Gender: Male
Status: Married
Age: 36
City: LE SUEUR
State: Minnesota
Country: US
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October 29, 2009 - Thursday 7:35 PM
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Current mood:  contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry
Petrified sacrificial angel doll
Brush a cheek, a soft lipped kiss
Fractured forever in a memory never made
Porcelain turned to flesh, left
In a photographic wish of youth
Drowning in blue eyes and soft curls
My face in the nape of your neck
Never happened, but my mind digresses
As my soul transgresses so many miles
So many years, so much time
I just wanted what was never mine
Just wanted… my angel to come to life
.. ..
Two in an eight-billion chance
A romance in happenstance that didn’t happen
A heart still held, feelings still felt
Feeling so damn real that they couldn’t be
Because perfection’s infection
Would have left me dead, and gone
But I’m still lingering
With a love on hold
.. ..
Just a ghost of a chance
A romance in happenstance that didn’t happen
The only way to rub two sticks together
When this one’s all alone is to break it again
So there’s no chance for a spark
I expect, just a broken heart in retrospect
With a thought that refuses to die
No matter how much time, or how far it flies
.. ..
Maybe I should burn your photo
Rip your picture to tiny pieces like my dreams
From 20 years ago, dead and gone, and all so wrong
But I’ll be damned if they didn’t feel right
And don’t feel right again tonight
What should I do to make you leave me alone
Like you left me alone so long ago
Burning like hell with this fucking memory
Of a love that was more one sided
Than masturbation in a mirror
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October 21, 2009 - Wednesday 7:11 PM
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Current mood:  calm
Category: Writing and Poetry
Marveled, carved colored glass – a laugh
So much beauty in self destruction
A bullet could never do what artistry can
And again I laugh… I’m laughing loud
.. ..
Just a thought at what it’s all about
Without a doubt, it’s a joke without a punch line
Just life and death, and years of breath
All taken for granted if it’s taken at all
.. ..
Walking out thinking of expanding
Always demanding, always damning
Damning the flow of hope with every breath
Damning the flow with every breath
.. ..
Hey, they say it’s so much more than this
But is it, is it really, how could it be
When it’s just life, death and breath
.. ..
So breathe it deep, forever to keep
Gently rocking the demons to sleep
Taking it all too seriously, obviously
The joke was not meant for me
.. ..
Happiness cannot compensate
Mine are awake, no mistakes
They were here for every breath
Every heart break they make
.. ..
So breathe it deep, forever to keep
Gently rocking the demons to sleep
Taking it all too seriously, obviously
The joke was not meant for me
 | Currently listening: Backspacer By Pearl Jam Release date: 2009-11-10 |
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September 22, 2009 - Tuesday 5:25 PM
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Current mood:  nostalgic
Category: Writing and Poetry
Dancing In My Dreams Again (2009)(2004)
.. ..
The hopeful sadness of tempo
Regretful, fretful tormented bliss
Dangling over waves of tomorrow
Standing on a lover’s cliff
.. ..
I remember the smell of smoke
Whiskey lingered on my breath
The feel of your hands as we danced
I swore I’d never dance again
.. ..
Ghostly white and tight enough to dare dreams
Sorrows second dress - the one I like best
Dance away the night if only in retrospect
Come back to me if only as a temptress
.. ..
Powerful passion in tone bronzed legs
Move those hips to the beat in my mind
Shake that waist ‘til angels fall
Just one dance, but ten years time
.. ..
Haunt my thoughts, more than I ever thought
Not without your smile to drive me wild
Now the music’s not the same
Its sadness channeled from regret
.. ..
Bacardi blues drown those days
As if the pedestal’s height could make them fade
Such distance doesn’t digress
It blurs the truth & enhances the dream
.. ..
Here’s to the memory of youth
The loss of innocent hope
Was all that I lost that night
As Amy’s hands left mine…
To dance alone
In the corner of my mind
Forever and ever and tonight
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September 19, 2009 - Saturday 1:28 AM
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Current mood:  refreshed
Category: Writing and Poetry
This was originally a spoken word poem with two of my old friends playing bass and lead guitar. I have it on audio cassette, but I don't have the capability to put it onto a CD here...
If anyone knows how to do that cheaply please feel free to send me a message.
It was originally written in 1994 on a Saturday night, Sunday morning after a long night of drinking and dancing... I may have posted this years ago so anyone that gets upset about such things... take a breath and relax. If you can't relax...
Tonight, or Rather, Last Night
.. ..
I guess it’s Sunday morning!
