Four-and-Twenty CultistsSing along everyone - this one's rather jolly! (the rhyming scheme at least).
I saw angels dance with devils
under winter's crystal sky.
Old men passed between them,
crying "Dead men never die!"
Then the oceans fell before us,
as the dead began to sing.
Heavens parted wider;
winds prickled at our skin.
Now Satan awakes slowly,
like shadows on the sands.
Together we beg forgiveness,
as he lacerates our hands.
The landscape lies broken,
as stones roll through the hills.
Stars are growing brighter,
fed by blood of untold kills.
Death bends his toxic breath,
exuding nameless streams.
and crimson coloured dreams.
HP Lovecraft's Blasphemous Quest for... MilkAs I sit here, a ruined man, I pray that mankind may never come to know the hideous Truth that drove my mind from the pitiful jest grinning fools term 'reality', and deep into the damnable gulfs of screaming insanity.HP Lovecraft's Blasphemous Quest for... Milk2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was on a brooding day in that most blasphemous month of March when I set out upon my fateful quest. The preceding night I had disinterred the final carton of homogenised lactic potable from my hideously-aged refrigeratory machine. Now, the morning of the 12th, I was desirous that this worthy liquid be replenished in time for that most noble and beautiful of ancient man's aureate ceremonies: breakfast.
The hideous rising sun had scarce penetrated the ghoul-haunted abysses of night, when an abominable stab of hunger assailed the narrow confines of my stomach.
Long had I dreaded the arrival of this evil omen; this mocking portent.
In the preceding weeks I had amassed apparatus and equipment in anticipation of the dread event. Long nights had I spent studying ancien
Encroaching TerrorHuckle-hunting crack-backed wormsEncroaching Terror3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
'neath jeering, leering tangled forms.
Branches breaking, bending, sending
shivers down my mangled spine.
Fine, everything's just fine.
Backward glancing, I see dancing
shadows, shadows that aren't mine.
Time, time ever racing, chasing,
pacing, my footsteps ever hastening;
tasting the seconds as they fade away.
Decay comes quickly, sickly;
stenches, wrenches my groaning gut.
Moaning, roaming through the leaves,
weaves the yearning, burning thing of night.
Sight, I am robbed of sight.
Blinding, something hidden binding,
twining, snaking round my aching useless eyes.
Sighs, the sighs of something very close;
those whispered, blistered wrecks of breath.
Death, the final fleck, silently shivers,
my withered slivered, writhing neck.
You are not an islandI have been alone. This man is an island.You are not an island2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The cliffs of my shoulder blades
hang heavy with grief, ore, suffering.
I am draped with the permanence of gravity,
So do not believe that you cannot move.
Come to me, water babes fully grown,
Allow yourself to be swept in salt and ash.
Tumble with your brothers into my arms
and be at peace, at last, on the shore.
I too was once drowned, but I arose
and as the caps melt, all things will erode
For no man is an island alone.
Seven Sins 1: Lust (The Squire)What is this mindless mood I mourn?Seven Sins 1: Lust (The Squire)3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I brush her bloody hands as she ignores my cries,
And I will not hate but say heed these sighs.
Once I desired her darling delight,
As I perished by poison to forget about her pitiful plight.
Her face fixes it's gaze upon mine,
Bordered with raven hair knotted and bold,
Was she really young or was my heart too old?
How I would watch her from atop a white hill,
Waiting until sad skies hailed a stormy sign.
What is this elusive emotion I elope?
I touch her taut lips as she walks by me,
And I do not stop but ask when will she see?
Once I lusted her loving lamentation,
As I stared in silence for her scarlet seduction.
Her face fades it's smile away now,
Sullied with pale rain marred and still,
Was she really evil or was my mind too ill?
How I would wander to see her in a red town,
Tormenting until glad ghosts wailed a grisly glow.
What is this fearsome feeling I feel?
I catch her cold eyes as she passes me by,
And I cannot help but ask why did she die?
icaruslast nighticarus2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I found the curve of a lunar eclipse
in my spine, indentations
left by Daedalus in my shoulders,
the constellations wired stitches
for my broken wrists—
I've always wanted to see a sunset
from the sky, watch the clouds
(my fingers are too rough to
catch them in my palms)
they roll over each other
as mortal oceans,
if I can see the world
blacken when I'm in the sky,
I've sewn on mechanical wings and
we're just waiting for the sun to melt us to wax.
Love's Cold WhisperNot a whisper, not a thought,Love's Cold Whisper2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Though alone I walk,
I feel the cost,
And every day, I'm chilled by frost.
And every year, the thoughtful few
Sing to me to lessen my pain,
It never cleans,
My soul's blood stain,
And soft sweet voices become my bane.
And every life I've lived as yet
Has seen me walk alone.
