Rafael Flores
Tag Archives: Dead
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Howard Pyle
How the World Fell
–
They Said It Was an Invisible Planet,
They Were Wrong;
Dead Wrong.
It Was a Second Moon,
a Hellish Moon
to come Ripping Past;
Causing Cataclysmic Damage
& Eclipsing our Sun.
That Orb,
Like a Red Eye;
All Ways Watching,
Like a Scarlet Stain
At the Center of Our Sun;
Blocking a Quarter of It’s Light
& Giving Things a Crimson Cast.
Those That Did Not Die
When the Anarchy Hit,
Soon Perished
In the Floods & Famine
As Continents Took New Shapes
& the Food
& LiveStock
were Radically Changed
& Diminished.
For Food Did Not Grow Like It Once Did
& Animals Behaved Differently,
Confused,
Angry;
Much Like we Did,
but One Thing Did Do Well,
Rats,
Rats the Size of Large Dogs.
Hideous Pale Things
That Crawled From Their Holes
In the Night
& Ran Across
the Twisted Landscape
Bringing Death
& Disease.
Imagine If you Will
a Ruined Grave Yard
Where the Remnants of Humanity
Huddle
& Hide,
Ruled by Cadaverous Rats
Under a Pale Red Light.
That Is my Hell,
How the World Fell.
#B27321
–
https://api.theprose.com/post/185244/how-the-world-fell
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Henry Fuseli
First Timer
–
My Worst One Nighter
Followed me Down the Line of my Life.
When I First Fell Down That Well;
Old Was I Having Spent Most of Life In the Pen.
She Was a Present All Willow & Wine,
Fluid In Motion & What a Slick Grip.
a Real Home Coming In True Gangster Land Style
the Party Lasting Well Into Night.
me & Her Going At It Not Caring the Sight.
Stabbing & Stabbing With my Long Knife.
Dripping & Spent Then Into Her Mouth
a Grin Full of Sin & Back To the Mill.
Tired Was I After We Toweled & Dried.
Getting Into Bed I Thought This the Best It Ever Been.
It Was All So UnTrue As They Crept In my Room.
To Silence the Things Never Mouthed But I Knew.
Shoot Us They Did As I Used Her To Defend,
Bullets Cutting Through Her Turning Living Flesh To Dead.
Her Eyes Wide In Surprise As They Dripped Down my Thigh.
Night After Night That Is What I See
Endlessly Reminding That the Chunks Were a She.
An Ash Tray Was All I Could Find As I Used Her To Hide.
Kill Them I Did Again & Again
But Never Was I In Time.
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/168922/first-timer
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Henry Fuseli
Ravioli Knights
–
Infidelity
a Broken Ring,
a Vow
That Means
Nothing Now,
Lies
Like Spread Thighs;
Cottage Cheese For Seasoning.
True
That Should Have Been
Like Glue,
Not
Like Rot
Seven Seasons Dead.
In This Room
I Have Been Held
For the Murders of you
I Thought a Friend
& the Mob Who
Bought It
Trying For my Head.
Just me you See
With a Canned Good
Against you
& Three.
the Misery I With Stood
2 To the Chest
& One Beside the Eye.
Yes,
the 45 Caliber Kind.
to Drain & Die
On This Kitchen Floor
Was Not What I Was Made For.
If I Was to Die
It Was to Be In Battle Sweet
or Between the Legs
of a Lady Riding High.
Not Treachery
Both Foul & Deep.
Luring me With Sex & Song
to the Valley of Sleep;
Having Done
I Went For a Bottle of Beer
& Surprise Who Should I Meet
But 3 Long Shadows
Waiting There For me.
Flash,
Flash,
Flash,
Down I Was InDeed,
Blood Red Agony,
Not a Breath to Breathe,
Pain Bright Dizzying.
Laying There Wondering
If This Was the End For me,
the Vest Had Not Held
& Crimson Was Blossoming.
They Left to Check & See,
To Get the Stuff to Dismantle me.
In the Tub to Bleed
& Then the Cutting;
No, No,
Not For me
As I Slipped Ravioli In a Sock.
First,
I Came to Crush your Skull
my Lovely Little Girl.
Then the Man
Who Came to Gut me Like a Pig
& Then the 2
to Help Move.
It Was Such a Gristly Scene,
Had to Be Burning.
I Will Never Forget
That Night.
Standing Above
Those Broken Things
Screaming Triumphantly
As the Kerosene Burned Bright,
Ravioli Nights
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/154950/ravioli-knights
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Howard Pyle
Rejection; Depression
–
Rejection
a Word
I Know
All too Well,
a Word
That Has Burned a Hole;
Marked my Soul.
Driven me To be a Lone.
Never to Know Home,
to Own Nothing,
But Scars I Can Not Hide;
That Multiply
With Each Passing Day.
They Weigh One After Another;
Suffer.
That Is the Bread I Break,
the Ache
of Never a Praise
or a Raise
to Lift me a Moment
From my Torment.
my Eyes Search
For Why
This Has to Be my Fate
& May Be
I Cry
Just a Little
When I Remember
It Is Too Late,
To Begin a New;
to Bloom.
