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
March 18, 2016 · 5:00 pm
Fritz von Wille
Thy Favorite
Spell
Hell
Possibility
Is What
Works
For me
Nothing Written
In Stone
Nothing
to Make
you Groan
This Is
the Way
It Has
to Be
you See
With Possibility
There Is
Never
a Cage
Nor
the Rage
Of Not
Being Free
Only Limits
Of the
Mind
I Find
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as B27321, Cage, Discord, Favorite, Find, Free, Freedom, Fritz von Wille, Groan, Harbinger, Has, Hell, Limits, Make, Mind, Never, Nor, Not, Nothing, Only, Poetry, Possibility, Prison, Prose, Rage, Revolution, See, Slavery, Spell, Stone, Way, What, Works, Written
January 26, 2016 · 9:21 pm
Henri Meyer
To Make
It
a Platform
to Reach
the Sky
Here Is
a Prose
Idea
a Round
Table
of Professionals
Those
Who
Have Contacts
In Their
Craft
to Push
Us
Past
to Support
&
Mentor
Those
That Keep
the Fire
a Live
a Corner
Stone
to Make
Our Words
Thrive
Champions
So
we May
be Heard
Champions
So
we May
Rule
the Written
World
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as B27321, Champions, Contacts, Corner, Craft, Discord, Fire, Freedom, Harbinger, Heard, Henri Meyer, Here, Idea, Keep, Live, Make, May, Mentor, Past, Platform, Poetry, Prison, Professionals, Prose, Push, Reach, Revolution, Round, Rule, Sky, Slavery, Stone, Support, Table, Their, Thrive, Who, Words, World, Written, Wyrd
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 LineÂ
–
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
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