April 6, 2017 · 5:56 am
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
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as Adversary, Agony, Ass, B27321, Bacchanalian, Bacchanalian Rites, Beast, Began, Birth, Birth Right, Blackest, Bliss, Blood, Blood Red Bliss, Blood Wine, Bloody, Bloody Sacrifices, Bouncing, Cain, Came, Castrating, Castrating Cult, Child, Children, Circle, Covered, Crawled, Crimson, Crimson Queen, Cross, Cross Over, Cult, Cybele, Darkest, Day, Desire, Devout, Discord, Dragon, Dripping, Dripping Mangled Manhood, Driven, Eats, Ecstasy, Eros, Eve, Even, Eyes, Fallen, Family, Father, Feast, Fell, Fingers, Fire, First, Fist, Flames, Flesh, Flickering, Freedom, From, Gods, Great, Great Mother, Greatest, Hand, Hand Picked, Hand Picked Children, Harbinger, Head, Heaped, Hellish, Her, Herbs, Illuminating, Image, Impaling, Impaling Fist, Kind, Known, Land, Left, Licking, Life, Light, Like, Lillith, Line, Lucifer, Man, Mangled, Mangled Manhood, Manhood, Mark, Moon, Morning, Morning Star, Mother, murder, Mutilation, Night, Offered, Older, Oldest, Orgies, Ouroboros, Over, Own, Pandora, Picked, Pierced, Place, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Queen, Receive, Red, Revolution, Right, Rites, Sacrifices, Said, Sanity, Satan, Satanic, Satanic Night, Scarlet, Scarlet Flames, Scenes, Screams, Sear, Served, She, Side, Sin, Since, Sit, Slavery, Snake, Snake Circle, Son, Sons, Sort, Soul, Spear, Spencer Stanhope, Star, Still, Strip, Stroll, Subjects, Suckled, Surviving, Surviving Son, Swollen, Tail, Take, Thighs, Tit, Tits, Tonight, Torch, Torch Light, Touch, Troy, UnBroken, UnBroken Line, Upon, Walls, Wear, When, White, Who, Wild, Wine, Worshippers, Wyrd, Yes
April 3, 2017 · 4:51 pm
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
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as Ache, Add, After, Angst, Another, B27321, Begin, Best, Bitter, Bloom, Bother, Brain, Bread, Break, Breast, Burned, Call, Courage, Covers, Cry, Day, Dead, Death, Debilitating, Debilitating Disease, Demons, Depression, Die, Discord, Disease, Don't, Dream, Dreams, Drive, Driven, Each, End, Eyes, Fate, Find, ForSake, Freedom, From, Good, Gun, Hand, Harbinger, Hate, Hide, Hole, Home, Hope, How, Howard Pyle, Huddle, InSane, Joke, Just, Knees, Knife, Know, Land, Late, Laughing, Liar, Life, Lift, Like, List, Little, Live, Lone, Loss, Marked, May, Met, Mind, Moment, More, Multiply, murder, Neither, Never, New, Not, Nothing, One, Own, Passing, Perhaps, Plate, Poetry, Poke, Praise, Prison, Prose, Raise, Raw, Red, Rejection, Remember, Rest, Revolution, Rife, Rile, Room, Scars, Search, Self, Serve, Shall, Shambling, Share, Sit, Slavery, Smile, Soul, Sublime, Suffer, Summon, Swirl, Take, Test, Think, Tomb, Torment, Trying, Weak, Weigh, Well, When, Why, Will, Wonder, Word, Wyrd, Yet
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
January 28, 2017 · 10:46 pm
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
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as 200, All, Appease, B27321, Before, Blasting, Broken, Broken Wings, Constant, Control, Counts, Cracks, Cut, Cut Off, Dead, Die, Discord, Drove, Dumber, Effigy, Ever, Eyes, Fly, Forcing, Freak, Free, Freedom, From, Gratification, Greed, Harbinger, Human, Human Touch, Instant, Instant Gratification, Kill, Know, Lone, Lust, Mad, Make, Man, Mean, Meant, Media, Meet, Mind, Mirror, Need, Never, Night, Number, Nuts, Off, Pain, Poetry, Politicians, Prison, Prose, Quite, Quite Mind, Reflecting, Religions, Revolution, Right, Save, Scared, Screaming, Screams, See, Shackles, Slavery, So, So Scared, Soul, Spite, Staring, Stimulation, Stranger, Strangers, T.V., Thoughts, Till, Touch, Tough, Want, Waterhouse, What, When, Who, Wings, Wooden, Wooden Effigy, Word, World, Wyrd
