Limbo"The enemy will be here soon," thought a knight standing guard at Harod castle. He looked at the bleak utilitarian walls and considered the crumbling mortar that held them firm against artillery. The castle had seen better days, and was ancient in design.
He walked along the parapet, regarding his comrades stood there in the freezing winter cold. The air washed over the walls, chilling all comfort from his pale bones. "The enemy will be here soon," he thought as he continued along his forlorn path.
He patrolled around and around, up and down, an endless mechanical nature slowly moving in solidarity with his limbo bound comrades, frozen-dead. After a time an archer on the battlement above cried, "the enemy is here". The knight thought to himself, "The enemy will be here soon."
The castle guard stood and watched for hours in horror as the trebuchets were slowly brought into range of the crumbling castle walls. The fortifications fell
Under A Gibbous MoonIt was a dark evening, the light of a starkly gibbous moon shone ominously onto a lone Arkham building. A place rooted firmly into one of the more undesirable districts of that cursed city. The light trickled through into its Georgian interior, as if afraid of the dancing shadows it threw forward like devilish spectres. The pointed ears and peaked form of something alien to the world were cast darkly onto Howard Phillip Lovecraft by the softly tortured light. He sat reading the "The Cask of Amontillado", muttering to himself, strange musings punctuated by the curling of his lips. The cat's shadow disappeared and the scene seemed twisted for a moment, silent but for the screams of another world that could be heard echoing in the dark circuitous passageways of his mind.Under A Gibbous Moon3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Lovecraft stared stoically at the aged paper before him, pensive as he ignored this all too familiar experience. He closed the book, self indulgent self hatred and adoration of his erstwhile peer an
Homogenised identityA curd festers on the top of a glassHomogenised identity3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Floating above the homogenised
Relative and pointing
At the curd
Relative to the curd
Fighting to sink
Beauty in the contraryThere is beauty in the contrary.Beauty in the contrary4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The off beats of appreciation are not wanton
To those found wanting.
In the jazz of life,
They offer an escape from the machinations of our conducting oppressors.
A personal oppressor we all know well.
A violin that shrieks high and
Cuts at the beauty of melody,
Nothing but an escape from the prescient
Vision of pre-destiny. There is a remedy.
There is always a remedy. An escape
From the inevitable end we are
In the madness of the ecstatic heart heavy dance.
Release your burdens and see
What the enlightenment brings.