “why?”
Octo went to his desk and retrieved his rice paper and a pen and wrote;

I have thought often of this day. I always imagined something would indeed send me away, as in a final hurrah! of pain. But that is just it you see, today was a day like all the others. Today no one looked at me and smiled, or reached to stoke away some tears. No one spoke nicely to me or asked me how I felt. I Know the mines have changed us all. And coming to live in this house was a mistake. It is not to late for anyone but myself. I know with Vaughn and Emmett’s genius minds, together, you can find a cure for this…malformation that we have become. If only you could work together, as once we all did. Even if to stuff a squirrel or two. Remember those day? I do.

I go, breath spent and dying
Into the world next
In which I hope will not await me
With the pain and the suffering
I have sustained here
At the hands
Of those I love



Octo put down his pen and went towards his closet, stopping first at the window of rain. For once he thought to turn it off, end the glamour that trickled down its glass. He wondered if he did, would he see the sun? Or would there be darkness and rain still? Perhaps, he thought, if the sun were shining, feeling the warmth on his face would dry his tears. He waved his hand over the window. The glamour sizzled and seized but no sunshine awaited him. It was raining outside. The window was no different.
In his closet he gathered the rope and tied it around the high beam of his study. He kissed C.C goodbye and made his noose. He faced the chair toward the massive window. For the first and last time he saw the real rain fall. He Spoke;

“Illusion or reality, My world has stayed the same,
I was nothing to anyone…anyway. I fall now with the rain”

Octo kicked the chair out from under him and hung. The noose tightened around his neck and he was paralyzed with fear and choking. He hung there gasping for air as the body instinctively will do, whether the heart wants air or not. He soon calmed to the point where death was accepted and eyes bulging, took his last glance out into the world.
Then silence. Blackness. A crack and a fall. He lay breathing again on the floor. His thoughts in time grew clear and he realized the beam had broken. The beam had broken because Vaughn must have known what he was going to do…No…the beam had broken because Vaughn had sawn it through. It was another trap set for Emmett who was known to spy on them by crawling through the ceiling like the toxic rat he had become.
No one knew he lay there, No one cared what the thunderous crash was. He lay on the floor in silence, save for the rainfall. The real rainfall. Then he heard a crinkling of paper. C.C was eating his suicide note.

An Article on Gothic parenting.

“BE GOTH…..OR ELSE”


By: Dani Alienna


We are seeing a new era of the rebel. They dress in jeans and plain tee shirts. They go to school, do their homework and hang out with their friends. Their rooms are painted white and they stick to their summer reading lists. Nothing about them screams danger, beware, or run, They are children of Goths….
The first time I ever laid eyes on a “Goth” I was strangely enough at the beach. It was in Point Pleasant N.J. My family rented out a summer home there every year and it was there upon the boardwalk a group of Goth kids would hang about on a bench. Everyone was terrified of them. They stirred up mixed emotions in the passing sun-tanned wholesome families night after night. Fear, anger, hatred, lust. I was enthralled. I loved the reaction they were getting from those around them. I wanted to be just like them. I was 8.
Having had adopted the gothic lifestyle internally and externally for my entire adult life thus far, I can honestly say It has been a loving and rewarding experience that I have fully come to appreciate and respect. From the 8 year old on the beach, then staring star eyed and wondered, to the adult I am today, I have always had to defend, explain, and fight for my freedom to be such an extreme individual. I was taunted, punished, provoked, hit, criticized, ridiculed and very much an outcast my whole young adult life. I found comfort in my fellow Goths and discovered a world of those like me where I was accepted.
Today however, Goth has become a mostly acceptable form of fashion and culture. Books explain in detail to parents every aspect of clothing down to the Egyptian eyeliner patterns. Movies make the vampire a sex symbol to even the most common of mothers of the gothic teenager. It seems all is accepted and forgiven and the years before us spent in anguished misunderstanding have now paved the way for the next generation to freely stand in the dark.
This raises an all important question. What now will the future of the gothic generations bring? Very recently I have been seeing something about the streets of New York. It is something I never expected or thought much about before. Gothic Babies. Beautiful pale parents walking down the streets of the east village, black baby strollers afoot. Drabbed inside, pale as their parents and chubby, infants sucking on a fang pacifier. Their clothes are black, Their booties are lace. It can be an adorable site if one tends to favor this lifestyle.
Often The parents Decorate the child’s room with images of bats, snakes, and pumpkins. A lighter side of gothic parenting can be a mix of happy and Gothic images such as smiling cartoons, Gothic children or things one would find in the comic stores like pink bears with bloody claws. To an infant of two or three this can all be very charming and innocent.. It hurts no one if your three year old has a Mohawk or if your baby girl is walking around in black and white stripped stockings. But what happens when the child enters pre-school? Is it still appropriate to be sending Bela junior off to the playground with his little spiked boots and vinyl lunchbox?
Parents have been imposing the images of themselves on their children for as long as time. Parents have children, Those children then rebel and become known as misfits or delinquents. Now we are asking our children to BE the rebels, misfits, and delinquents. Is it fair of us as gothic parents to assume our children’s identity before they themselves can develop it on their own? Just as we were setting ourselves up to be picked on and taunted, are we are now setting THEM up in return to be picked on and taunted? The difference is; we were asking for it. They are not. It is one thing to do your own choosing, pick a certain identity and run with it. Then you may defend that identity proudly and know what your are getting yourself into. Know where the blows will lie when they hit you in your pierced cheek. All this is acceptable to you because it is your decision. This is who you are. Who you decided to be, and you are willing to fight for it. So why is this a decision we are making FOR our children? And if so…are we no better then the parents before who told US who to be and told US what to wear? Why now would we in turn tell our children what to wear, who to be? Dare we say to them “ Be Goth or else?” Isn’t the very foundation of Goth formed on the total and complete freedom of expression and creativity? In that case a child dressed in khakis and a polo shirt he picked out for himself is more GOTH then the ten year old in mourning wear because his parents told him to dress that way.
I firmly believe just as we longed to spread our youthful wings and fly away from our nest, so will the generation after us. To take away the choice of our children and force them to be “like us” would whole-heartily go against everything “GOTH” stands for. It is a decision every alternative parent will have to make not just the Goths. Whether you be a rocker, emo, cyber or punk, If you have children they will choose a path, and it will either be yours, or you should hope, their OWN.