And even the radiant light
The sun has shown
Can do nothing to warm my bones.
WishmasterA whisper, in cold skies of old, dying starsWishmaster3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Is heard, and their lingering death
With not one regret turns and scatters in waste,
As realms of shattered humanity haste
To live and to burn out their breath.
Yet soon there's a scream, a small cry of despair
That binds all the skies to avail,
And one daring soul stands behind to convey
His wish to unravel all living dismay,
To bury his past and prevail.
And thus it begins, as no man can escape
The sweet domination of want,
While stars burn and shine, for so he allows,
The master of wishes that hastily vows
To bring forth desires to grant.
But no man can endure the cruel truth behind,
The wasteland of the human fate,
As all exploration of such fragile minds
Leads only to nothing, and all that it finds
Are fragments of wishes and hate.
And so he remains, whose new story of life
Has neither a middle nor end.
For stars will grow cold and will wantonly die
When wishes are old, while humanity’s lie
Of life will no longer commend.
How one Dead Views the LivingMy life had always been painted in sombre greys. In death, how it blossoms!How one Dead Views the Living3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
When the rains come, the watery drops fall like tears of ink: echoing and dancing across sparkling sapphire puddles. The sun, a golden mystic orb, shedding its beauty on all it touches.
I see rustic weather-beaten cragged faces of the old, set with eyes of faded blue. I behold bright smiles and blushes upon the fat cheeks of the young. My ears prickle with the twirling thousand-noted song of birds. The beauty of all these things I never observed in life, now bursts upon my ripened senses - in death.
In a trance I view this new-found paradise. Life, I have come to realise, is most beautiful to the spectator. The spectator has no need for understanding or judgement.
I look upon a derelict dilapidated street, filthy with squalor. I cast my eyes over the crumbling paintwork of rotting window frames, housing broken panes. Here and there sickly weeds break through mouldering masonry.
Oh what a picture, what a spectac
Hollow Memory of a Distant ShoreYou are like a long passed season.Hollow Memory of a Distant Shore2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As delicate as the footprints of sparrows in freshly fallen snow.
Intricate, yet so easily disturbed when care is not taken.
Somehow, you have managed to persist after all these years.
Residing in the same quiet place you carved into the woods so long ago..
Only a short ride from the sea.
When you cross my mind, you carry with you the scent of that shoreline.
Harsh and thick, yet somehow placating.
Though the weather was perpetually gray, misty, and cold.
Much like your heart had become..
Just before we painfully, and slowly, parted ways.
I recall with deep longing your fascination with foxes.
With the way they would trot up and down the beach in the early morning,
Their coats most often wet and muddy from crossing into the tide.
I could see the subtle enthrallment in your eyes as they dug for clams.
They would thrust their forepaws deep into the muck, throw it backward..
And at times, to my assuagement, you would smile.
Now, it feels more dist
PeonyAlone, but forPeony2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the red boots marching
cathedral heart: I
am beating echoes
in this city of the
stepping little girl's
dreams, I visit mama
in the night; but
flowers and wine won't
pay for her light.
the gardenerthe wildflower truths have spread to your garden,the gardener2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you cut them down like weeds,
your tired hands chopping off the head
of the hydra.
it always reappears,
stronger and more lethal.
the pain it brings is just as resilient
but you cover it up with plastic sheeting
until every emotion feels compulsory,
the smell of new cars,
lab coat white,
too clean to
but you have dirt under your fingernails,
after pulling out
roots from the ground.
you weighed them in your hands to examine their worth,
but came up with nothing,
not an ounce of the answers you hoped to find.
ResonanceDid you know that Guilt echoes?Resonance2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Resonating in the pools of emotion,
The patterned rings change direction and take a new wind of persona.
Their form changed forever, til' another touch of feeling changes them again,
To be a still pool of emotions is a...
death-defying feat of inhumanity.
To rid ourselves of echoes is to shift into something that should not exist,
Animals feel, Demonic entities and spectres feel- even if it is with a cold corazón.
With every new emotion brought into the game of life, the ocean of heart expands,
Ever-flowing with thoughts, ideas, dreams, hopes and fears.
If your feelings of guilt change your silver repeating rings' tangents,
then merely intercept it with an Overpowering feeling into the direction of your waves.
It's bony fingertips trace the edge of the pools,
the muddy infection of sludge from it's own pool coats it's bones, laces through it's ribs.
