March 31, 2017 · 6:13 pm
Howard Pyle
New; Knew
–
I Don’t Know If Its New,
But I Do Know It Was New To me;
Nor Had I Ever Heard
Such a Thing Described To me.
For I Don’t Believe
They Are From This World or Any Other.
Demons Ripped From Another Dimension;
Nightmares Rendered Real.
Crazy I Know.
That Is Why I am Writing This,
Because Only On Paper
Can I UnLeash
This Torrent of Conflicting Emotion.
To Try To Make Some Sense of It,
To UnBurden my Mind,
Because Sex & Drink
Just Doesn’t Make It.
the First Time
I Was Drifting Through Some Southern Towns
& I Came Upon It,
In a Glass Case;
a Human Brain
With Filaments
Like Spiders’
Legs
& It Spoke To me,
In my Brain of Its Need to ImPregnate me.
I Escaped & Returned to Kill It
& Its Keeper.
Once Again
When I Was Working
As a Carny In a Run Down Town,
I Dealt Death to Another
In the Visage of An InSane Clown.
Nothing In the News Papers,
No Bounty On my Head;
I Know I Killed Them;
I Know Their Dead.
I Don’t Want to Go Back;
I Don’t Know If I Should.
Scared,
Edgy,
Shot Gun By the Bed;
Crazy,
MayBe;
I Can’t Get Them Out Of my Head.
I Can’t Stay I Have To Go.
Wait;
What Was That,
a Knock On the Door.
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as Another, B27321, Back, Because, Bed, Believe, Bounty, Brain, Can’t, Carny, Case, Clown, Conflicting, Crazy, Dead, Dealt, Death, Demons, Described, Dimension, Discord, Don't, Door, Down, Drifting, Drink, Edgy, Emotion, Escaped, Filaments, First, Freedom, From, Glass, Go, Gun, Harbinger, Head, Heard, Howard Pyle, Human, ImPregnate, InSane, Keeper, Kill, Killed, Knew, Knock, Know, Legs, Like, Make, Maybe, Mind, Need, New, News, Nightmares, Nor, Nothing, Once, Paper, Papers, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Real, Rendered, Returned, Revolution, Ripped, Run, Scared, Sense, Sex, Shot, Slavery, Southern, Spiders’, Spoke, Through, Time, Torrent, Town, Towns, Try, UnBurden, Upon, Visage, Wait, Want, What, Why, Working, World, Writing, Wyrd
March 11, 2017 · 2:32 pm
Jean-Léon Gérôme
How Much
–
Fukushima Was the Beginning Of the End,
the Radiation Seeping Into Our Oceans;
Causing Mutations & InSanity;
From Fish to Man.
Driving Them to Feast On the UnInfected;
a World Damned.
I Still Dream Of the Food Riots,
When we Could No Longer Eat From the Sea.
the Crashing & Burning of Cities;
Parents Eating Kids.
Cops Going Door to Door
Rounding People Up For the Cattle Camps,
the Old & Sick Shot
& Cooked In the Street.
How I Survived Still Mystifies,
aLone & Not One Friend;
All Ways Running,
Running For the Hills.
So Many Things Have I Done
& the Things I Know I Will Do
Just To Survive Another Setting Sun.
How Many Lives Must I Take
to Pay For Mine.
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as Alone, Another, Beginning, Burning, Camps, Cattle, Cattle Camps, Causing, Cities, Cooked, Cops, Crashing, Damned, Done, Door, Dream, Driving, Eat, Eating, End, Feast, Fish, Food, Food Riots, Friend, Fukushima, Hills, How, How Much, Insanity, Jean Léon Gérôme, Kids, Lives, Man, Many, Mine, Much, Must, Mutations, Mystifies, Not, Oceans, Old, One, Parents, Pay, People, Prose, Radiation, Riots, Rounding, Running, Sea, Seeping, Setting, Setting Sun, Shot, Sick, So, Still, Street, Sun, Survive, Survived, Take, UnInfected, World
March 8, 2017 · 9:18 pm
Gustave Dore
Fuck, Fuck; Fucked
–
To be
Fucked
Is What
It Means
to Cross me.
the Bitter
Sting
Of
the Raping
by Pen
& Prose.
As
I Ram
my Cock
Down
the Throat
Of you
Dirty Hoes
& the
InSanity
In me
Giggles
As you
Try
to Scream
No.
In & Out,
In & Out,
While
I Fuck
your Mouth;
Gurgle
& Moan.
the Rape
Of
your Brain
With Rhymes
That Won’t
Slow,
Till
a Quivering
Wreck
Is All
That’s Left.
a Twisted
Bit
of Crumpled
Paper;
Wasted.
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as All, B27321, Bit, Bitter, Bitter Sting, Brain, Cock, Cross, Crumpled, Crumpled Paper, Dirty, Dirty Hoes, Discord, Down, Freedom, Fuck, Fucked, Giggles, Gurgle, Gustave Dore, Harbinger, Hoes, In, Insanity, Left, Moan, Mouth, No, Out, Paper, Pen, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Quivering, Ram, Rape, Raping, Revolution, Rhymes, Scream, Slavery, Slow, Sting, Throat, Till, Try, Twisted, Twisted Bit, Wasted, What, While, Won't, Wreck, Wyrd
March 6, 2017 · 9:41 pm
Jean-Léon Gérôme
Hate
Is the
Slate
That Tallies
my Wrongs
Filed under Posts
Tagged as B27321, Discord, Freedom, Harbinger, Hate, Jean Léon Gérôme, Poetry, Prison, Revolution, Slate, Slavery, Tallies, Wrongs, Wyrd
March 5, 2017 · 1:45 pm
Howard Pyle
Shards
of Agony
& How
we Bleed;
the Past,
Imprisoning
Filed under Posts
Tagged as Agony, B27321, Bleed, Discord, Freedom, Harbinger, How, Howard Pyle, Imprisoning, Past, Poetry, Prison, Revolution, Shards, Slavery, Wyrd