“Lumpkin”

On top Of a pumpkin hill, All Hallows Eve
The sun slowly set in a bright orange gleam

Everywhere you looked, children ran about
Looking for the perfect pumpkin to carve inside out

“I found a great one!” yelled one little child
“This one is better!” said a boy running wild

Every pumpkin was chosen that was seen in sight
To be part of this magic Halloween night

The sky began to dim, the sun no longer shone
But there was still one pumpkin left, and he was all alone

His surface wasn’t smooth, and his lines were all wrong
He looked more like an orange piece of corn

Two girls ran over to see this lone pumpkin
And he smiled till one shouted “ That pumpkin is a Lumpkin!”

“I’m just as good as those other ones! Why wasn’t I picked?!”
Then he saw his reflection in a nearby puddle making him very, very sick.

Night turned to day and still the Lumpkin sat
His only friend was a ratty black cat

Night came again and still he waited
And waited and waited and waited and waited

“Oh well!” he cried “I give up hope!”
“No one wants me, I’m a pumpkin joke!”

He fell asleep under the moon close to midnight
Until he awoke with a startling fright

Two witched grew near and Lumpkin grew scared
He his in the grass and pretended he was not there

But, they saw him anyway and shouted “This is the one!”
“We will enter HIM in the contest. Now this will be fun!”

“Oh NO!” Lumpkin thought “They will make fun of me too!”
“and enter me in the contest because I am so ugly! Boo Hoo!”

At the ball witches gathered from all over the world
Each one has a pumpkin to make your blood curl

Green ones and black ones Lumpkin saw them all
But Thought “I am still the ugliest at the ball”

With a tear Lumpkin sighed, now everyone will laugh and stare
At the ugliest pumpkin they will cackle and glare

Sure enough the two witches won who found Lumpkin alone
And they received the prize pumpkin cup made of graveyard stone

As they held Lumpkin up high, above all with his prize
They announced why he won, with a surprise he realized

“FIRST PRIZE TO THE WINNER: THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PUMPKIN
ANY WITCH HAS EVER SEEN, ON THIS MOST MAGICAL HALLOWEEN”

Aug 1, 2010

There is something changing in me. I fear the loss of my humanity. Before, where I was angry, fighting for all things, including myself… I feel now that fire consuming me instead. And all the pain spent fighting against the world has just resulted in my isolation. Here shall I quote how “all true artists are alone“? I really have begin to wonder at that concept. Could a torture soul know love…be loved? Or do they only know their own suffering.
If a choice was there given unto them…Life in the stars light…alone, angry and bereft of the tenderness of one souls touch alone…would it really be chosen. But what artist does have a choice? They are driven by their passion, and what passion it is…and that responsibility to the art drives those around them away…leaving them standing alone…loved by all…but there alone. What price are we willing to pay for our art? I would like to think the artist should sacrifice EVERYTHING, including themselves to the higher form of their creative duty. I just fear we lose much in it. Perhaps then what we gain in retrospect is worth it…to some…not all. To myself? I don’t know. I know where I wish to go, none would follow…