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Literature
Indifferent Damping
The starlight, evening
bright, all it's vale,
if anything good from
the semi-invisible cocoon
of television had an
invisible & in it's point,
natural task, or Holiday
fulfillment point, to it's
strange joint, a terror, a
horror, a ghost channeled
up from just a small
spark of fear, like a
dust flash, or the
cool mist & mote of life,
in it's strange, & sometimes
vacant pool, & the water
here moved, as if touched by
a shrouded ghost out of
it's webbed white &
grey tomb,
the damping whispered the
antenna, & all channels
changed will in one
way, & far to one
distant field, all the field
was tended, leaves collected, hay
rolled & indifferently still.  
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 2 0
Literature
Night, Night, Night
After the Oct 31st autumn,
with mantis wings, eyes,
& beak, spider web egg,
from 3rd level of string,
& small birds nest,
in leafless bush,
night,night,night,
a ghost!
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 4 0
Literature
The Spider Loading
It seemed to delight
the shower to find
the statue there,
& the spider moved
up the dirt path,
past uncarved pumpkins,
not yet charged to
dilute the strange
multitudinous forms of
the years demons,
& the spider moved
with what seemed the
showers delight,
& there was
no statue there,
no figure,
no plaque,
just spider
in it's web,
having a snack.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 3 0
Literature
The Vampire Winked
The bone in the marsh,
where meteor light pulled
up the fowl & wild
grass,
where willow's ghost
hid the wild flower
phantom things,
the bones in the stars
pulling spiders from
their bound hair,
to find & free
the medicine three,
the hair must
be let down, & the
bones lay uncollected,
should a red devil
& white angel choose not
to misjudge, Door Fly
the ghost from a
city blocks paper asking
from it's collection of
boundless hearts & minds,
to free the retentive eye,
for a 1st prize president
to pay, build & never challenge,
the mould of strength
& the Vampire
winked
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 5 2
Literature
The Cookie Moon and The Red Witch for Halloween
Her house is a haunted
light that will not break,
though a curtain may
move with a strange
spirit, a spirit that
see's for what it will,
lingering here
for very long, & the cookie
moon begins a watch,
& the mind may fill full &
brightly, the spirit here
quite welcome to the next
quest of the Christmas
spirit, quite welcome, & how
odd a genuine wish for a
Christmas ghost,
The curtains may
look red here, black or blue,
in a yard one cannot
see, kin to locked garden,
or isolated continents wilds
at tree & animal being,
crack the Cookie Moon
for the Red Witch
&
Halloween,
A pumpkin drawn on the sidewalk in
Summer,
It's face smiling,
the smell of a baked pie,
a bird in the
evening tree, is it
a ghost or a book here that
says it, the Red Witch goes
back inside quietly, the Moon fades,
tomorrow is the day when silence stills
it's lair,
her dog's speak & smile, & cats sit gently pur & stare.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 5 2
Literature
A Fly From the Mouth of A Corpse
The Great Owl sat
in it's tree, watching
darkness itself, across
the way of the
blue country road,
from that black shadow
a fly would drift
in & out of the light,
out into the light,
& back into the
invisible dark, again
& again,
before dawn a
visible spirit, a ghost
moved, then quite visibly,
out onto the blue
country road, & before
the Sun had time to
rise, walked down
that country road,
disappearing down the
blue horizon.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 10 1
Literature
Where Death's Horse Was Grazing
The gaunt anatomy, to find
I came mostly on horseback,
no desire to flay, for every
detail a pale child's fist,
white fields leaned sideways,
the castle windows seemed
to of their background
& appearance that they
accentuated the blind brilliance
with the white winter-murdered
hosts, stiffening for death,
colours that were sunk
in the darkness of that
whiteness,
sometimes by moonlight,
like the heart of an
ancient home,
sharper shapes from a
silence that was unbreakable,
here the land like a
curtain, a thick drapery
of gold with a
thousand dumb &
blinking stitched skulls
to pass through with
dumb & teddy bear blinking
eyes, the white horse of Death
grazing in a field of bones.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 6 0
Literature
The Tooth of the One Named Hook
from the three door
ways, & the crooked
staircase of cracked
carpeting & frayed dust,
looking dirty in the light,
like dead shadow,
the stuff of horror,
& quite the opposite of
Peter Pan's issue,
soap come to think
of it the only source
to come, though a
wet staircase & carpet,
a macabre image, to
be sure, & sill to
be honest & this being
true, the staircase
in frayed dust & cracked
carpeting looking darker
& longer in the glowing
gloom, & when the clock
chimed, it was as
though the house in
it's shadow & stone,
& strange tooth, took
on the very essence of the
one named Hook, & a pumpkin was set
outside for Halloween.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 6 0
Literature
Don't Let Loneliness Mess With Custom
custom had then been
more of a living action,
to be performed with
clarity, or with pride,
or a touch of self preservation,
& perhaps a little bit
of personal sensitivity,
or perhaps with none
of this in mind,
custom had then been
more of a living action,
so the Halloween pumpkin
was carved,
& as for loneliness,
the pumpkin swallowed
the night in ghostly
& goblin-like laughter,
the Devil itself returned,
so the children danced
& laughed, & happily trembled,
to it's own living action,
performed with
clarity, pride, personal sensitivity,
or a touch of self preservation,
the perfect personal
touch of Halloween costume
found one night,
perhaps not at first,
but surely seen at
some point to please the
leisure of the eye,
as holidays come & go,
don't let loneliness mess
with custom,
Happy Halloween
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 8 4
Literature
Rotten Christmas Cooks
