Just A Simple Poet's Notebook

I am a man of God, first and foremost you must understand this, I have given my life to servicing the means of the lord most high, I am a trained solider in the army of God himself, I was told early on in life it was my task in this world, to be its judge, its jury and executioner to those who do not deserve to live in the world created by the all holy. Some dismiss it, say it was a mental illness that crept into my mind like an insect that burrows under your skin and lays its eggs there, they say I never heard the word of the almighty, that it was my mind twisting at a young age, as my gift came to the surface and it feeding off my wants for a better life, for a better world, others say it was a lie I told to explain why I used my gift to kill my father, that horrible excuse for a sin filled sack of bile and puss, and that after awhile, I started to believe the lie, and it became reality to me. All the naysayers, all those who believe I am crazy, that I am not a weapon of the divine god almighty, will regret that choice in their lives by the time the rapture comes for them, oh I have seen it my children, I have seen it and I am more then ready for my part in it all.

I remember the day it all started as clear as the finest crystal, I was a boy of just 13 years of age, a lot like another boy who was told at 13 he would have a greater role to play in the world, I was out behind my father's home in south western Georgia, deep in the dirty rotten festering haven for sinners called the american south, I was down by the river that went behind the house, my father had just run out of his heavy alcoholic beverage of choice, and as I've learned over the years its best to be far away from him when or if that happens. I remember hearing him yelling and ranting and slamming things violently around the house screaming and cussing the most foul of words as if they were as common place as the lord's prayer at a dinner table. I remember him calling my name, yelling for me, bellowing for me, after my mother had left, it became my job to do all that she would do, all the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping, and it was apparently my fault he'd run out of the dark brown liquid that had bewitched his soul and strangled it with the vile addiction that cost him everything, his health, his job, his marriage, and soon, his only child. I remember hearing him lumber toward the back door to the house, and I remember hiding inside that giant hollowed out tree that I used to use as a place to be free of him and his horrors, hiding like a scared little woodland creature, waiting for a large predator to leave my home, huddled there not making a sound. I get sick to my stomach when I think of how weak I was back then, its sickening to the core. I remember the relief I'd felt when he would go away, back to the house, back to the darkly lit living room full of empty beer bottles, chips and take out reminisce, where it smelled like human waist, beer and cigarette smoke, even when the windows were open and the wind blew fresh clean air into the house, you could still smell it, you don't forget that kind of smell, never.

I remember hiding in my log, waiting for the sound of the back porch door coming shut, and then waiting to hear if I heard him anymore. I remember when I peaked out to make sure all was clear, I saw him standing there. Not my father, the drunken dullard who for some abnormality in god's great design had fathered me, but instead a tall well groomed and well kept older gentleman who called himself The Metranon, the voice of god on earth, an emissary from the almighty himself. And he told me that god had a plan for me, a mission of mercy and right, a mission that would wipe all of the grime and filth off of this planet's surface and leave the earth a better place, all united in their belief in the almighty. The Metranon told me that I was given a gift that day, the gift to see your sins, to know your sins and to force you to face them face to face, it is how the saved shall be separated from those who will die for their sins and pave the way to the promised land for the rest of us. I was told I was to be their judge, their jury, and if needed, their executioner. You might wonder why the voice of god almighty would appear to me and tell me my duty in life, and give me the power to make it happen, all at the age of 13, well to me, its a simple answer, when you are born into hell, and live there your whole life, with no chance of relief or reprieve, it gives you a unique look at the world, you see what it really is, you see the good for the good and the bad for the bad, and you also learn that its very easy to make another suffer for their transgressions, because regardless of who they are and how they live, if they've done something wrong, they have to pay, no exceptions, ever.

