Tag Archives: Till

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

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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

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

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Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Howard Pyle

Howard Pyle

FriendShip

a Meaning
Less
Word
Till you
Show me
It’s Worth

Not

In Words

But

Weight

&

Measure,

To Hold

your Head

Up,

That

my Friend,

Is Treasure

#B27321

https://theprose.com/post/52767/friendship

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Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Howard Pyle

Howard Pyle

Until Now
I’d Lost
All Hope
Till my
Fingers
Found
your Throat
the Pain
&

Shame
That Has
Made me
This Man
This Man
Who Can
Take
Any Thing
Any Thing
you Throw
From Sewer
to Citadel
has Been
my Fame
As my
Hand
Tightens
I Claim
&

End
your Reign
Poverty
#B27321

https://theprose.com/post/36652/untitled

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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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Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Gluttony/Jacques Callot

Gluttony/Jacques Callot

Bounce

That Bitch

Back

&

Forth

Till

you

Get Off

Words

#B27321

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