Creeva’s World 2.0

It seems that we cant’ do enough these days to always fully real­ize those that are close to us. Things change and we don’t get to do all the things we want to or say what we can. 7 years ago I lost my best friend to an auto­mo­bile acci­dent. I had never thought I would be a pall bearer so early in my life.

I could go on and say alot about Joe, but I feel it’s more suited for him to talk about him­self in the lit­tle bit of writ­ing I still have copied away of his. I had saved these on a web page seven years ago and they had man­aged to sur­vive. I fig­ured now is the time to make sure they stay saved and not lost into the Inter­net oblivion.

The orig­i­nal site is here

The fol­low­ing con­tains I wrote or Joe wrote (his is in Bold) all those years ago:

A Trib­ute To Joe Cyrek

5–14-81 — 6–1-00

Screw The Beer We Have Everclear

Joe was a good friend, a lit­tle brother, a lov­ing son, a gifted writer and artist. He was some one I could call on if I needed a hand, as he was to most peo­ple. These pages are designed for you, the read­ers, to share mem­o­ries of him. If any­one has any thoughts and sto­ries they would like to share I will post them under the mem­o­ries sec­tion. For us that are still in mourn­ing and still will be some­what for the rest of our lives remem­ber what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.….….sometimes though I wish I was a lit­tle weak.

For every­one on me about get­ting this done I hope you under­stand that deal­ing and get­ting through this is one of the most painful things I have done in my life. I haven’t got my tatoo yet, but I will…that hap­pens to be more of a money issue than any­thing else. I hope other peo­ple con­tribute pic­tures and mem­o­ries of Joe oth­er­wise this web site will con­tinue to stay very small.

Sin­cerely

Brent M. Gueth

Joe was not just a poet he was an avid writer of any kind. He was sup­posed to be my Gothic style web page designer. He just wanted to write, he had a dream of going to col­lege and becom­ing a reporter or free­lance writer. Please take the time to read his writ­ing and appre­ci­at­ing his unique style. The first is an intro of Joe’s Alter-Ego Damien Puck­Draven Darkling.

Well the best way to begin is to intro­duce myself. I am…
Damian Puck­Draven Darkling.

I am a rare breed. I am a mor­tal vam­pire along with dark­ling decent.
I am just of the young age of six­teen, yet I have seen much of this cruel world and have been through hell and back. Yet I do not regret a moment of it. As a mat­ter of fact I rather think I enjoyed my life thus far, always won­der­ing what tomor­row had in store for me. I love life on the edge of insan­ity. I have only recently come to under­stand my type of life I am liv­ing. It is not as dark and gloomy as the fic­tional books and movies make it seem to be. It is rather much more clear, yes much more clear through my eyes. It just changes your whole view of life, it just makes every small thing hold some form of inter­est, no mat­ter how small and triv­ial it may be. It sill some how holds a wide spec­trum of inter­est. Now I must get back to the sub­ject at hand to tell a so called chap­ter of my life.

It all started upon the god­for­saken night of Octo­ber 31st. I was in the com­pany of three friends, and for per­sonal rea­sons, some will be given false names. The two females were Kat and Selissa, and then there was Sam, Selissa’s boyfriend at the time. Me and my Kat were also together at the time, soul mates. Yet in secret my once beloved friend selissa had other plans for me…she wanted me for her own. As for me, some strange rea­son my insides screamed no, not to get involved with her. Yet she did suc­cess­fully tear me and my beloved Kat apart. Until this day I don’t know why I allowed this to hap­pen. So it was a lovely night and we were out ter­ror­iz­ing the town, even though my town is noth­ing more than a speck on the planet, we still had our times. The nor­mal scar­ing of the neigh­bor­hood chil­dren to death, out thrill to watch them cry.

