Deck The HallsDeck The Halls I The red lights flickered brightly on the bare walls of the dimly lit room, and they bathed it in a glow that left no place for Christmas cheer. In the corner of the room stood a Christmas tree. Its lights and ornaments lie in a heap on the floor, and human entrails were strung about the tree, and organs hung from the boughs. To top off the garish display there was a foot placed with care where the star had originally called home. “It’s the same guy,” stated John Roberts, the detective assigned to the case. John was single and he lived in a small apartment over a dingy pizza place. He had been married aDeck The Halls
The Cold Word“The Cold Word”The Cold Word
You say that it’s a war of ideals I say ideas, and you can’t win. I have slain the Haiku. Seventeen syllables
each with a shadow scorched as a reminder across my page.
Sonnets you say? Well I, I have Sestinas. Complex and crafty they are silent at night. The free verse is kept, safe by my lines.
You have poets? In Cuba? Our skies will be made bright by your iambic pentameter. I have some prose guys in Turkey, with memoirs pointed at your capitals.
It’s simple, you &nbs
Beast Behind the Door“Beast Behind the Door”Beast Behind the Door
My crimson eyes pierce bitter betrayal, as flames course fluidly through my veins. My heart has become
a blast furnace, stoked
by the manicured hands of hate.
My sturdy cage door, locked by my own hands. It begs to be opened. A shaft of light beams through the peephole, writing, “open me” upon the dusty floor. Turning my arced and bony
spine to the command, I sob.
Gripped by unseen hands, I claw at my face, my chest, and at sheets the color of my eyes. “
Tastes Like CharcoalDay after day love turns gray, like the skin of a dying man. –Pink Floyd “One of my Turns” It was the third of my infamous movie marathons, and the theme was rock operas. We were all gathered in the basement of my friend’s house beginning the rock oper-a-thon. Rock operas have always held a certain allure for me, perhaps it is the deeper meanings that I meticulously search out in them. Scott’s basement was the perfect spot for a marathon like this, it was semi finished and was a wide-open space capable of housing the marathon and a ping-pong tournament. This was the first one of these gatherings that turned out to be a huge success withTastes Like Charcoal
Dream Hazein a dim lit room, two figures breath in silence. lingering in the moment.Dream Haze
behind the eyes, the scene flashes, changes to two entwined bodies.
skin as smooth as silk, placed delicately upon the other. hands tremble as the fingers glide.
both heart beats quicken, blood pouring through the veins. one hand pressed to the other's cheek.
then a new light floods into the room. the hazy eyes slowly grasp the situation. the lover's tango was merely a dream, and yet it produces a warm smile upon the lips.
late in the eveninglate in the evening, or even in the early morning, thoughts from the day can be gathered. savouring, moments of life in which we just exist.late in the evening
one can delight in how they sung on a sidewalk, dancing to the tune of a bass line. on an empty street with just a touch of traffic, frolicing, three steps forward and two steps back.
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"somebody once said its written in the stars..I say its written in the comic books."
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"somebody once said its written in the stars..I say its written in the comic books."
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"somebody once said its written in the stars..I say its written in the comic books."
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"somebody once said its written in the stars..I say its written in the comic books."
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"somebody once said its written in the stars..I say its written in the comic books."
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"somebody once said its written in the stars..I say its written in the comic books."
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"somebody once said its written in the stars..I say its written in the comic books."
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The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
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