And like usual I come home alone
Like so many times before
But there is a new breakthrough
So to speak – in the area of my depression
Yeah, I’m a little bit down
But it’s not like it was
The laws of gravity
No longer have effect on me
I have felt bad, maybe even worse
But that’s all in the past!
OH YEAH!
.. ..
Tonight or rather last night
I danced a slow dance
With the most beautiful creature
With the most beautiful features
Never seen nothing
This side of heaven
And I didn’t feel I was in the wrong
.. ..
I guess it’d be best
To say – it was kind of nice
I’m a bit anxious
And for lack of a better word
I guess kind of greedy
But how could I be greedy
For what I never had
.. ..
I see improvements in my demeanor
Oh my God you should have seen her
A welcome sight to my eyes
And well tonight or rather last night
I danced a slow dance
With an angel HELL couldn’t hold!
.. ..
I held her tight
Tonight, or rather last night
In her eyes there were no lies
Oh God it felt right
To see the sight
I held her tight
Tonight or rather last night
.. ..
It all matters
No it doesn’t
It’s a perspective thing
If you know what I mean
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September 5, 2009 - Saturday 9:16 AM
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Current mood:  catalyzed
Category: Writing and Poetry
Touched passion just to push it further away
Loved because I was supposed to
Not simply because I could
When blood equaled love
I knew I’d never be enough
Needed to be held
Not held captive
Not held back
Just to feel warmth
And no longer be the second son
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July 17, 2009 - Friday 4:59 AM
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Current mood:  blessed
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Treasure Beneath The Chest Brad Beneke 7.7.09
Every snap, every clasp Whether front or back A reminder of way back when The need became apparent And the training began From the attention brought Wanted or not All of a sudden the questions come
The memories start to race So many firsts coupled with possible lasts And the past starts to haunt Diagnosed – positive or not Never soon enough Smile turns to quiver As the C word is delivered Tears are shed, fears are fed
Grace and Lace with steel resolve Bravery saps strength But love refills when confidence wanes Strength comes from the soul The love of friends, of family Medicine, love and faith The fight is already won Because it’s always been about love
Each breath means another chance Today’s treasured chest Has been there through the worst The best and all the rest A daughter, a sister, a mother a lover Every snap, every clasp Whether front or back Never changes who you are!
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May 22, 2009 - Friday 4:59 AM
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Current mood:  amused
Category: Writing and Poetry
They wanted rhyme, they wanted verse
What they got was more perverse
What is seen is what they get
What I feel, they cannot
On that I’ll take bets
Mirror, mirror on the floor
How many pieces of me adorn
Theatric spectacle of unvoiced screams
Swept up disappeared,
Like night-life sunbeams
Testimonial harmony of silent death
Anger turns to hate in one quick breath
A drop of blood atop the chaos
Cherry like pristine replication
Childhood’s painful homage
What I feel I cannot forget
Forever and ever all regret Agony of malaise, thunderstruck
Seven lifetimes of bad luck
As it reflects a twisted fuck
Wish in one hand, and sin with the other
All grown up but buried another mother
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May 16, 2009 - Saturday 4:59 AM
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Current mood:  anxious
Category: Writing and Poetry
It’s back to the page where life and lines combine Bringing myself back to the beginning with a reaffirmed love Forgoing the CD clarity for a record’s scratch Giving up on health for happiness seems asinine From outside eyes, but not mine I’ll live to see the Holy Grail & Pandora’s Box Though Pompeii was once home Atlantis vanished a thousand hours from dawn Leaving enlightenment in the broken bulb Of sun shattered wisdom Education is learning the rules But no book could be more than a guide From duct & bone generations Weather its Biminis’s Coast Or Oak Island’s Pit of Gold Mythology is just a religion of the dead Just like Stonehenge Unanswered questions with the same old recitations No new questions – sure as hell no new solutions Selling out the old soul buys a few more days of a young man’s age But youth was never wasted because no one dares to ask That what we seek to find might kill belief Like a child’s innocent dreams corrupted by time’s disease As the Whippoorwill whimpers & dies from forgotten pride I wonder what was before Atlantis
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April 1, 2009 - Wednesday 5:30 AM
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Current mood:  blessed
Category: Writing and Poetry
Hello hell-hole Satan’s home It has been a while I was on the road So long ago I left the nest Shaved my head in your honor Joined the movement Swastika tattooed on my forehead The cross across my ass Ten years in jail For a crime I was happy to commit Sacrifice in blood The virgin blood of the heart Still beating from their bodies Drinking their blood And stealing their souls Sending them to you Am I sorry? NO Let the show begin Warden flip the switch if you’re man enough
(I wrote this after watching a documentry on Charles Manson... I was raised to be a minister... I listened to Slayer. I was always told, always taught... now I'm the teacher interesting, and my lesson today is in editing... I am going through some of my oldest poems... and damn the quality... I don't care what it was... I'm now working on revising them, and I thought I'd share. I know that this one will get a rise out of people.