Oh how I miss those days, run­ning with the dark­ness, it was the best time of my life, no our lives… So now back to the task at hand, we are all now sep­a­rated and rel­a­tively hate one another. The sad part is that Selissa did this to ben­e­fit her­self, and she lost also. Yet what she did not account for is that I am not a nor­mal per­son to be messed with and my and my Kat still love one another as the best of friends. Now has come a time to teach a long over­due les­son to Selissa and the other one who tried to harm me, Eve­len. Eve­len tried to get into my mind and then got it will to her dis­may it did not work, yet she will pay. They both shall pay for their sins of cor­rup­tion, deceit, and inflicted pain. Now comes the time for me and my Kat to have our revenge, and oh how chaotic is shall be. I want to reek such a havoc upon them, yet you must under­stand that there is a mil­lion things worse than death, and I know them all.

I now will let you have a slight glimpse into my mind. I am one of a dark souled decent, yet not so dark that I can’t see the light of real­ity. I enjoy the stranger side of life, well not only because of the fact I drink blood, but also with that aside, I am still dif­fer­ent from the rest of human­ity. I was born to be this and am glad to try and fit the shoes of the olden times Dark­ling lifestyles and beliefs. I am a kind of Dark­ling that enjoys pain, and knows the best ways to inflict it upon oth­ers. Yet I will not harm you unless you try to harm me first. After you try that, you are fair game to me and all my insan­ity. “I think the splash of blood is divine, and if you are my enemy I shall drink your blood like wine.” This I strongly believe in, so don’t test it unless you do not value your life.

Here are a few of Joe’s poems:

A CANDLE BURNS AT BOTH ENDS AND WILL NOT LAST THE NIGHT. BUT ALL MY FRIENDS AND ALL MY FOES, IT DESCENDS A LOVELY LIGHT. UPON THE HOUR OF TWILIGHT’S EVE I SHALL STILL HAVE ONE ACE HIDDEN UP MY SLEEVE. AS A DARKNESS CRAWLS ACROSS THE LAND THERE IS STILL ONE TRUE GOLDEN MOMENT OF GOLDEN BEAUTY IN THIS GODFORSAKEN MAN. NOTHING PURE IS LEFT IN THIS SOUL, SO ALL I LOVE AND ALL I HATE ARE OF NO MEANING ANY LONGER. FEELING OH SO LOST AND SO ALONE AND EVER SO NUMB. LONELY A LIFE IS IT IF YOU CAN NOT TRUST. I DO NOT AND MAY NEVER TRUST AGAIN.

BITE THE BULLET

FREAKS CREED-WE MAY BE FEW BUT WE ARE STRONGER THAN ALL.
WE MAY TAKE ON THE WORLD AND WE WILL FALL FROM GRACE,
BUT WE WILL TAKE THIS WORLD WITH US A WORLD ENGULFED IN FLAMES.
YES WE MAY FALL TO THE BOTTOM BUT THAT IS WHERE WE THRIVE
THE WORLD WILL COME WITH US AND IN OUR LOSS THE OTHERS WILL GAIN
NOTHING BUT RECYCLED PAIN. AGONY IS SUCH A STRENGTH TO THE ESTRANGED.
TO THRIVE HERE IS TO SIMPLY SURVIVE
TO LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE YOU ARE HATED FOR WHAT YOU ARE AND WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN,
IT IS SAD.
ONE DAY WE WILL THRIVE AND CONTROL THIS WORLD.
THEN IT WILL BE FREE TO BE WHO YOU ARE.

MaLkA­vAiN
MaDnEsS

WeLl Im MuSt SaY We ArE NoT DoInG TO InSaNE LaT­lEy. As A MaT­tEr Of FaCt LaTeLy YoU AlL HaVe BeEN RaThEr SaNe AnD IM SiCk­ENd By This So I ImPlOrE YoU To JoiN Me In My MALKAVIAN OnSlaUgHt We MuSt OrGa­NiZe AnD Be A cLan AgAiN JoiN Me AnD ReMem­Ber YoUr INSANITY OR FORGET It I ThiNk . WeLL I LiKe JElLyBeaNS AnD SMall Kit­teNNS IN SoUP AND MiNi­TuRe HorsES NamEd WiLd BiLl MaKe NoT SeNSe. HAvE YoU DrI­vEn A HeBrEW LaTlEy?????

