January 23, 2016 · 7:18 pm
Vicente Carducho
Black Book
–
So It Seems,
you Come To me.
After Years of Pain UnTold,
Searching For the Words To Sell my Soul.
Blood & Sacrifice;
the Darkest of Deeds Has Made you Real.
A Bargain To Seal.
Would you Grant my Wish,
Ever Lasting Youth
or Am I to Play the Stooge;
a Blasphemous Fool.
Too Late For Regrets,
the Game Is Screwed.
–
Taken From
the Private
Journals
of #B27321
Last Son
of a
Fallen Line
–
Filed under Posts
Tagged as B27321, Bargain, Black, Black Book, Blasphemous, Blood, Book, Deeds, Discord, Ever, Fallen, Fallen Line, Fool, Freedom, Game, Grant, Harbinger, Journals, Last, Last Son, Lasting, Line, Made, Pain, Play, Poetry, Prison, Private, Private Journals, Real, Regrets, Revolution, Sacrifice, Screwed, Seal, Searching, Sell, Slavery, Son, Soul, Stooge, Taken, Too Late, Vicente Carducho, Wish, Words, Years, Youth
June 28, 2015 · 7:21 pm
Howard Pyle
More
–
Wracked
by a Million
Battles;
my Flesh
an Old Sole.
Still I Go,
Searching,
Searching,
For a Mystery
to UnFold.
It Has Lead me
To your Door;
What Pray Tell
Will This Story Hold.
Another Contest of Wills,
So you May Test
the Iron of my Spine.
Ever
It Has Driven me Forth,
Searching,
Searching
For More.
–
Taken From
the Private
Journals
of #B27321
Last Son
of a
Fallen Line
–
Filed under Posts
Tagged as Another, B27321, Battles, Contest, Discord, Door, Driven, Ever, Fallen, Fallen Line, Flesh, Forth, Freedom, Harbinger, Hold, Howard Pyle, Iron, Journals, Last, Last Son, Lead, Line, May, Million, More, Mystery, Old, Poetry, Pray, Prison, Private, Private Journals, Revolution, Searching, Slavery, Sole, Son, Spine, Stories, Tell, Test, UnFold, Will, Wracked
May 25, 2015 · 10:44 am
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
–
Filed under Posts
Tagged as Animated Damned, B27321, Breed, Cemetery Yards, Children, Creeps, Cthulhu, Deep, Demands, Demons, Devils, Discord, Dominion, Dreams, Eerie, Eerie Music, Erich Zann, Eyes, Fallen Line, Flesh Bags, Focus, Forms, Freedom, Gulfs, H. P. Lovecraft, Hand, Harbinger, Hideous, Hold, Human Sheep, Inner Most, Journals, Last Son, Lost, Lullaby, Man, Master, Meat, Mind, Mingle, Music, Outer Gods, Poetry, Prison, Private, Pulling, Questing, Rats, Reach, Revolution, Sea, Searching, Sits, Slavery, Sleep, Souls, Starving, Sway, Thrive, Throats, Time, Trance, Trilling, Voids, Written
February 1, 2015 · 8:43 pm
Johannes Egenberger
Fattened Sow
–
Through the Black Twisted Sea,
you Come Searching for me.
You Would Follow me
to the Mountains of the Moon,
to Ensure my Doom,
you Said to me.
I have Thwarted you
On Both Sea & Land,
me & my Red Hands.
Shame & Scorn
Is What you Have to Look For.
As we Slink In the Night to Burn
& Plunder All you Hold Right.
With Taxes & Levies you Burden us Down.
Thrust, Cut, & Parry, you Fattened Sow.
We of the Free Company will not Bare your Yoke.
Rather,
Look you In the Eye,
Stand & Die,
Not Mice but Men.
The Mountains of the Moon
Could not Come too Soon,
to End your Miserable Life.
–
Taken From
the Private
Journals
of #B27321
Last Son
of a
Fallen Line.
–
Filed under Posts
Tagged as B27321, Black, Die, Discord, Doom, Fallen Line, Fattened Sow, Free Company, Freedom, Harbinger, Johannes Egenberger, Journals, Last Son, Levies, Me, Men, Mice, Miserable Life, Moon, Mountains, Poetry, Prison, Private, Revolution, Said, Searching, Slavery, Stand, Taxes, Twisted Sea, Yoke
February 5, 2014 · 8:35 pm
–
“The Weird Tales Submissions Process”
–
N.C. Wyeth
I am
Disheartened
to See
that Lovecraft
&
Howard
were Not
your
Story Choices
but Perhaps
They
have
a Part
to Play.
Tesla
In the
Arkham
Sanitarium
Upon a
Frigid
Winter’s
Night
His
Pigeons
from Hell
In
Glorious Flight.
Quill
In Hand
Searching
to
Thwart
the Outer
Gods
Cold
Hideous
Might
Filed under Weird Tales Magazine
Tagged as Arkham, B27321, Choices, Cold, Discord, Disheartened, Flight, Freedom, Frigid, Glorious, H. P. Lovecraft, Hand, Harbinger, Hell, Hideous, I, Might, N.C. Wyeth, Night, Nikola Tesla, Outer Gods, Part, Perhaps, Pigeons, Play, Prison, Quill, Revolution, Robert E. Howard, Sanitarium, Searching, See, Slavery, Stories, Submissions, Thwart, Upon, Weird Tales Magazine, Winter, Winter's Night
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