Also I am still working on a book of poetry for my mother, and still working on ideas for my novels... addicted to facebook... for an attention whore like myself... it feeds me the lies I need to hear.
But we all know my poetry is where my truth lies... and I decided to take a 15 year old's work, and see what I could do to it now. Please let me know wat you think.
Warden flip that switch If you think you’re man enough I’ve drank blood in the moonlight You call my cell a hellhole I call it Satan’s home It’s been a while, But I’ve been on the road
So long ago I left the nest Shaved my head in your honor Joined the movement Swastika tattooed on my forehead The cross across my ass Ten years in jail For a crime I was happy to commit
Sacrifice’s were made in your name Watching their dying eyes Fear and horror filling their hearts Still beating in their veins Stealing their souls Sending them to you Am I sorry? Hell No! WARDEN!!!!!!!!! Let the show begin As I said, if you’re man enough
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March 9, 2009 - Monday 1:18 AM
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Current mood:  bouncy
Category: Writing and Poetry
Sorry if in my last blog I was way too negative, but in the end... it's my blog, and my opinion, and it's one of the last bastians of being able to say exactly what I think at that given time.
To answer one person's question... there was a time when I was a top 5 blogger in the writing section on here just by posting a poem. I thank Je.. Maverick, Jon Sanders, Eileen and a lot of the old guard of myspace for accepting, and teaching me how to get it done.
I also had a comment that I never go to anyone else's page. 99% of the time I am reading your work from my phone, and cannot stand how it capitalizes every first letter of every word, and there doesn't seem to be a way for me to turn that off. Also through my Upstage II phone giving comments, and messages is an absolute nightmare because I can only do long long long long long paragraphs, and that's just not cool. Makes me feel like a Rookie.
So yes, I have a big ego, and yeah, I think I've earned that right, and in some ways it's nostalgia for me to want that kind of attention... and it's very arrogant of me to want it without doing the work involved... going to other pages, and shamelessly plugging my blog like I use to back in the day. I was doing that shit long before a lot of the popluar bloggers were even blogging on here, but this isn't meant as anything against them. Bob, Tarringo, Eileen, and others (I haven't checked the top blogs in a long time)... whomever... they are all friends of mine, and people that have been the support network of the writing community on here. So there is nothing but love towards all of them. I was just waxing as they say.
My grandfather always told me it was ok to bitch and complain, but only if you were going to do something about it. So since I'm not really planning on doing much about it... I will stop complaining as much. I have a poem for you. And sometime Next week I think I will have my annual I AM WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING IN BASEBALL AGAIN THIS YEAR JUST WATCH! blog. Meaning if anyone could go back and see my blog last year on the baseball season... I was wrong almost all the fucking way around. The Twins and the White Sox were good, The Devil Rays were great, the Reds sucked, and the Mets tanked. If it weren't for the Angels I think I was completely skunk-fucked.
But here we are... poem time... this is something I wrote a while ago as I've not had a lot of inspiration for my poetry other than deep sadness for the loss of my mother, and I am selfishly keeping that, and not sharing it right now.
