On the Male Creative Gland

NB: The use of the terms man, men, male, mankind, and the pronouns he, him, and his have all been used in a non descriminitive way and are in no way meant to indicate that women are unable to function creatively or that they lack imagination. This article is meant to examine the male creative process.

In all male humans there is a gland, known as the viros gland(pronounced WEE-ros, from the latin for "man"). It is located in the Soul Organs, below the Will, and in between the Lower Mind and the Frontal Emotions. The viros gland is the primary vessel for containing the vigor of a man, the creative and energetic essence from which dreams, ideas, and imagination flows and it maintains the vigor throughout the entire soul, analogous to the heart. The viros is also like the human stomach, in that it can expand and contract, depending upon the amount of vigor it amy contain.

The vigor in the male soul flows from the Emotional Organs into the viros gland and then out into the Mind Organelles, though sometimes the flow can be reversed when one area becomes more vigor starved than another. The intent of the viros gland is to keep the entire Soul in a state of continous vigorous equilibrium. However, being under the Will Tissues means that the viros gland can be minipulated by the Will and it's influences for other purposes.

When a man does hard physical work, it stimulates the production of vigor, as does contact with soil or dirt. (The reason why young boys have enlarged viros glands being their continual play in mud, et al.) Men also produce more vigor when exposed to a natural light source (e.g. sunlight, firelight, candlelight, moonlight.) than when kept in conditions of articifial light or light depraved situations. Vigor is also produced in great abundance when a man is praised. For the male, the praise of a woman, for even the smallest thing he has done, is the greatest honor and purest pleasure and so from this praise vigor is produced in abundance in both the Emotions and the Mind.

Vigor is spent slowly during mundane situations, and when great mental stress is placed upon the mind because of physical or mental situations. Vigor is also spent when it leaves the viros gland through the Upper Mind and exits through the Creativity Channels. A less productive method of de-vigoration is through passion, for as passion levels in the Lower Emotions rise, they burn vigor in order to maintain the levels of passion.

When the viros gland is completely drained of vigor, the soul releases lethargic compounds into the Body in order to produce sleep. During sleep, the Will's control of the viros is deactivated and the viros can then extract a highly volatile form of vigor from the Lesser Mind, specifically from the Memory Gland. This causes lucid dreaming and brings back equilibrium of the vigor to the soul.

Should the viros gland not be able to extract from the Memory Gland fast enough, it may also begin to digest small parts of the Emotions in order to keep the viros active. Certian emotions such as sadness or love are more easily digested by the viros than anger or fear. These emotions can be regrown, either from remnants in the Forntal Emotions or from a transplant from someone else. The viros gland may digest all the emotions in which case emotional enthropy, also known as apathy, may set in.

However, if the vigor is completely drained and sleep not administered, and none of the vigor producers active in a person's life the viros may wither completely and die. This is especially true if a person is continually being drained of vigor without being given any oppertunity to produce more. Certain occupations tend to kill the viros faster and with more speed than others. These include occupations related to death such as morgue attendants and funeral home manager, those related to finance such as bankers and politicians, and the military. However, men with large and healthy viros glands have been able to function in these inviroments without harm. Contrarily there are few who are born without a viros gland at all: they work for the IRS.

There are also certain substances that effect the viros gland. These include alchol, nicotine, absinthe, and caffeine. These can all magnify the effects of vigor temporarily in the emotions but have a long term effect of slowly shrinking the the viros gland until it becomes starved and begins to consume the emotions and/or the mind. Other kinds of substances such as narcotics and opiates can cause permenant viros damadge and possibly death.

The viros gland is what separates men from beasts and what makes a man a man. Without it men become hollow empty shells as their souls die and their spirits become weakened. The viros gland is the single most important part of the male soul and is the heart of male creativity.

The Reality of Brutality

The cold grey rain fell in long sheets, pelting the thousands of warm bodies that were heaving, sending a mist up from their ranks as they watched and waited. The grassy meadow had been turned into a muddy quagmire of sucking, grey earth, embedded with sharp stones and hard rocks threatening to bite into the exposed calves of the men in the plaid kilts.

From the other side of the misty, steaming cloud bank a lone drum roll like a death rattle echoed and rebound about the arena of death. Then the first soldier in his bright red uniform of murder came into view of the expecting armies. He was joined by rank after rank of men in uniforms stained red by the dyes from far conquered lands and the blood of the conquered. Their step was steady; their eyes cool and sharp, disdain painted upon their faces for the savages they faced, the ones they knew were their brothers.

The wild men, unbound and free, painted in the greens and blacks of their beloved forest raised their weapons to the pale white disc of the sun that could barely be seen behind its veil of grey smoke, asking blessings of their sky father in their pagan tongues. The young cadets from the red armies, inexperienced and scared crossed themselves, calling upon their holy mother for protection. One looked one last time upon the image of a beloved, a beauty painted upon a small portrait inside a locket kept at his heart. Another licked his lips, eager for his first taste of blood, all of heaven heaping curses upon his damned soul.

