Rafael Flores
Tag Archives: From
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
Hans Leu the Elder
Pay Back
–
I First Heard of Him
When He Came Before the Ethics Committee.
During the Trial of Edwin Mercer
Head of the Obama Corp,
For Crimes Against Humanity.
For the Genetic Testing & Research
He Had Conducted On Inmates
of Both Mental Health Facilities & Prisons
or Any One Else He Pleased
Like the Murder & Detainment
of Any One Who Got In His Way;
Families, Lawyers, Judges
He Killed Them All.
I Will Never Forget
How That Nondescript Man
Walked Down That Aisle
& Demanded
In a Booming Voice
I Claim the Oldest Law of Them All,
I Claim the Right of An Eye For An Eye,
Just As This Man Murdered So Many
He Shall Die
Not Coddled In a Cage
but Right Now
Like the Dog He Is.
I am
Pay Back
& Then
the Screaming Began
As the Bones Were Broken
From His Toes On Up
Till Just a Gurgling,
Mewing, Mess Was Left
& Then Just a Stain.
I Would Learn Later
He Was a Master of Disguise
As Well As
His Own Bodies Matter,
He Could Absorb Any Force Directed At Him
Then UnLeash It How & When He Chose.
Abilities Given to Him by the Very Corporation
of the Man He Had Just Killed.
He Was Test Subject
#B27321
& Now He Was a God
Now you Couldn’t Crack His Skin
or Poison His Wine
Now you Can’t Kill Him
He Just Won’t Die
–
https://api.theprose.com/post/179234/pay-back
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
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
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
–
https://theprose.com/post/53403/blood-of-dreams
Filed under Prose
Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy
Howard Pyle
Hope
–
Is Like
a Rope
To
Free you
From
your Sty
#B27321
–
https://theprose.com/post/51039/hope
Filed under Prose
