Henry Fuseli
Tag Archives: Children
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Howard Pyle
Mickey’s Christmas Hit Men
–
Empire
–
Walt
is your
Daddy
&
Mickey
has Come
to Collect
#B27321
–
Mickey Is
What He’s All Ways Been
a Hit Man
For the Disney Mob.
Whether He’s Playing
the Pencil Pushing Hapless Scribe;
Meek & Needy,
So Poor He Doesn’t Have a Dime
or As an Enforcer
For the King of Crime.
He Was Working
For Ebenezer
the Richest Duck
In All the Land
& to Get the Money
for Walt
He Had a Devious Plan.
Drive That Scrooge
to InSanity
With Pity & ReMorse
at All the Dirty Deeds
That Have Bloodied
His Red Hands,
Because you See
Wealth
Was the Source
of All His Wicked Pride.
Forcing All the Children
to Work For Him
Not Disney
In His Hellish Mine,
Starving
as They Worked
Cannibalism
Would Break Out
From Time to Time.
Laughing At the Shillings
He Would Save
When the Killings
Began Again
Maybe Even
This Very Day.
Did He Reminisce
About the Many Rivals
He Had Killed
aLong His Long Black Past.
Namely,
That Goofy Jacob Marley
He Garroted
With His Own Two Fists
or That Whore
He Loved
Named Daisy
Who Gave Him
a Horrible Fit
of the Drip
& How About
When He Sold His Soul
to the Agent of Satan;
the Mighty Mr. Toad.
Who He Killed Out of Envy
to Gain the Formers Role
to Live As Long As Ever
If He Never Lost Control.
He Had Minnie
& Timmy
& Even the Giant Willie
to Help Him Carry Out
His Evil Scheme
to Put That Duck Through the Ringer
& Squeeze Out Every Thing.
For Only Two Choices
Does He Have
Visit Him
With Three Dark Sins
or Put Him In a Can.
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/149484/mickey-s-christmas-hit-men
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Spencer Stanhope
Crimson Queen
–
Satan; Adversary,
Lucifer; Morning Star,
but She was Older much Older.
Older Than the Castrating Cult
of the Great Mother;
Cybele,
She Was the Oldest
& Greatest of Gods,
She Was Eros;
Desire,
the Crimson Queen.
& We,
my Family & I
Have Served Her
Since Man
First Crawled From the Wild.
We Who Have Suckled From Her Tit.
Who Have Known Her
As Pandora
& Again
As Eve.
We Were There
When the Walls of Troy Fell
& Again
When We Pierced the White Gods Side.
We Are the Ones
Said to Wear the Mark;
the Mark of Cain;
the Spear
& to This Day
We Are Still Known
As the Sons of the Dragon.
Yes,
Even He
of the Impaling Fist
Served Her;
Her
Blood Red Bliss.
She Who Came to Us
When the Moon Was Swollen,
Swollen With Sin
& Desire
Desire
Like Fire.
a Fire to Sear your Soul
& Strip your Sanity.
Bacchanalian Rites
of the Blackest Kind,
Orgies
of Mutilation & Murder.
She Would Stroll Through
Some Times Stopping
to Touch a Subjects Head.
As Her Worshippers
Offered Up Their Bloody Sacrifices;
Dripping Mangled Manhood.
Blood Wine
Heaped With Herbs
of the Darkest Sort,
Flesh of the Fallen;
Man,
Beast,
or Child;
Was the Feast We Had.
Screams of Agony & Ecstasy
In the Torch Light,
the Scarlet Flames Illuminating
Hellish Flickering Scenes
of Satanic Night.
She Covered In the Blood of the Devout,
Licking Her Fingers
Bouncing About
All Eyes & Thighs,
Tits & Ass.
Tonight I Was to Receive my Birth Right.
Ouroboros; the Snake Circle,
So Driven by Desire
It Eats Its Own Tail;
to Take the Place of my Father,
I the Oldest Surviving Son In an UnBroken Line
Since Life Began.
I to Sit Upon Her Left Side
& He
to Cross Over
& Serve Her In Her Own Land;
Hand Picked Children
In the Image
of Lillith.
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/147052/crimson-queen
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
H.P. Lovecraft In 1915
The Eerie Music of H.P.
–
The Voids & Gulfs It Held In Trance.
Of Outer Gods, Demons, Devils,
& Human Headed Rats.
Of Cemetery Yards & the Animated Damned;
Trilling Throats Offer Up
Kə-THOO-Loo’s
Hideous Demands;
Human Sheep UnWilling Flesh Bags.
Allowing His Eyes to Focus & His Mind to Mingle,
as He Sits In the Deep, Deep;
Seeking to Throw Off Time’s Sleep.
Searching, Questing For the Lost Lullaby
of Dominion Over Man.
Written by the Hand of the Master Zann.
So His Children of the Sea Can Thrive, Breed,
& Hold Sway Once Again.
Starving Not Just For the Souls of Man,
But the Meat In All Its Many Forms;
In your Inner Most Dreams He Creeps,
Pulling you With In His Reach.
–
Taken From
the Private
Journals
of #B27321
Last Son
of a
Fallen Line
–
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1340827-monthly-short-fiction-contest—win-a-50-amazon-gift-card-or-paypal-pri?comment=129279318&page=4#comment_129279318
Filed under Posts
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Gustave Dore
Children
Shall I
Recite my
Tales
Of
a Failing
Father
of a
Son
&
Daughter
Only Laughter
At the
Jest
Of a
Name
I Can
not Claim
Things
That Will
Haunt me
to the
Here After
#B27321
Filed under Topics
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
What Strange
Theories
do you have
about this World?
Evariste Vital Luminais
Slaves
to Mine
&
Rape
the Earth
our Mother
#B27321
Are we
not
her Children
Does not
Intellect
alone
Separate
us
From our
Brethren
the Beast.
Filed under Topics
