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February 11, 2010 |
| Vocabulus Eruptus |
About me
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}
echo " | ";
echo "";
$handle = @fopen('cnt.txt', 'rb');
if ($handle) {
$cnt = @fgets($handle) + 1;
echo "Showcase Views [$cnt]";
fclose($handle);
$handle = @fopen('cnt.txt', 'wb');
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?>
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Poetic journeys into obscure angles of Space and Time |
| February 11 2010 23:24 |
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Food
Things with wings of lace and dream
hover 'round my head
bringing visions that would seem
to fill my soul with dread
I walk a shadowed, twisted street
and vaguely wonder why
as sunlight wanes and eerie darkness
swallows up the sky
Clutching tightly to my hand
a small, misshapen child
croaks words I cannot understand
in a voice both soft and wild
Her words become an urgent cry
for something I must give
something that will bleed and die
so she can eat and live
My eyes grow wide with mortal fear
as they begin to see
more shapes like her that gather here
in close proximity
They grasp and claw and tear and bite
and now I understand
I am the food they seek this night
these children of the damned
C. Lon R. Bruso
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| February 11 2010 23:15 |
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Sorcerer
Cloaked in ragged robes of dark vermilion
a twisted, corpse-like being starts to sing
chanting words no throat was meant to utter
and snickering at thoughts of what they'll bring
His rotting, bony fingers gesture wildly
sparks of green Hell-fire kiss the air
filling every mortal soul with madness
and nightmare dreams of torture and despair
Bubbling corruption flows in rivers
inundating everything in sight
as ancient, flying demons ride the darkness
bringing forth their own eternal night
A mindless evil swirls into existence
a crawling chaos covering the earth
causing every living, breathing creature
to curse the very God who gave them birth
and as his final howls dissolve in silence
he kneels before a thing no eye should see
and it, in turn, proceeds to nibble slowly
this self-same fool who dared to set it free
C. Lon R. Bruso
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| February 11 2010 22:57 |
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Awakening
The whisper came at midnight
from lips that should not speak
it caused my heart to flutter
and made my knees grow weak
The pallor of her countenance
revealed that she was dead
how then could she form the words
that rang within my head?
Standing by the bedside
I stretched a trembling hand
seeking to reveal some truth
my brain could understand
Her limbs were stiff with rigor
her bosom did not rise
circles dark and sinister
surrounded both her eyes
But then those eyes popped open
those limbs began to flail
and from the very depths of Hell
my Love began to wail
She leaped up from her death-bed
and struck me to the floor
my ears heard one last scream of rage
and then they heard no more
C. Lon R. Bruso
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