I remember after The Metranon left, I decided to try out my power, after all, what good is giving someone a loaded gun if they never pull the trigger just once to try it out? I walked in the house, and there I saw my father, Peter Bezalel, a man that to my knowledge has never so much as had a thought that wasn't soaked in some hellish venom and wrapped in razorwire 6 times over, he was the reason my mother left, and left me alone in this hellish place with him, this man, this demon, was the perfect subject to test my new powers on. And I did, god help me, I did, at 13 years old, I slayed my first demon, and by all thats divine and holy, I enjoyed every single second of it, I might even go as far as to say I relished it with the joy most would reserve for the great love of their life. For all the things he'd done to me, to my mother, to anyone that happened across his path, I made that horrible monster pay for it all. I remembered him begging, pleading, crying, telling me he was sorry for all that he'd done, that he'd change, that he'd be a better person, that he'd make life better, but I knew better, even at that young age, I knew better, I knew a man like him had no chance of becoming more then he was more then he is right now, filth, pure filth. And I made him know exactly what he was before he died there in that rotten old house deep in the land of southern gothic tragedies. I remember reading a newspaper report when his body was found almost a year later that the heat and humidity in that little tin oven of a house, had caused his body to bloat and swell and eventually pop like a balloon. I remember thinking the smell of all that bile and fluid, fat and rotten meat and body waist had to be something that wouldn't be soon forgotten. Fitting really if you ask me.

That is where my story really begins, it was 1965 and I was a 13 year old who took his dead father's truck and just started to drive until there was a sign from above where he was to go. This is just the start of the gospel of Mikhal Bezalel, the man some call mad, that others call pure evil, even more call a cold blooded killer, but I would wager just as many call me a savior sent to guide us all to the promised land, just as The Metranon told me I was to do.

After I left home, I drove around carefully avoiding the police pulling me over and discovering that I was underage and driving, just as I had done for my father when he was too drunk to drive himself anywhere, doing work where I could to spread the word of god to the masses, many times I'd be promoted as a “special youth preacher” or something along those lines, I'd be paid a small amount to preach to the youth of each town I'd end up in, just enough for food and gas and alittle to keep to myself. The churches I would work at all knew what I could do, they called me a miracle, and would also use me to help and “save” the more troubled members of their flocks, drug addicts, rapists, alcoholics, pedophiles, harlots and prostitutes, you name it, if they felt they could be saved by my extreme methods, they would be brought to me, I would look into their minds, I would see their sins, their dark secrets, and with in their mind, I would create a room where I could stand with them as they faced their inner demons, for those I believed could be saved, I would stand with them and help them stay strong, and for those I saw with out any hope of salvation, I would use those things they hide deep down in the darkness as weapons to make them suffer, to make them see how horrible they are, how much of a waist they are, and in the end, if they could handle their sins, their darkness, then I would let them live, to become a better person, but if I felt they were weak and would return to what they were, then before I left their mind, I'd shut them down for good, one less wasted life using air that the good of the world could use.

As I grew up and traveled around this way, I began to believe what The Metranon had told me, that I was to be the first in an army of warriors sent from heaven to clean this world, to make it better, to remake it in the image it was ment to have become in the first place, in the image of a paradise that god himself deemed worthy, and a people deemed worthy enough to spend their lives in a blissful servitude in his name, and I was to be the first solider, at the crest of the first wave of purity, a duty that would earn me a place of high standing in the kingdom of god almighty. It wasn't a glamorous task, but I would be rewarded in the end.

