Saturday, 14 May 2016

On Stresses, Big and Small

'Tis as a truly noir night,
where frosty winds blow o'er the hills.
To fill one's soul with fright,
and encompass their body with chills.

And we are like the leaves,
which lie upon near lifeless trees,
and it a thing of shears and sheaves,
which clip with an endless glee.

Thou should know of which I speak,
as none escape this weight that is key,
for all our heats jump when hearst the creak,
of such strange things as betake comfort's fee.

Wednesday, 4 May 2016

En Finalis

WARNING: This is a sequel to The Lizard and the Popppycock (August, 2014), and From Poppycock to Poppycock (April, 2016). Please read them before this.

The Lizard and the Poppycock were sauntering through the wood,
when one of them said "hey, let's end this stupid story arc,
(because we all agree that it's high time they should)
cuz' it ain't worth a golden mark."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This posting will mark the end of the somewhat ongoing Lizard and Poppycock poetry arc. Much as I enjoyed it, it's high time I wrote some poetry with a different theme, and will be pursuing something a bit more "thought-out" shortly. I intend to release the Transmutation part 3 near the end of this month, will likely follow with a couple non-arc related stories, and may release a couple more poems (I have something in the works, but am still trying to link humour with horror. So we'll see). I think the Lizard and the Poppycock might make good comedic relief in future stories, though. Thoughts?

Sunday, 1 May 2016

On Tentacles and Horror

A wind blows o’er leafless trees,
Who rattle gently in the breeze,
As if by some unseen force
Which defies man’s will to be seen.

A noumenal phenomenon,
To make one feel woebegone.
Be it monstrous or will of the mind?
Who created this strange find?

Who created this thing,
That it should be wrote overring?
Could these stories truly be,
An author’s mere redundancy?