A Life Sentence of Breath
This turbulent tangled desperate act I am so, so sorry for not understanding But I still see, hear, and feel The sting of my wind slapped silken cheeks Soft and billowy as pillowed clouds My soul chaotic confuses only me A fragrance of hope leaves me wanting And I feel a feeling of unbecoming
There has never been a choice for me But over time I rake my soul over detriment’s coals And the Dutch Elm Diseased trees Of Lincoln’s, Washington’s, and Franklin’s Can’t pay for my crimes There is no guarantee for greatness No money down; no money back And my debt to life forever grows
I’m indebted to you for your poisonous love You’re gouging of my eyes And all those beautiful blackened lies I love your hatred towards me Because it frees me from hating myself Is it the sorrow I long for When I cry – Why Why God Why me
 | Currently listening: Mr Lucky By Chris Isaak Release date: 2009-02-24 |
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March 5, 2009 - Thursday 7:09 PM
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Current mood:  annoyed
Category: Music
I have 3 musicians that I have not seen live that I have wanted to see. Of those, Tom Waits will tour again, Nick Cave tours every couple of years, but Leonard Cohen... this is his first tour since 1993! He is coming to Minnesota, and tickets went on sale on Monday morning at 10am. The problem is that every single ticket was sold out my 7:15 Friday night. That is the FRIDAY BEFORE THE TICKETS WENT ON SALE TO THE PUBLIC!!! How is it legal for scalpers to have access to nearly all the tickets before the concert even went on sale? If you go to Ebay you can find the 75 dollar cheap seats for 225-250 dollars a pop. You can find the 89.50 tickets for 275-310, and the 125 tickets are sold for almost 400 dollars. I even saw one of the $545 front 4 row seats selling for 1200 dollars. Yes, I admit I am bitter that I was unable to get a hold of a ticket, but why is it ok that I can order a ticket for a show in Minneapolis to some ticket broker in Philedelphia, or Boston? Just throwing this out here so people know that I'm still alive. I have had a lot on my plate lately in my personal life with the death of my mother, two of my good friends online have passed away, and my writing is not getting the attention that I think it deserves, and I refuse to whore myself like I did in the past... and when I see the updates on here are the same 5 freaking people every 3-4 minutes on my friends list... and all of that... I am not going to spend that kind of time on myspace right now. I love blogging, I miss it, but as arrogant as it sounds, if I am going to be writing for myself, and trying to network socially... right now with the horrible mistakes that myspace has made... Facebook kicks it's ass. I never wanted to admit that, or believe that because I love myspace, but Tom and the gang dropped the ball, and combining that with the fact that I am no longer a flavor of the month... I just am having a hard time seeing the point. IF you have opinions on any of this... please... I beg you to leave a comment, leave kudos... just to prove that you are out there...
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February 8, 2009 - Sunday 5:59 AM
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Current mood:  breezy
Category: Writing and Poetry
Just me and you walking through skyway stale grime To stay out of the cold gloom of February’s tomb When I see a little man fiddling around on a violin Toss him a five; smiling he hands you a rose Silk folds of blood red sweetness, A scent smooth and cool freshness With just a faint touch of hope that maybe… just maybe
The puzzled look pieces together a smile So wide, so divine your eyes shine with life and light Amazing amazement sparkle and a smile Twirl you around in a pirouette, bend you over my knee Face to face I smile, and nod to the packrat Paganini With scarred black hands, and a graying beard He smiles back with a nod, and a wink
Knowing that what I have, what we have is more That most will ever know, could ever hope to grow And we haven’t but just met but through words Wisdom, ages and hours spent with bated breath Turns the NOW into right now, and your hand clenches mine
Two blocks down you twirl the green of stem With a prick of blood, the rose in silent modesty Blossoms with life as you put your thumb to your lips Your fingers let go of the rose, let go of hope As I grasp, clasping it before it hits the ground You smile, walk on and say hold it to remember And I stand alone not warm, not quite cold Holding a rose bled from lust to dust in a beat of a heart And a salt quenched lipstick’d lip
A Rose for Tessa by BC Beneke 2.5.09
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February 1, 2009 - Sunday 5:59 AM
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Current mood:  distraught
Category: Life
Anyone that knows me knows that my mom and I have never really been close personal friends. We have fought and argued most of my life. A lot of it was my own fault for being as stubborn as I am, but some of it was not, and while I have my reasons, and I have my rights to feel this way I just don't see it mattering. She is my mom, and she very well might die on me. Most of you don't know, but my mom had a very massive heart attack on Tuesday afternoon, and was pronounced dead twice before coming back... She was then airlifted to a bigger hospital that could handle this sort of thing, and was put in a medical coma, and medical hypothermia to protect her organs and especially her brain. Her body has responded pretty decently to the medical procedures, and the amazing work that it appears that the doctors, and staff are doing at the IMSJ hospital in Mankato MN. However her EEG readings were not extremely encouraging, and as I told a friend of mine today over the phone. "When you get home tonight you give your child a hug, and tell her that you love her, and when you are done, you call your mom and dad and tell them that you love them as well because you never know when this is going to be the last time you get to do it, or hear it back." That is the only real message I have in this blog tonight. Just tell the people in your