At the age of 17, in the year of my lord jesus christ 1969, the most high god almighty sent me a gift, a reward for my service, a reward that not only gave me someone who understood my methods and means, but could help me in my quest. God sent me a young woman by the name of Nastashja Mondragon, and like me, she had a gift given to her by god, and though her gift was nothing at all like mine, she knew of me, she tracked me down, and told me she wished to help me in my mission. And with her power to make things infinitely larger on the inside regardless of their exterior, we got ourselves an old 12 man army tent, which she would use her power to make immensely larger inside, and we found our way into the ownership of a large old shipping van to use as our home and office, and with that, we began our journey in early March of 1969, a journey that as fate would have it, put us and our traveling ministry in the small town of White Lake, New York, near the farm of a man named Max Yasgur, on August 15th of that same year. I had no idea that what I'd do just three days later, on August 18th would not only change the world, but make my name and my mission known through out every household in the world. I was simply doing what god had told me to do, not anything more, I wasn't looking for fame or fortune or notice for my work, I simply wanted to do my duty to the lord almighty, I had no idea of this festival that would be known as Woodstock, and I had no intention of it becoming the massacre that it became, but when I saw what was going on there, what they were doing, right out there in the open, with no shame, no self respect, and in clear defiance of all that god demands we do to keep with in his good graces, I had no real choice, I had no other option but to lock those disgusting horrific addiction riddled piles of waist matter the world called “hippies” inside their twisted infected minds until they just shut down on their own. It still sickens me to this very day when I talk of all I saw over those three days watching them, seeing if there was anything worth saving in them as a whole. It was the first time Tina had seen me use more then just a fraction of my power, and I remember the look on her face as I stood there on that hillside glowing red like the fury of hell itself, just to make these people pay for straying from the righteous path. I had no idea I was to make them an example but that must have been why god sent me to that den of debauchery and sin in the first place, to show the world that his first solider of the new world was here, and was making his mission here on earth known. I was here to save the world from itself, and whatever I needed to do to make that happen, I will do it, all the blood on my hands will be absolved when my mission is complete and I take my place in the high command of heaven. I didn't care that the world knew my name, and that there was a price on my head for what I had done, those people deserved what they got, they were wasting their lives and would have killed themselves on their own with out my help, I just did it sooner rather then later. I didn't care that it put a target on my back, god, and those who believed in his word, and in my mission that he sent me on, would keep me and Tina safe, and for many years they did.

My downfall, as the books and documentaries written about me have said, was the fact that though I was aware I was a wanted man, I never took time to actually watch a newscast, believing television to be a tool used to take us away from God and his path. I had no real idea what my actions had set into motion, or that all that came to the light because of me would be only half of the legacy I will leave the media of this world.. You see, until my actions in White Lake, in upstate New York, the world had no idea that every nation of the world had a special, until then secret branch of government, the United States government called theirs “The Department Of Enhanced Humans Research And Security”, and its main purpose was to gather as many people with special powers that were native or living in that country's boarders, and to use their powers to the greater good of that nation and its security, as well as good will and missions of mercy and the like. The US Government had to reveal that such an organization existed, and that it had annexed a rural valley in southern New Hampshire as its base of operations. I remember as a child reading the comic books and seeing the old movie serials of The Comet And The Gifted 50th Battalion, the first superpowered unit in military history. All of this was kept quiet from the public, the fact there were special powered people out there, and not just a result of an allied forces experiment like they claimed The Comet and his unit were said to be in newscasts. Not only did the US government admit this program was real, but also explained that they were using a unit from this program to find me. And that is the second half of the legacy I leave will be the much typed, talked about and speculated manhunt that these special powered agents of the government went on to find me, and to bring me to justice, well, man's justice anyway, though I refuse to abide by the concept of a human's court, there is only one law and judge we have in this world and thats god almighty.

Having no television and only listening to non-music related programing on the radio, I had no idea any of this was going on. I had no idea I was being hunted and spoken of on new programs, mocked on the late night chat programs, and by some, even idolized, I knew nothing of any of this. And that, as I said, would be my downfall.

In the year of our lord most high 1976, in a field outside of the town of Booneville, Kentucky, as me and Tina slept in our motor home we had been given only two years before by a man who sheltered and fed us for almost 7 months in the town of Amity, Missouri as repayment for saving his life and putting him on the right path to salvation. I remember when they came for us outside of that small Kentucky town it was early in the morning, early as in before the sun came up, and I had finally gotten myself to sleep after a long into night evening sermon that lead to an me doing a large scale display of my power, to prove that I was indeed on a mission from god. I have no problem showing the world what I can do, it just leaves me drained after a large scale showing. Maybe it was just timing, or maybe it was all planned out, I'm not really sure anymore which it really was, but that was the moment the government had chosen to strike at me, I would later find out they'd sent many operatives in to get a feel of what I was and what they were dealing with for well over a week before they took me down. I never saw it coming, I really should have, I let God down by now noticing before hand. I was brought into custody of the united states government on June 25th 1976, the day my mission changed and Tina and I were sent down a different path, one we still walk to this day.