Then the drum stopped. The soldiers awaited their commands, fingers upon their muskets. The wild men felt their blood begin to boil, recalling every evil they had ever heard of their captors and even some they hadn’t until the consuming rage rang in their ears as blood rushed into their hands and hate into their souls. They screamed their hatred to the clouds and began their charge for the murders before them.

The soldiers in red lowered their weapons at the command of the commanders and took aim at the painted targets. The call came, the trump sounded, and with a cascade of explosions and puffs of smoke, boiling lead burned into the bodies of the charging wild men. Their blood flowed into the muddy field, their bones broken, their mouths foaming with pure rage and hatred.

The soldiers lowered their weapons and reloaded as the next rank stood. The green men were closer and had raised crude shields to deflect some of the artillery. Some were lucky and others fell coughing on blood onto the field. Then the wild ones were within range of the red ones and arrows flew with deadly accuracy. Arrow shafts pierced soft skin, stones broke noses and arms, the murdered now the murderers themselves. The soldiers and the wild men met with a clash of metal swords and oaken clubs.

Screams and yells echoed throughout the meadow, steam rising from dead and decaying bodies, weak and wounded fighters, the enraged and blood stained as they continued the slaying and the cullings. The sword tasted the blood of fathers, sons, and husbands, the club crushed the dreams, memories, and futures of the young cadets. In a single afternoon, the meadow ran red with the blood of thousands of murderers and murdered.

Then there was a calm. The fighting ceased, the murderers returned to their camps on the sides of the meadow. And then the hell began. The cries of the dying upon the battlefield, of the boys bidding farewell to sweethearts, of men calling for their children, longing desperately for their homes and their loved ones and the warm meals.

A group of generals from the wild men ascended the hill and met with the commanders of the red army neath their canopy. The orchestrators, the leaders, the planners were all together and as they sat listing to the symphony of human agony, they smoked their cigars together and remarked upon the growing dusk of the world; how blue the hour painted the receding clouds.

And then all stopped their smoking and talking. The pale full moon had appeared behind the clouds, a hallo of purity surrounding her as she illuminated the lone figure. A man, dressed as peasant, moved from soldier to soldier with his bucket and ladle. Death has a curious effect upon the human body, it creates a great thirst. And this man, the man in white, moved from person to person and gave them a final drink of cool spring water before they were claimed by death’s icy hand.

He worked his way up the hill, towards where the group beneath the canopy sat smoking. He continued ladling the water, the harden soldiers weeping at their angel as they gave up the breath. Then when he came near the canopy the generals realized he made no distinction between wild man and red soldier.

“You there! Man, what are you doing!”

“Sir, the men are thirsty.”

“But why do you give all drink?”

“I have no quarrel with these men. They are all my brothers and they all need. How could I refuse them?”

“Don’t you realize that blood alone moves the wheels of history!?!”

“Don’t you realize that winning a war is like winning an earthquake… you don’t.”

The commander thought upon the words of the young man as he continued ladling to the dying. His moustache twitched slightly and he motioned with his left hand. Two soldiers came forward and two shots rang out clearly across the evening sky. Water and blood mingled upon the field as the odor of death began to spread.

“Hmm. War is the most profitable industry we have. Only those stupid enough to get in the way of the mighty pocketbook need concern themselves with the… cost.”

The Untitled Poem

Inspired by Muht
Written by Me
Dedicated to D.
In Loving Memory of Jeremy

Don’t give me that look
Like you know everything
Like you can judge me
And my every sin
I won’t hide it
But I’m not proud
I’ve done many things
You’d not have allowed
You see me as I am
You get what you see
I've been this same way
Since the day he left me

It okay
Daddy’s here
In my arms
Never fear
I’ll fight the monsters
And come back home
Just remember, son
You are never alone

Today was hard
I took him in
They did their tests
He gave his grin
He’s daddy’s slugger
He’s my little man
I’ll shave my head like his
And do what I can
They’ll run more test
Try more cures
As his smile fades
I can’t endure

It okay
Daddy’s here
In my arms
Never fear
I’ll fight the monsters
And come back home
Just remember, son
You are never alone

The shovel’s heavy
The ground was cold
Today I buried him
He was five years old
My blood runs thin
My heart has died
The pain so deep
All tears now cried
Then I remember
That fateful day
When he looked so scared
And I hear me say

It okay
Daddy’s here
In my arms
Never fear
I’ll fight the monsters
And come back home
Just remember, son
You are never alone
You are never alone

Lessons in Breathing

Lessons in Breathing

He’s doing it again. Watching you from across the room. No, don’t turn, if you look his way you know what will happen. He’ll disappear like he always does. He’s still watching, he seems nervous tonight. And there he goes, I told you not to look.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

The café is noisy tonight, but we’re having another good talk. We always have good talks… He just stepped in the doorway. He’s searching, scanning faces, looking. And he sees you. His eyes lit up instantly. Can you see his reflection in the window? He’s still smiling. You like his smile don’t you? I can tell, you’re smiling back at his reflection. And you’re not breathing. I guess his smile took you’re breath away.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

Sometimes you can be so funny. We’re trying to talk here but I know you two are watching each other in the glass. He smiles. You smile back. His grin widens, you begin to blush. Go ahead, turn around, he won’t disappear tonight. Nope, just a nod of his smiling face. Your eyes meet. You’re captivated by each other’s gaze. Just remember to keep breathing.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