WeLl GooD ByE I MuSt Say Or Is IT No MoRe NoD­DlEs In A CaN Of SpOOnS I CaNt RemEM­bER AbOut ChiKeNs In SmaLL ShoEs .

LoVer
DiaB NiT­treL AnD HiS LeaChEs Of My BiG ToE

Shat­tered

Mad­ness and con­fu­sion tears and pulls at my soul
Now my final stand bro­ken I have no one to whom I can con­sul
My insane love has taken a heavy toll
Too heavy for me to be able to con­trol
And now my heart lay still upon my win­dow sill, black as coal
I am still falling through my col­lapsed dream
And pain, despair, sor­row, and con­fu­sion flow through my heart like a stream
The only thing heard is my dead soul’s silent scream
Then in a flash of moon­light, you can see my soul on its knees in the black light
Then out the twi­light, demons take flight
And the devil lays claim to my fallen soul
Whom no per­son, not even I myself could con­trol
Now my black heart remain still as it under the will of an unfore­seen soul
My soul can now only pray for rain to wash away its pain and for this it has no more then enough lonely time to kill
Here hours seem like days, while your soul spins around in a haze
You search for one thing to stand true, yet your last in your own mind’s haze.

Torn

Feel­ing oh so lost and alone, can’t help the one I love so dear. I can­not go home ’cause I must keep near. My soul feel­ing aban­doned and mis­treated. My heart is utterly defeated. Yet the hope holds true, oh so true. For the light inside still burns bright and my dear­est of friends will not give up the fight. Yet to see one so strong, in such a weak state, it burns my soul in two. I’m barely able to keep con­trol, doing this on my own. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. Being so strong for every­one else’s sake, yet want­ing to break down and fall apart.

Below is what I wrote about Joe all those years ago

My Per­sonal Mem­o­ries Of Joe

By

Brent M. Gueth

I first met Joe at the Haunted School­house in the 1996 sea­son, one of the best sea­sons as far as I am con­cerned. I was work­ing grave­yard in my usual fash­ion (a story for another time) get­ting a ton of scares, and in comes this idiot act­ing like he runs the place telling me that I am doing it all wrong, and this was a kid over 5 years younger than me. He told me his name was Joe Cyrek and he was sur­prised that I never heard of him (like most the egos of the school­house work). He started bang­ing a shovel across the entrance­way to grave­yard crawl­ing up the walls and hang­ing upside down from the garage door. I told him he was crazy and I would con­tinue doing things my own way, he shrugged his shoul­ders and wan­dered off to cause mis­chief some­where else in the maze and to hope­fully pester some­one else. After my acci­dent in the school­house (it goes along with that story for another time) I will say Joe’s way def­i­nitely influ­enced my method of work­ing the room. I was he idiot bang­ing the shovel against the entrance­way, crawl­ing up the walls, and hang­ing from the garage door. Not to let Joe’s ego get to big, he was not the sole influ­ence for this behav­ior, but he did give me a sec­ond per­spec­tive into how to work the room.

For the next cou­ple years I did not have much con­tact with him, see­ing I was semi retired from the School­house. I ran into here and there at the Moore res­i­dence and he always said hi. I said hi back, but I told my then Fiancée to ignore him and maybe he’ll go away. He kept try­ing to talk to us and when we left we would turn to one another and go is he your friend? I don’t talk to him so he’s not my friend.