I was caught by a unit specially trained for dealing with people with unique powers codenamed “The Problem Solvers”, they were lead by a human with no powers named Tobias Lofton, a dark skinned fellow who normally stayed in a protective mobile base of operations where he would monitor and orchestrate missions, a man named Timothy Ellis called “Switch” as in the fact he can turn someone's powers off like a lightswitch if he feels its needed. Edison Levine, a man that can grow in size and power to roughly 100 feet tall, they called him “Titan”. Samantha Bruno, a woman who could teleport one or a group of people short distances or as far as the other side of the world, they called her “Blink”. Ashley Parker, a woman who's intelligence is off the recordable scale and has an ability to talk too, as well as create and upgrade technological things, they called her “Gadget”. A human with no powers by the name of Nicademus Calhoun, he is a lieutenant commander in the US Army, I'd assume he's the military liaison, they call him “The Deer Hunter”, I'd assume because of his skill at hunting and tracking as well as being a crack shot from what I've seen. And the unit was headed up by a man named Chris Collins, whom they call “The Grimm Reaper” and I've personally seen him show atleast 5 powers personally; flight, telepathy, telekinetics, super strength, and firing some kind of energy blasts from his hands, when I would ask him how many powers he had, Mr. Collins would just say “Alot more then you'll ever know.” and then would look away and act as if I wasn't there. My power doesn't really work on him, which alarms me, I assume he's one of those Alphas they talk about with more then one power, maybe one of them is blocking or negating other powers, I don't really know, I know I don't really care much for him honestly.

I would cross paths with Mr. Collins again 4 years later in 1980, he would come to the military facility where they were keeping Tina and I under house arrest in a specially designed building that was ment to dampen both of our powers. I guess the military treats prisoners that are unique differently then they do the rest of them. It was august 3rd 1980 when Chris Collins came to visit Tina and Myself, he came to us offering us a job, apparently the problem solvers were dissolved after a mission went wrong, and he was looking to recruit a new group to handle the “rogue element” as he called it, those who have powers that either can't control them willingly or choose to use them for wrong doing. When I asked what happened to the rest of The Problem Solvers he just said “Tobias, Nic and I are still onboard, Gadget's gone home for good, Blink is missing in action, and Ellis and Edison are dead. We found what we were told was a small time street gang using their powers to make themselves big time players in the underworld, but it wasn't, it was a whole syndicate of underground operations of gifted people thieves and killers for hire. In the end it was a very bloody, very horrible scene, and its best left in the past, but basically, we were told with the loss of life and scale this went wrong, the surviving members of the group were ordered to disband and offered dishonorable discharge if we felt the need to leave, Blink is listed as AWOL because we can't locate her.” he looked at me with a dark cold stare, I found it perplexing that someone would try to look into the eyes of one like me, but a lot of things in this world confuse me. After telling me this story, is when he offered Tina and Myself spots with in his new unit which he hadn't had a name for yet, I told him I would think about it. He just looked at me and said “The world could use your power for good, instead of just your twisted idea of whats right for the world, all you were doing was helping to destroy it, this world your cherished god created, with all the fear and hate you've been spreading around, claiming its in the name of god.... Ask yourself, would god want you to divide the population rather then unite them?” and then he walked out. I never did get back to him on that offer, though I wrestled with the question he left me with for a long period of time, after all, I was under house arrest, there wasn't a lot else to do except read the papers, listen to the radio and watch some television for lack of things to do when not praying. It would be six more years before I saw Mr. Collins again to give him the answer to his question. After all, all we had to do here in this prison cell made to look like a home, was think. Well think and watch Wheel of Fortune, because you have to do something to keep from blowing your brains out while waiting for god to break you out of jail, might as well spin the wheel.