life that you love them. Let them know how much they matter, how you feel, and maybe you won't have to feel as guilty as I do today. You won't have to feel like you didn't get enough time... you didn't get to say all the things you wanted to say... I tell my wife and children that I love them every single day many times throughout the day... hell, I once just sent a balloon to the school for my daughter simply because I love her, and knew that it would make her smile. However, because of something that happened in 1995 that almost killed me, or rather almost lead me to consider killing myself the one and only time that ever happened... I blamed her for that feeling of being alone. I just want to get this shit off of my chest, and if it makes me seem like less of a person to you, or more or whatever... I have to admit that right now I don't care. I just need to dump my shit, and I want to do it where I have a public record so maybe I can let it go! Letting go is something I don't do. My best friend died in 1995, on the 4th of July, and 3 days later at the wake I was sitting between his little brothers as I was always kind of like an extra kid to them, and to me they were like my extra family. I was at my absolute worst that day, and my mom patted Brandon on the head, hugged Darron, hugged his mom and dad, and skipped me. Chad and I were best friends for 16 years, and on the one day where I felt the most alone in my entire life... she made me feel like I had nothing left, and for a few hours I seriously thought about taking my vehicle right into the river after the wake. No lie... I was destroyed. I was lucky that a person that had no business being there stopped by just to give me a hug that night, and tell me that everything was going to be ok. That man later lost his mind, and shot someone, shot after his ex-girlfriend, and then blew his own head off on his father's birthday. However he saved my life on July 7th 1995, and for that I will be forever grateful. Over the last 36-48 hours or however long it's been now... things have come to light in my mom's situation that has caused some major anger from members of my family towards my mom. I just don't understand. I am putting aside years of what has eaten me up, and something I have not talked about in full like this before. We need to focus on my mom, and possitive energy, and right now there just isn't any reason to hold onto the SHIT! We need to concentrate on the good. And if I could ask a special favor of all of you... atheists, christians, muslims, buddhists, Hindu, jewish, or anything I may have missed. I just want your best wishes towards my mother so she can either heal, or leave in peace without having to suffer in a vegatative state. Would you do that for me, for my family, her friends, and mostly just for her? Thank you, and don't forget to call and tell the people you love that they matter to you! BC Beneke
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January 28, 2009 - Wednesday 5:38 AM
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Current mood:  aroused
Category: Life
So I am supposed to be working on paperwork for tax time. So now my muse is teasing me with about 1000 ideas for my book Holding Ghosts. I'm on hold on the phone the other day, and all of a sudden lyrics to a verse for a song pop into my head, and I don't have a pen and paper... in fact I was driving so I shouldn't have been on the phone in the first place. Today I'm at dinner with Greg Zilberg, and I want to talk to him about some ideas, and find out about his birthday party that I missed by a block (I'm a fucktard sometimes)... ugh! lol. Long story, but it's funny. I went to the wrong club, and was bored out of my mind. I went across from Rosen's on 1st Ave, and it was fucking lame. They were at the Lounge a block away... I blew it. ugh. HA! So today I am here at the office and I am supposed to be finally writing out names on envelopes, and buying stamps... I need like 100 stamps, and what am I doing... zoning out and writing a fucking blog. What is wrong with my god damn brain? It is like Sabotage from the inside job inside my own fucking mind man. I thought that the voices in my head were all in agreement with me, but between the depression and the stress of everything it appears they are conspiring against me. I am the only thing that can destroy me. I am telling you, it's absolutely disgusting. It's amusing, and it's sad, but the worst part is that once I buckle down and get my shit together... all of my creative ideas will dry up, and hide in the furthest corners of my mind. I just wonder why my mind is playing this game with me? Well, apparently it has to be something with the depression because I've never noticed this type of behavior in myself before. So unlike Joe Average who won't notice it, or Joe Blow Average who will just live with it... I am scheduling an appointment with a shrink to see what the fuck! If I can put all my ideas in order 2009 is going to be in-fucking-credible. I have 38 ideas for T-shirts now I have 4 new chapter ideas for Holding Ghosts 2 new ideas for Lowest Common Denominator 2 new story ideas completely. and my marketing ideas for my business are flying through my brain at about a billion miles an hour, and I keep watching them crash into plexiglass windows (installed to keep me from abandoning ship a long time ago). But it's absolutely crazy. Now this is not supposed to be scary, this is not supposed to be angry, or overly amusing... this is supposed to a question for you people. Do you people think like this at all, or is this just my diseased mind in overdrive? There is just no stopping the brain, but for the life of christ I can't concentrate on anything individually. Brad
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January 21, 2009 - Wednesday 5:59 AM
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Current mood:  bouncy
Category: Writing and Poetry
Turning a page, a memory, name 7 digits, a million reasons to let it ring A date, a face, and a meeting place Calling card blues a familiar tune
And you know I’m missing you Wondering if you’re staring our your window Wondering about me
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