Tag Archives: Soul

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

Leave a comment

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

Leave a comment

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

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Waterhouse

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

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Henryk Siemiradzki

Henryk Siemiradzki

a Thousand
Failures
Sour
my Soul
As
my Serum
Seeks
to Surpass
Man.
#B27321

https://www.facebook.com/InkandIronHeroicFantasy/posts/1005477049598388?story=S%3A_I119335578212544%3A1005477049598388

Leave a comment

Filed under Posts

Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Howard Pyle

Howard Pyle

Some Times

Some Times
Love Thrills
Like Music
Played Upon
your Spine
Some Times
Love Stills
the Pain
&

Hate
In Side
Some Times
Love Heals
the Savage
Soul
we Hide
Some Times
Love Kills
Like
a Shallow
Dive
Some Times
Love
Swills
the Dregs
That No
Body
Else
Can Find
Leaving Us
New Again
Some Times
#B27321

https://theprose.com/post/54140/some-times

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

J.W. Kennedy

J.W. Kennedy

Still Will

To be
Mental
to Use
my Mind
to Achieve
What’s
In Side
a Cage
That Causes
Rage
Is How
I See
my Life
the Limits
Like Sin
the Walls
I Hide
Be Hind
Morality
as my
Soul
Screams
Kill
Cut
a Sway
Through
These
Bloody Bastards
I Know
Another
Sick Depravity
my Will
Steel
to Live
my Life
as
my Master
my Answer
Steel Will
to Pursue
the Life
I am
After
Steel Will
I am
After
Steel Will
Steel Will
Cut
a Sway
Through These
Bloody Bastards
Steel Will
Steel Will
Steel Will
#B27321

https://theprose.com/post/53646/still-will

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Eugène Delacroix

Eugène Delacroix

Dark Star

a Journey
In to
Hell
the Mind
a Walk
Down
the Darkest
Paths
of Strife
Drugs
Death
&

Demons
No Realer
Can you
Find
Sold
your Soul
To
the Man
Below
For
a Pot
of Gold
Money
Health
&

Life
Dark Star
#B27321

a Cartoon
For
the Devil
In you
Dark Star

https://theprose.com/post/50661/dark-star

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Thomas Cole

Thomas Cole

CONCRETE HEART

Ripples In a Ocean
Trying To Be Heard
Have Soured my Soul

#B27321

https://theprose.com/post/43017/concrete-heart

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Vicente Carducho

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

https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1340827-monthly-short-fiction-contest—win-a-50-amazon-gift-card-or-paypal-pri?comment=146428732&page=5#comment_146428732

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Posts