I remember how out of sorts I was for those many years, with my power dampened, I had no way of god speaking to me, no way of him telling me what was and wasn't the right thing to do, I was a solider in a prisoner of war camp, just waiting for someone to come along and liberate me, or for Jane Fonda to come along and sell me out to the Vietcong. I started to wonder, as I read the papers and watched the news programs of the day, it seemed my message, my path of vengeance or any of the many other things they called it in the news, was fading from the public memory, as I faded into the past of the popular culture of the day, becoming obscure references on late night comedy shows and talk shows, and referenced on debate programs by people who didn't really understand what I stand for, but what want sound like they do. I began to become angry. Angry at the world for forgetting all I taught it, for forgetting the word of god that I spread as I traveled this country, angry at all those who claimed to support me, because not one of them took up my calling when I was locked away. Angry at myself for letting my life and my message become the stuff of satire and the stuff of punchlines. Angry at the fact that everything is getting worse in the world, not better. Angry at myself for letting all of this happen, and angry at God for making me sit here in this confinement unit instead of allowing me to continue my mission. For the first time, in all of my years of his service, I started to feel angry and resentful, and start to wonder if there really was a god, or if he was just some comic book like character created to keep us all in line somehow. I prayed every single day from that moment on that I would be given an answer.

On May 14th in the year of the lord almighty 1986, I got an answer to that prayer, it came with a new mission, and a new meaning in life. That was the day Chris Collins returned, this time with a man named Franklyn Morrison-White, a non-powered human who was recently put in charge of a now publicly known facility thats the size of an entire valley that was annexed in the 1950s up in south western New Hampshire for government use and settlement, its called The Windy Row Enhanced Human Research Facility, its sort of part military installation, part research facility of all kinds, and part haven for those like Mr. Collins, Tina and me. They had come to offer Tina and myself a new mission in life, one that would allow us to spread my word to the world, but one that would also allow the government use of our unique gifts if a situation where one of our powers is needed, as well as the ability to roam freely with in the confines of the facility and the on site town that its become, its sort of like those old company towns in the 1800s, but different, they claimed that until I could prove myself trustworthy though, I would need to have a system of nanomachines injected into me to keep me from going on another murder spree. Though I was not happy with the idea of not being trusted, but we would have to put full trust with in those around us, I felt I had grown tired and weary of life with in this shoebox that suppressed both mine and Tina's abilities, I missed feeling a real breeze, real sunlight, fresh flowing water and grass beneath my feet. And that was when I started to consider their offer to come and live among our own kind, in a paradise of our own making, where I would be allowed to stand on a pulpit and speak the word of god to all who come to listen every single week, with out fear of political games or censorship, I felt that maybe this might be the next step in my mission that god had given me, to minister to those he sent below with special powers, just like Tina and myself. I have roared my message like a lion, maybe now, I should speak it like a man, maybe thats what god wanted for me next in this world, a different approach that wouldn't leave me in prison and seen as some insane mass murderer.

I asked why I was being given this offer, if it was part of my jail term or something else. Mr. Morrison-White told me that it would completely wipe my prison term, but that it wasn't an exchange, it just happens that the Windy Row Facility is in need of a new catholic priest, for the last one was with out powers, and for some reason has decided that he can not preach to a flock of what he feels are abominations sent by the devil to make the world's faith in god less. “And thats where you come in Mikhal..” Chris Collins says, “We feel that, as a man that believes as passionately in your beliefs as you are, and who has a power himself, and is with a woman who has one as well, maybe you would be the right choice.” he says. I look at him “Mr. Collins, you once called me nothing more then a murderer who had a mental illness. What makes you feel anything different after all this time?” I say, “Simple..” he says, “Everyone deserves a second chance.” he says to me. I look at him confused “And you believe this is my second chance? And what if I choose to leave and return to my mission?” I ask, Chris has a wide smile on his face and says, “Well, if thats what you feel you wish too do, you're welcome to leave...” he says, and then before I can answer him he says, “but that means I'll be free to hunt you down and kill you in a very public way.... and then have sex with your wife in front whoever is watching as whats left of you rains down from the sky... so yes, you're allowed to leave and return to your old ways if you wish, but remember what will happen to you if you do.” Chris says with a smile. “Hmm..” I say “So its trading one prison for another? Just one is less like one then the other...” as I look at both of them. “The offer is on the table Mr. Bezalel, if you wish to pick it up, you are more then welcome too...” Mr. Morrison-White says, but before you say no, have a look at the church that has been constructed for you..” he says “Constructed?” I ask, “We have a man who can alter solid matter on a molecular level, which means he can change buildings and cars and all sorts of things like that, when Mr. Collins suggested you, he then showed this man a picture of the church he felt you would like most. Personally, I agree with the design.” Mr. Morrison-White says, “What do you mean?” I asked puzzled.