So I Huddle In my Covers
& Dream Dreams of Death.
For I Have Not the Courage Yet,
to Die;
Sublime
& In my Mind
I Find
Depression At Its Best,
a Laughing Joke,
Another Poke;
That I am Neither a Live or Dead
Just Shambling Through
One More Room
In This Tomb
I Call Life
& I Wonder To my Self
Could This Be a Test;
Then I Smile;
Liar.
Don’t Bother Trying
It Will End
Just Like the Rest.
So Don’t Sit & Fret.
It Can’t Be Met,
Perhaps It’s Time
to Rile Up
the Demons In your Breast;
To Summon Up
All the Angst & Hate
& Serve Them Up a Bitter Plate
Rife With Gun & Knife.
So They May Share
the Loss That Is my Life.
These Are the Things
That Swirl Through my Brain,
That Drive me InSane;
Red,
Raw,
Murder.
Shall I Take your Hand
ForSake This Land
or Am I too Weak,
Another Loss I Think.
Another Rejection
to Add to my List of Depression,
a Debilitating Disease
That Will Have you On your Knees.
Not Good For a Thing
That Is How It Has me
With Out
Hope
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/146018/rejection-depression
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
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
–
https://theprose.com/post/143098/new-knew
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Waterhouse
Stranger
–
Stranger,
What Is Stranger
Than Looking
In to the Eyes
of a Man
you Will Never Meet.
a Wooden Effigy
of a Man
Meant to Save me.
Save me,
From What
a World Gone Mad
From Lust & Spite.
From Religions
Screaming Kill, Kill, Kill,
In the Dead of Night.
From Politicians
Who Want
to Control my Every Right.
Stranger,
What Is Stranger
Than the T.V. Blasting Media
to Make me Number & Dumber
Than Ever Before.
Till I am So Scared
of a Quite Mind
That Constant
Stimulation
& Instant Gratification
Has Drove me Nuts.
Stranger,
Staring In to the Eyes
of a Freak,
a Man Who Thinks
He Can Be Free.
That Shackles & Prison
Don’t Mean a Thing.
That Broken Wings Can Fly.
Stranger, That Man Is me,
the Mirror Reflecting
Till Cracks
Are All I See.
Stranger, Stranger, Stranger,
the Stranger Is me.
Cut Off From the World,
Till my Soul Screams
For Human Touch,
But Strangers, Strangers,
Are All I See.
Strangers to the Pain & Tough,
Strangers When we Know
we Die a Lone.
What Is Stranger
Than Forcing my Mind & Thoughts
In to 200 Word Counts,
to Appease
my Greed & your Need.
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/130086/stranger
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Antoine Wiertz
—/—/—-
–
Discarded
Dreams
of Immortality
&
Meat
Puppets
that Scream
of Blood
that Flows
like Sand
Reanimated
Man
the Damned
#B27321
–
https://inkandironheroicfantasy.wordpress.com/2014/09/12/inkiron-heroic-fantasy-47/
–
These Are my Thoughts
As I Dine On
Canned Beer
& Beans
& Meat
Better Left
Unexplained.
They Say It Came From Fukushima,
Radioactive Waste
Flooding the Seas.
I Just Know
It’s Real,
Like West’s
Sinful Serum
the Dead
Won’t Stay Down.
Killing Friends,
Lovers,
& Kids
In a Nightmare
That Won’t End;
a Game Played
In Blood,
Bullets,
& Pain.
Head For the Hills,
Fresh Water,
the Mountains,
the Oceans;
Poison,
the Cities
Choked
With a Rictus
Grin.
This I Say
To you,
When the Dead
Walk
the Living
are Damned.
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/116642/n-a
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Pierre Juilien Gilbert
Burn
–
Burn
Was the
Echo
In my
Head
Burn
Was
What
the Board
Had
Said
Burn
was What
the Candles
Did
As
the Room
Was Set
a Light
Burn
Is What
She Said
As She
Melted
In
the Night
Burn
Is What
the House
Did
All
In Flames
Burn
Is How
the Memory
Remains
–
Burn
Was
the Baby
In
It’s Bed,
Burn
I Would
Rather,
Than Not
Be Dead
–
Burn
Is
the Planchette
In
my Hand,
Burn
I Know
I Must
Be Damned
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/51900/burn
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Howard Pyle
A Cacophony
of Shadows,
&
All
I Feel
Is Fear.
As I
Look
In to
Those Eyes,
Those Eyes
of
a Seer.
Cards UnFold,
Marking me
For Death;
Both
Dark
&
Bold,
That Grimm
Jester
Holds me
In His
Hand.
What Ever
you Do
Don’t
Go Home.
It’s
the Grave.
That Evil
Place;
Leave
your Dead
UnMourned;
Showing me
the Door,
Refusing Pay;
She Says
Never More.
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/34960/untitled
Filed under Prose