In the 1999 School­house year a group of us were talk­ing of role-playing dun­geons and drag­ons at the end of the night. Well this guy (Joe) asked if he could come over and game with us. I told him that I didn’t’’ care, the more the mer­rier. He asked if he could crash over my place, I cleared it with Autumn, see­ing I didn’t want her to have to wake up with a stranger or strange per­son for that mat­ter in the house. Well he came over cre­ated an elven thief char­ac­ter, Damien Puck­Draven Dark­ling, with a dou­ble long sword – think Darth Maul with swords instead of the light saber.

He was real excited about get­ting to air­brush the sign of the school­house. It was almost like his com­ing of age at the school­house. He was one of my guides. Every night he wanted to bet that he would not get the first fiend award, we had to keep telling him that the award was for the younger gen­er­a­tion and he missed his chance once upon a time. He had a real fetish for glow in the dark make up and loved roaming/ work­ing the ramp.

At the end of every school­house night Joe came and stayed over and usu­ally we gamed I think he missed one night of gam­ing the whole sea­son. He became a con­stant fix­ture upon my couch. Some­times he stayed days on end always the thought­ful son check­ing in with his mother. We did a lot of things together but all in all not that much. We gamed went out about town which we all no is not much played video games, role-played, went to bor­ders, then around the begin­ning of Decem­ber Joe dis­ap­peared for about a month. There was an alter­ca­tion with another one of our friends who will remain name­less. Then around Jan­u­ary he started show­ing back up again. Autumn and him started com­pet­ing in Final Fan­tasy 8. The whole prob­lem I had with that is when one of them found some­thing the other had missed they restarted the game all over again, and it is a long ass game. We all saw Dogma together and I man­aged to get Joe on the boat that was Kevin Smith is the great­est thing ever.

Around Feb­ru­ary we started going to the Fly­ing Saucer Cof­fee Shop which many of you know was a big part of Joe’s life, he always talked about how cool it would be to work there. We usu­ally spent at least every Sat­ur­day they and a day or two dur­ing the week. His favorite bev­er­age was a 25 oz. Brian’s Comet. One time Sean bet him a free Brian’s Comet if Joe could drink the full 25 oz. one in less than 20 sec­onds. Joe did it in 17 sec­onds. He always said he was going to work to get it down to less than ten. He said the answer was a larger straw.

Joe always told big sto­ries want­ing you to think he was larger than life. In some ways he was, in other ways he seemed to feel inadequate.

He never wanted his fam­ily to know he smoked so he would always send me into Speed­way to buy his Marl­boros from his grand­mother Sandy.

Then there was Mar­con, the one thing that we had talked Joe into (not much talk­ing required), that we actu­ally fol­lowed through on. I was in a sep­a­rate car than the one Joe, Autumn, and Jonathan took down to Colum­bus. I rode with Grif­faw on the ride down. We left roughly 3 hours after they sup­pos­edly left. When we reached Ash­land I got a call on my cell phone, from Joe, that they needed the direc­tions again because they for­got to copy them down. They were only 45 min­utes ahead of us on I-71.

Look­ing back Joe and I never did a lot but we did things he loved, go to the cof­fee shop, role-played, watched Kevin Smith movies, we didn’t have to always go out and be off the wall. I really enjoyed just hang­ing out with him. He was one of my best friends.

these crw designs are what I am con­sid­er­ing for a tattoo

o

Here is what my sis­ter wrote — she was 12 at the time:

That is all I have — I wish there was more but there is mem­o­ries — more mem­o­ries then I can ever write up that are pre­cious to me. Joe left us before the days of myspace memo­ri­als and I don’t plan of doing any­thing like that. This post is enough — my affir­ma­tion that he is alive in my heart and think­ing about him can still make my eyes water. I have a pic­ture (the one my sis­ter used on her page) up in a spot I can see it every day in my house. Joe I feel is the guardian angel that sits over my shoul­der and keeps me from truly grow­ing up — I still hope one day even after all these years I will wake up and find out it was all a dream.

I still haven’t got that tat­too I promised — but I will — I promise that I will.