December 10, 2016 · 6:21 pm
Antoine Wiertz
—/—/—-
–
Discarded
Dreams
of Immortality
&
Meat
Puppets
that Scream
of Blood
that Flows
like Sand
Reanimated
Man
the Damned
#B27321
–
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
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as Antoine Wiertz, B27321, Beans, Beer, Better, Blood, Bullets, Canned, Canned Beer, Choked, Cities, Damned, Dead, Dine, Discarded, Discarded Dreams, Discord, Down, Dreams, End, Flooding, Freedom, Fresh, Fresh Water, Friends, From, Fukushima, Game, Grin, H. P. Lovecraft, Harbinger, Head, Herbert West, Hills, Immortality, Kids, Killing, Know, Left, Living, Lovers, Man, Meat, Meat Puppets, Mountains, Nightmare, Oceans, Pain, Played, Poetry, Poison, Prison, Prose, Puppets, Radioactive, Radioactive Waste, Real, Reanimated, Reanimated Man, Revolution, Rictus, Rictus Grin, Sand, Say, Scream, Seas, Serum, Sinful, Slavery, These, They, Thoughts, Unexplained, Walk, Waste, Water, West, When, Won't, Wyrd
August 15, 2016 · 2:06 am
Edmund Blair Leighton
Blood
of Dreams
–
Etched
In Ink
Are
the Tears
I Shed
the Blood
of Dreams
Squeezed
From
my Hand
I Search
For
a Friend
a Circle
a Stand
Have I
Found
It
In This
Worthy
Band
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as Are, B27321, Band, Blood, Blood of Dreams, Circle, Discord, Dreams, Edmund Blair Leighton, Etched, Found, Freedom, Friend, From, Hand, Harbinger, Ink, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Revolution, Search, Shed, Slavery, Squeezed, Stand, Tears, Worthy, Wyrd
July 28, 2016 · 4:39 pm
Howard Pyle
Hope
–
Is Like
a Rope
To
Free you
From
your Sty
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as B27321, Discord, Free, Freedom, From, Harbinger, Hope, Howard Pyle, Like, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Revolution, Rope, Slavery, Sty, Wyrd
July 26, 2016 · 3:16 pm
Antonio da Correggio
Real or Fake
–
Every One
Has Faults
They
Do Not
Want
Pointed Out
–
Personal Pain
From Mistakes
InGrained
That Won’t
Go
a Way
–
Center Stage
your Ears
are InFlamed
Run aWay;
Don’t Stay
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as Antonio da Correggio, B27321, Center, Discord, Don't, Ears, Every, Fake, Faults, Freedom, From, Go, Harbinger, InFlamed, InGrained, Mistakes, Not, One, Pain, Personal, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Real, Real or Fake, Revolution, Run, Slavery, Stage, Stay, Want, Won't, Wyrd
July 24, 2016 · 12:03 am
Gustave Dore
Murder
–
I’ll Murder
you
Murder you
Murder you
Murder you
With Words
In Case
you Haven’t
Heard
I’ll Come
To your
House
or
Pull you
From your
Spouse
With Words
Words
Words
Words
you Got
your Little
Clique
&
you
Think
you’re
the Shit
I’ll Kick
In your
Door
Yes,
With Words
Words
Words
Words
Because
When
the Words
Have Stopped
You’ve
All Ready
Been Dropped
With Words
Words
Words
Words
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as B27321, Because, Case, Clique, Discord, Door, Dropped, Freedom, From, Gustave Dore, Harbinger, Heard, House, Kick, Little, murder, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Pull, Ready, Revolution, Shit, Slavery, Spouse, Stopped, Think, Words, Wyrd, Yes
May 25, 2016 · 4:21 pm
Joshua Reynolds
Secret
–
I Think
What
Do you
Look Like
my Beauty
my Beast
Why
Do you
Hide
From
the Eyes
Of me
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as B27321, Beast, Beauty, Discord, Eyes, Freedom, From, Harbinger, Hide, Joshua Reynolds, Like, Look, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Revolution, Secret, Slavery, Think, What, Why