It's ropes strain and wear away from it's form,
It is bound to it's po
fathomand since you asked,fathom2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
yes, this is how
I always see you:
bright toxic viridian,
like a bowlful of
like an ocean
sliced open at the
baring its frigid depths,
each tentacled squid,
each sucker and fin and
parted for me
as if I were Moses,
as if you were the Red Sea,
as if I could see
every wild thing
that teems within you
Ellie, one-oh-one.she doesn't know her name.Ellie, one-oh-one.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it isn't surprising really. it has been so long since someone said it with any vigour, any affection, that it seems almost natural for her to have forgotten it.
she has lapsed into herself. her shoulders, with their warm-hearted mammal bones, quiver and shake beneath the weight of her own uneasiness. her arms, they shiver and the bruises ripple slowly - rocks in a pond. she has turned fetal.
the voices shudder as they cry out into the emptiness of her soul, their lips casting names against her chasms. none of them stick, none of them strike open the shell of her heart and set her aflame. none of them wake her from this coma, this darkness.
the world contracts and stumbles into yet another winter around her. it freezes her bones and the leafless trees whisper apologies into her matted hair, her flaking skin. the earth sends kisses up through the soles of her feet, the sagging flesh of her backside.
the world apologizes into her and the voices cry but her stoma
RondeletsBlackbirdsRondelets2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Beaks pierced with rue; wing tips broken
Frail songs born on air and dying
And frail sounds no voice has spoken
Tiny beating hearts laid open
Shiver of hips
A twist of silk sends coins flying
Shiver of hips
the rhythm poised upon her lips
Dancer, her seven veils sighing
silk upon her bronze skin lying
Shiver of hips
slowly, and then all at onceand for once, he slips on his wedding ring, to cure the monotony. it slides over his knuckle, a perfect fit, and in the morning release of sunlight the silver gleams at him. it glares, calling him a liar: she is not a whorehouse and you are too broke to own her, you harlot, you. he buttons up, tucks in his shirt tail, and buckles his belt. the clinking of metal parts is the only sound in the room besides the dusting of her breathing beside him. and when he's gone, the only thing he leaves behind are the bruises on her collarbone.slowly, and then all at once2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you find him because you're lonely, (well, it's actually the opposite.) he finds you because his wardrobe is black and his shoes are scuffed and he asks you where your castle is. you're the only princess he sees 'round here. the rain soaks into his shirt and he curses it, grinning. and damn girl, you follow him, because you think you see some kinda warmth in his ice blue eyes.
it takes you days t
astrological.i. On some nights,astrological.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
street lights guide
this lonely heart
to her lonely bed.
ii. In this universe of twilight skin
& mismatched bones,
I wonder just how many poems sleep
beneath the inkwell of her eyes.
iii. My body is a house of stars,
and her palms are black holes
sucking ( me ) into their vortex of
iv. She says, "Please—my moon,
please—give these bones a reason
& I am whispering lovelies
into the sanctuary of her heartbeats.
v. "Goddess temple,
sunset eyes, &
my windowpane love-
Let us eat the stars
To a Faithful Friend12.19.12To a Faithful Friend2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I remember when you told me
that when the weather came haunting
I was to call you.
Tonight, after conversing
with the doubtful grey
blanket of a sky,
cursing me with isolation,
I decided to see if
had any room for me.
I asked you,
to damn this winter
before it damned me,
and like a faithful friend,
you responded at once,
with sleepy mumble
in your voice saying
yes, you had time for me.
You walked through the forest
of snow capped and brittle
complexities with me
and damned the cold before
it reached my bones.
Simply calling you "friend"
is an understatement.
ReminderI was sitting by myself on the cement, looking up at the stars.Reminder2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Their all so pretty....the way they shine, I always wonder if they have a thought process, because some nights, they seem as if they want to hide, and just fade away into the sky.
But strangely, when I need to find that one star, that was hidden for nights at a time,
it would appear, as if it heard me calling its name.
And as I looked up upon the star, I just knew that everything would be fine.
When the time was right, it would disappear, and I would just go on with my life, and look at all the other stars, still thinking about that one.
It was different from the rest, it had a aura of its own. It was so bright, it lit up the sky around
it as if it was its very own moon, but inside of its pure radiance, was its own shade of blue.
It was almost sad.
I say that, because even though it appeared down, it seemed as if it was happy about something else, it was strange.
It was as if the star itself had just found out s
...But Not Your NameI remember us, but not your name -...But Not Your Name2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
names, that felt legion,
but none the same.
They fell into the slipstream
with whoever you are now.
But I remember your face:
how the hairs scratched
my chin and cheeks when we kissed;
chocolate brown eyes
that lingered, searched,
and looked for all the world
like love themselves.
You looked for all the world like you loved me,
I have memories of words spoken,
and of times that we had;
I will always remember us together.
I remember our song, but not the words,
you said you'd write them eventually
I remember the melody,
sweet, slow, delicate, romantic,
You played like a minstrel on your guitar,
said you composed it for me,
and gave the wordless ballad my name.
Perhaps it was a song that you'd heard before
and maybe you just liked the score,
and how the chords fit your fingers,
and thought that I would be easy to play;
because you wanted a harmony,
I went mad puzzling over your gam