“Though you have taken my visits to you here as tournamentive or some other ungodly thing or another. I've been studying you, and after you turned down my offer the last time I offered to give you a means out of this place, I started looking into you as a person, because honestly, I hate to see any of us locked away, unless they are undeserving of a second chance...” Mr. Collins says, “And... you believe I am worthy of a second chance, really?” I say to him. “I wouldn't have ever been here in the first place if I didn't, I don't waist my time with things not worth doing.” Chris snapped at me. I look at the two of them, then I look over at Tina who seems to be wide eyed at the idea of getting out of this cell that doesn't look like a cell. “Let me see the building..” I say. Mr. Morrison-White slides me a folder with pictures of a giant gothic structure, with a sign outfront that says “Teampall nan Crò Naomh” on it. I look at them with a smirk, “In Olde Scottish that name means “Church Of The Holy Blood”, interesting.... Someone reads my writing I see.” I say looking over at Chris. “Part of my job to know what all of those like you and me are up too... nothing more.” Chris says. I laugh. “Very well then, let me and Tina discuss this and we shall get you your answer...” I say as I get up and Tina and I head to another room to discuss the matter.

She tells me how she wants us to do this, how she's been locked away in here to long, and if we can use this as a means to spread the word of god to the masses, and maybe this time do it in a less violent manner, then maybe this is the way to go, maybe god sent us here for all the time to punish us for how we drove people away from the faith with our old way of doing business, or maybe to show us that its his message, not our way of sending it, is whats important. Ofcourse she's right, and I admit this to her, and well, she deserves to feel the real grass under her feet, and not this synthetic box that we're living in. I know that for her, more then anything, its time to admit that this might have been god's way of punishing us for our past. And ofcourse, for her, and for our mission to return the world to what god told me to do, I have no other choice but to agree with what these men are offering me. So I walk back into the room and accept their offer with a firm handshake from both of them, we work out when and where to set up our transfer. Its agreed that Mr. Collins and his compatriots Tobias Loften and Nicademus Calhoun would transfer us to Windy Row in three days, giving us time to pack properly and to properly. I joked about what they would do if we tried to escape, Chris laughed and said he'd just kill us on the spot, I'm really not sure if he was joking or not, he's a hard person to read.

We arrived here at Windy Row, May 17th in the year of our lord 1986, Tina and I left this box for the first time in just about 10 years, and for the first time, we felt the wind and sun on our faces, you really don't understand how good freedom is until its taken from you, and for the first time in 10 years, I was able to use my power again, I could feel it, I could sense it, and I felt I had made the right choice, a decade locked away with out being able to use something that is a part of yourself is a horrible thing, its like trying to use an arm that was cut off or something, we were told it would take afew weeks before our powers came back to full strength, given how long we'd been in that deprivation cell. And that is how this new, second gospel of Mikhal Bezalel begins, not soley as a tool of vengeance and hellfire, but as a man that can understand just how far one can go with their powers, and maybe thats what I was picked for, and why I was sent here at this time. Maybe thats what my whole journey has been for, to make me understand what all of these could that seek my help might need to deal with. After all, if this world has people like me in it, someone is gonna need to keep them alined with the grace of god....


----