as often the eagle
flies,
so many axes in
the yard,
two are for
laughter, & seven
areas are liquid
scion bone,
temple of the moon
fire,
temple bloomed
from stone fires
& angry
closets, collected
in a fern
chalice,
the ache
of pardon,
decimation in
dreams,
the psyclone is
in my church
pocket now.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 5 5
Literature
Squirrels in the Halloween Thistle
after squirrels had
abandoned the
city parking
lots,
that for some
strange or
undetermined
reason, or reasoning,
always after
rain, in an
incredible, &
intangentially ghostly
way, resemble sacred
burying grounds
or fields,
with their
mortuary caricatures
come back,
hauntingly &
more than stately
ingrained,
the squirrels have
run off into the
Halloween thistle again!
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 7 0
Literature
You're a Little Baby Monkey, Arent You?
from the chilling thrilling
world of tree's,
froom zoo's of
the states,
& nation's that
blink,
the instinct to
mock,
or is it a shadow
higher than low,
it happens that
the light of a beast may
grow somehow
impunatively softer, & when
it raises it's eye
may startle the soul,
could one without
the trouble, a circus world
of ghost chambers
in cloth,
gather it's
hordes together,
when the elephant
survives the dead frosts
of this earth,
it is somehow of the
eye of people to firmly
be aware of &
lose some patience to
know, ask
for yourself, if it's
a trick or a treat, the
paper is put down,
what a comment,
you're a little baby monkey,
aren't you?
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 6 0
Literature
The Goblin Garden
the goblin garden, open
at odd hours of the
night,
something so terrifying to
the sensitive eye,
with vulgar colours never
to be crossed,
to a mirror half wiped
of it's dust,
without a shudder,
a mirror of half wiped
dust,
the goblin garden,
with a kind of horrible
novelty about it,
open at odd hours
of the night.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 5 4
Literature
The Crimson Fish
the crimson fish from
black hell,
with a red gaze, & then
silent again,
black hell with the feeling
of a door-blocked voice,
screaming to contort, like
a nest of snakes,
the crimson fish from black
hell,
feasting on the throat & brain,
of one slipped & gone
to that watery hell,
poised with the red gaze,
& silence, silence in the
semblance of a scream,
in the swelled semblance of
a scream, feasting on
the throat & brain,
just as Christmas Lights
& Carols are returned,
from black hell with feeling
of a door-blocked voice,
screaming to contort, like a
nest of snakes, poised with
red gaze, with a red gaze, & then
silent again, jingle bells.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 4 0
Literature
The Brain Had A thought For the Day
brain risen to the call,
locked together & luminous,
something physical,
the brain knew nothing
about it,
so merciless is nature,
that it somehow, like
a Halloween decoration, enchanted
in the spirit of life, seems
to insist,
brain risen to the call,
locked together & luminous,
there out-generalled, by
transparent fever-pitch,
paroxysm, or vampire,
like a happy heart, no
pain should connect to
it,
a creature on a
picture,
& a slab left
to it's ghost dust, all
this luminous against the
darkness, & aside from the
happy black cat, all left
alone & forever quite empty.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 2 0
Literature
The Castle of Bygone Kings
the castle of bygone kings,
a shadow heart,
with features directed
against the life of the
castle, & then detached
& of an unearthly quality
possessed,
a diseased thing,
ragged in the genius color
of iron,
with evil ghastly spirits
that disappeared like that
of empty sacks,
a thousand time prosed,
through the foliage,
their diseased shadows
strangely fierce & rapid,
ancient antipathies,
near a forest composed
of black woods, circled
in bones stretched to
crash at the stars, &
in that horrific glow, light
the petals of flowers,
& search for the pearl
light of Moon Rings.
:iconBootShopStory:BootShopStory
:iconbootshopstory:BootShopStory 4 0

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Groups

8 white cats from the
door paint,
the blue walls went
out, for two wrists
leaking blood the scent
of pumpkin seed & orange
spider tent, membrane,
the goo between
planets,
should the cemetery
stir.

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Jonathan
Artist | Other
United States
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:iconvipericvampire:
VipericVampire Featured By Owner Edited 3 days ago
Thanks for the watch!
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:iconoliverink:
OliverInk Featured By Owner Dec 6, 2018  Hobbyist Digital Artist
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:iconmmpratt99:
mmpratt99 Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2018  Professional General Artist
Thank You For the +Fav June 2017 by mmpratt99   The Brass Key Cover--Sequel by mmpratt99  
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:iconplaci1:
Placi1 Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2018
Thank you for the fave!
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:iconbootshopstory:
BootShopStory Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2018   Artist
Very glad fun find :)
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:iconfragile-yet-cunning:
Fragile-yet-CunNINg Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you :thanks:
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:iconbootshopstory:
BootShopStory Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2018   Artist
Very welcome :)
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:iconhubert61:
hubert61 Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2018
merci pour les favs :)
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:iconbootshopstory:
BootShopStory Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2018   Artist
:)
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:icongifter:
gifter Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2018
Thanks.
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