Tag Archives: Insanity

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

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Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

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 

https://theprose.com/post/141276/how-much

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Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

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

https://theprose.com/post/140584/fuck-fuck-fucked

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Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Eugène Delacroix

Eugène Delacroix

Leighton’s Projector 

I Have Done It.
I Have Created the Projector,
a Portal to Another Dimension.

X

or What Ever the Inhabitants

of This Hellish World,
the Shadow People Call It.
Long Have I Fought

These Delusions of a Fragmented Mind.
Now,
They Will Find

That my Insanity was No Laughter.
That These Were the Demons

That Escaped the Chest,
Till Only Hope was Left.
These Were the Maladies,
Our Second Selves.
All Our Fears & Self Loathing,
Like Diseased Bags In the Wind.
Purge This Land

Till Only God Man Is Left Standing,
We can Win.

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=143577591&page=5#comment_143577591

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