April 29, 2017 · 10:26 am
Henry Fuseli
Ravioli Knights
–
Infidelity
a Broken Ring,
a Vow
That Means
Nothing Now,
Lies
Like Spread Thighs;
Cottage Cheese For Seasoning.
True
That Should Have Been
Like Glue,
Not
Like Rot
Seven Seasons Dead.
In This Room
I Have Been Held
For the Murders of you
I Thought a Friend
& the Mob Who
Bought It
Trying For my Head.
Just me you See
With a Canned Good
Against you
& Three.
the Misery I With Stood
2 To the Chest
& One Beside the Eye.
Yes,
the 45 Caliber Kind.
to Drain & Die
On This Kitchen Floor
Was Not What I Was Made For.
If I Was to Die
It Was to Be In Battle Sweet
or Between the Legs
of a Lady Riding High.
Not Treachery
Both Foul & Deep.
Luring me With Sex & Song
to the Valley of Sleep;
Having Done
I Went For a Bottle of Beer
& Surprise Who Should I Meet
But 3 Long Shadows
Waiting There For me.
Flash,
Flash,
Flash,
Down I Was InDeed,
Blood Red Agony,
Not a Breath to Breathe,
Pain Bright Dizzying.
Laying There Wondering
If This Was the End For me,
the Vest Had Not Held
& Crimson Was Blossoming.
They Left to Check & See,
To Get the Stuff to Dismantle me.
In the Tub to Bleed
& Then the Cutting;
No, No,
Not For me
As I Slipped Ravioli In a Sock.
First,
I Came to Crush your Skull
my Lovely Little Girl.
Then the Man
Who Came to Gut me Like a Pig
& Then the 2
to Help Move.
It Was Such a Gristly Scene,
Had to Be Burning.
I Will Never Forget
That Night.
Standing Above
Those Broken Things
Screaming Triumphantly
As the Kerosene Burned Bright,
Ravioli Nights
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as 2, 3 Long, 45, 45 Caliber, Above, Agony, Battle, Battle Sweet, Been, Beer, Beside, Between, Bleed, Blood, Blood Red Agony, Blossoming, Both, Bottle, Bottle of Beer, Bought, Bought It, Breath, Breathe, Bright, Broken, Broken Ring, Broken Things, Burned, Burned Bright, Burning, Caliber, Came, Canned, Canned Good, Check, Cheese, Chest, Cottage, Cottage Cheese, Crimson, Crush, Cutting, Dead, Deep, Die, Dismantle, Dizzying, Done, Down, Drain, End, Eye, First, Flash, Floor, ForGet, Foul, Friend, Get, Glue, Good, Gristly, Gristly Scene, Gut, Had, Head, Held, Help, Henry Fuseli, High, InDeed, Infidelity, It, Kerosene, Kind, Kitchen, Kitchen Floor, Knights, Lady, Laying, Left, Legs, Lies, Like, Little Girl, Long Shadows, Lovely, Lovely Little Girl, Luring, Made, Man, Means, Meet, Misery, Mob, Move, Murders, Never, Night, Nights, No, Not, Nothing, Now, One, Pain, Pain Bright Dizzying, Pig, Prose, Ravioli, Ravioli Knights, Ravioli Nights, Red, Riding, Riding High, Ring, Room, Rot, Scene, Screaming, Screaming Triumphantly, Seasoning, Seasons, See, Seven, Seven Seasons, Seven Seasons Dead, Sex, Shadows, Should, Skull, Sleep, Slipped, Sock, Song, Spread, Spread Thighs, Standing, Stood, Stuff, Such, Surprise, Sweet, There, They, Thighs, Things, Those, Those Broken, Those Broken Things, Thought, Three, Treachery, Triumphantly, True, Trying, Tub, Valley, Valley of Sleep, Vest, Vow, Waiting, Went, Who, Will, With, With Stood, Wondering, Yes
December 17, 2016 · 2:34 am
Howard Pyle
Knight
–
the Lines
I Write
Often Filled
With #Spite
Does Not
Make Them
Any Less
#Right
Just Things
I #Say
To
Make me
Feel
#Gay
& Get
you
All
Up Tight
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as B27321, Discord, Feel, Filled, Freedom, Gay, Harbinger, Howard Pyle, Knight, Less, Lines, Make, Not, Often, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Revolution, Right, Say, Slavery, Spite, Tight, With, Write, Wyrd
September 1, 2016 · 11:59 am
Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres
Desire II
–
I Traced
the Valleys
&
Lines
Of your
Tender Thighs
&
With
Smiling Eyes
you Opened
Wide
to Receive
my Sword
the Cries
Of you
&
I
Mounting
For the
Rush
Told me
More Than
Words
That This
Ride
Would Go
For Months
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as B27321, Cries, Desire, Desire II, Discord, Eyes, Freedom, Harbinger, Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, Lines, Months, More, Mounting, Opened, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Receive, Revolution, Ride, Rush, Slavery, Smiling, Sword, Tender, Thighs, Told, Traced, Valleys, Wide, With, Words, Wyrd
August 10, 2016 · 9:34 pm
Arthur Rackham
Blade Dancer
–
Blade Dancing
a Form
of Dueling
With Bladed
Gauntlets
First Blood
Or
Death
you Heard
It Said
To Right
Wrongs
Or
Prove
you’re
the Best
a Circle
In
the Sand
No Arms
Or
Armor
Just Blades
For Hands
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as Armor, Arms, Arthur Rackham, B27321, Best, Blade, Blade Dancer, Blade Dancing, Bladed, Blades, Blood, Circle, Dancer, Dancing, Death, Discord, Dueling, First, First Blood, Form, Freedom, Gauntlets, Hands, Harbinger, Heard, Just, No, Or, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Prove, Revolution, Right, Said, Sand, Slavery, With, Wrongs, Wyrd
June 12, 2016 · 1:16 pm
Paul Stade
Cold, Maybe So
–
you are
Alone
Trust
a Broken
Bone
Cold
Maybe So
But
When you
Are There
Sitting In
the Chair
After
They Have
Shaved
you Bare
Who Shall
Take
your Place
Fate
you Are
On
your Own
&
It Is
Written
In Stone
That you
Have
to Deal
With
the Past
you’ve Made
Sit
as Though
On
a Throne
Knowing
In
your Home
Nothing
Was Fake
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as After, Alone, B27321, Bare, Bone, Broken, But, Chair, Cold, Deal, Discord, Fake, Fate, Freedom, Harbinger, Home, Knowing, Made, Maybe, Maybe So, Nothing, On, Own, Past, Paul Stade, Place, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Revolution, Shall, Shaved, Sit, Sitting, Slavery, So, Stone, Take, There, Though, Throne, Trust, When, Who, With, Written, Wyrd
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