Well, I checked him out. He seems to have a good job, is going to school, and… none of this matters to you because you are too excited to go to dinner with him tonight. Well, I give you my consent. He seems decent enough. I know, I’m the best big brother in the world… even though we’re not even related. But… we’ve been friends so long that we might as well be. But anyway, have fun tonight. Remember, to take a deep breath to help stop the blushing.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

I noticed you looked disappointed that he didn’t come to the café today. Don’t worry. I’m sure he enjoyed last night just as much as you did. Okay, stop looking at me like that. What? Alright, so I may have told him that you like lilies more that roses… those pink ones not the white ones. Oh, yeah that was me too. Though I’m sure you had already told him your favorite food is Vietnamese. Yeah, and the hazelnut chocolates may have been my idea too. Nope, that’s it. The rest was all him. Wait, oh and I did recommend the restaurant too. But other than that, the date was all his idea. I mean come on, he should get some more credit after the second month.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

I’m glad you’re so happy. The light in your eyes and dance in your step assures me that I made the right decision. Um, what decision? Well, um, I’ll tell you some other time. For now, just be careful, for my sake. Don’t laugh! No, I do not sound like your dad! Promise me you’ll take things slow. He’s taking you where? Wow, that sounds nice. Alright, have fun. I look forward to hearing all about it tomorrow.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

There, there. Here, wipe your eyes. It’ll be okay. You had no way of knowing. No, I should have checked up on him more. Lucky for him he left town otherwise your brothers and I would have to hunt him down and do terrible things to him. There’s that smile. Why is the picture of me hurting anything so funny? Anyway, here have another scoop of icecream. Yes, I have the Pride and Prejudice right here for you. Yes, it’s the old eight hour one. Um, sure I’ll stay and watch it with you. No, I would never dream of telling you I told you so.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

Oh, that’s a nice name. Where’d you meet? For real? The library? Um… wow? I’m not being a punk! Look, its just not an answer I hear everyday. Oh, he does? Well, I guess I’ll just have to meet Mr. Eyes-that-are-blue-like-a-cherubs’. Hey, you were the one that said it!

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

Wow. Roses, chocolates, gifts from Nordstrom’s and Sephora’s? He sounds like a regular charmer. He even went shopping with you? That’s impressive. Yes, I saw his freakishly pale blue eyes. No, I’m just teasing. It was refreshing to see that old light and laughter back in your face. And that dimple you always get when you’re planning something. Just tell me and stop smiling like a maniac.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

Okay, I’m impressed. You really out did yourself this time. I know you can’t cook, but ordering out and putting the food in bowls to make it look like you made it specially for him is sheer genius. No, I don’t think he’ll suspect. He doesn’t know you as well as I do. Yes its fine, I know I would love it. Stop fidgeting and take a deep breath! Your hair and dress is perfect and… that would be him at the door. I’ll sneak out the back. Oh, and I guess I should take the Happy Panda containers with me so he doesn’t see them.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

I can’t believe it. When did he… you know, pop the question? And then what? Why, I thought you loved him? He didn’t make you happy? There, there. Its okay. I’ll get the Pride and Prejudice and the ice cream. Could we watch the shorter version this time? Sorry, just a question… No, you’re not a horrible person. Don’t ever say that again.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

In the café like old times. And there I go spilling coffee on my new shirt. Yip, just like old times. So, how has school been? I missed our regular coffee days… You’re looking at his spot in the corner aren’t you. Don’t look down at your mug like that. You’re not gonna find the answer in there. Look at me. It was his loss. And it starts raining hard just when I would like to brighten the mood. Listen I want to tell you something. You might want to take a deep breath.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

Stop! No, I’m not letting go of your hand until you hear what I have to say! I don’t care if we’re soaked to the bone in the pouring rain! I love you! I have always loved you! And I always will! I’m sorry I can’t keep it in anymore! I can’t stand watching you break your heart with guys who never appreciated you for who you are. I love you. I don’t ever want to be away from you again. And I don’t want you to ever doubt my love. I w-

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x

And that was our first kiss. In the middle of the street in the pouring October rain. It felt like we were swimming in the rain and in each other’s love and arms. It was a dive I never wanted to surface from. I didn’t want to come up to take a breath because I was afraid I would wake up to it just being a dream. But when I did finally breathe, and our breaths came out in warm misty swirls, my lungs heaved with the firy, cool sensation like I was truly breathing for the first time ever.

The Princess and the Slave

the bright southern sun shone
on rows of fluffy white clouds
as she walked on the cool earth
so dark and rich and smooth.

a stray curl of midnight's hue
flew from behind her headband high
the rest cascaded across her back
so dark and rich and smooth.

she knew not the strangers tongue
but her deep dark eyes were wise
and they were locked up mysteries
so dark and rich and smooth.

her long thin hands and fingers
made for music or soft caresses
moved fluidly like soaring ravens
so dark and rich and smooth.

even in her most lowly work
her elegant neck, her head held high
and her deep sanorous voice sang
so dark and rich and smooth.