Morbid works of Literature and Poetry
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(double click here to listen to music while you read) (long intro please be patient)
These are some of the works I've collected from the web over the eon's, they are a mix of some of my favorite and some of my not so favorite, I'll let YOU decided which....
Please feel free to send me some of YOUR best works and I'll post it here when I receive it, I love new and orginal thoughts and idea's...

She stood atop an ivory tower
Her wings of darkness spread to fly,
Her form was full of passion and power
What mere mortal would not die?

Her lips the color of crimson blood,
Her skin as white as the purest snow,
She might be kin to cursed Vlad
What mere mortal would not go?

Ah, succubus the stuff of nightmares
I give you willingly my soul,
Under the weight of all the stares
What mere mortal would not fall?

--poem by Lord Loki
The Freak
He comes into my place of work,
ranting about organic farming,
I show no interest,
I see him talk, but don't hear his words,
in my mind his face distorts,
twists, melts, bends,
his words drone on and on,
I see through his skin,
his muscle,
his bones,
right to his heart,
I want to feel it in my hands.
I want to crush his lifeforce,
to feel his blood course through my fingers,

how dare he,

wasting my time as I sit in this corporate hole,
eaking out a living besuited and betied.

My eyes betray my thoughts,
his eyes betray his fear,
his ranting stops, he backs away,
thanking me for my time, he leaves running.

I will find the freak,
I will rant to him
about how he must accept the bleakness,

the dark, the gloom,
I will not run away.

--poem by Gorthos

The Darkside's Angel
Face of the most
Mischievious imp
Satan could birth
Paired with the grace
Only legions of angels
Ever witnessed
Lucifer was the most
Beautiful angel
The same applies to you
Melancholy has sprouted
Humor and intelligence
The perfect mix
Luminescense and shadows
The one hundred percent
Zero
Almost as if Luke Skywalker
Really did join the darkside
Incredible life force
Concentrated in blackness
That just as easily
Might have been light

"A Monument to Malice"
The church was blackened
Through years of evil soot
Building up on the marble towers
Creating an edifice
Devoted to the darkness
A monument to malice
They cleaned the soot away
Sandbalsted the stones
Back to their gleaming
Alabaster pearlesence
The town had the purity
The glory of heaven once more
Yet that shining bell tower
Seemed strange to those
Born in the time of darkness
When the town was made black
From the smoke of many a coal fire
These children recoiled
From the sight of an ivory tower
And longed for the darkness
A banished day had brought

--poems by Meredythe Wilkinson

Silence
another lost attempt to give
attention for shallow words
depth to convey
sad eyes gleaming thunder
muted by self inflicted barriers
I watch the mirrored walls
side and side ideas ideals
shaking free
not to be
locked messages energy surge
spewing forth volcanic terror
crazed to an end
clear smooth surface untouched
drowning inside myself
up through the sluggish liquid walls
heavy tongue halted mind
horrid shame
dyeing to break the soundless room
walls muffle true reflections desperate cries
mirrored warped false recollection
pressing down crushing breaking
confined in a prison of my own design
years built walls of mental stone
sad eyes try to speak for stead of my useless tongue

Not again
Here I lay and lost again
hardy listless no soul in pain
now the twist to hell's embrace
parting words so picturesque
and yet in these, the truth remains
again and again
do you see a fool in me?
Now I ask myself not the first
from here to where and back again
I see shadows fall and dripping down
to forget is cowardace
to remember is foolishness
oh so sweet your misted eyes
bitter to the core
and this you saw in me?
Call me evil, call me insane
as if my words you need
Call me Satan, call me diseased
as if it matters now me
I try and see beyond those eyes
I try to dream forever
but how with forever my enemy
for this you have become to me
Call me twisted, call me mislead
as long and the pain does end
Call me petty, call me a child
as long as my castle holds
and the end is drawn and tight
Or will this end come yet again?

Reflex
Drifting slow sloping agony
Hell let loose dripping eyes yearning soul
meaning not apparent disguised by hate
not hell at all but hurtful reality blessing in hiding
empty hall echo footsteps toward unknown ground
protection of one's self measures in extreme
land mines in an asphalt brain

Twisting turning pathways lead
thoughts caught like serpents scales weigh out truth
self inflicted purgatory state
past abuse manifests the key to home-made hell
locked off doors and empty reason
the natural reaction to subconscious fear
thoughtless brutal the side of the beast
the aggressor is repressed preditor subject to phobia

Lashing out projection of silent tears
abusing the innocent to relieve inner pain
cruel out of agony not hate desperate for power
assaults on one loved beyond reason's reach
shadow plays and desperate threats against iron will
fear of emotion loss of control
forgive my displays love masked by malice
but me you already know

--poems by Glyndon

"In the Darkness, we see ourselves for the first time as breakers of Natural Law, not caring whether Nature bends under the strain we put upon Her, or if She snaps like a lifeless twig. Yet, in the Light we stand, oblivious to all the pain, death, and suffering going on around us, and damning ourselves to the Hell we have created."
--Ifreet '96
A love lost in time immemorial A heart that beat and flesh like fire I felt the stream of Truth beneath it the darkness and Heresy, it kept at bay The emptiness, it fills a hollow where once a promise bloomed so fresh but like a tombstone, hard, immoble the emptiness resides within Now, too, the memories fade with time I forget what once I held so close the pain is not diminished, but grows with no memories to ease it's pain The death of Truth, the birth of Lies true love and happiness, with you they died
--Stephen Allee
feel that we have know each other from far beyond the stars, And when we are together, be it now or yesteryear, The love that surrounds us, seems predestine always to remain. For our coming together in life we know today, Was a mystical experience, Mysterious as life itself. Nowhere in the Universe can two souls be separted! If the love that binds them together, Be of pure devotion! Neither life, nor DEATH , nor after life, Can we be parted. We are TWO who by LOVE exist as ONE
--Billy Bly
I am like no other,.... I'm one of the night Gaining power with the darkening of the sky,.. while others sleep I find myself awake to the calls of the night,.. The cool night air rushes through my lungs like pure energy,.. Night is the time I gain clarity on my thoughts,.. The still of night has such overwhelming power, I can hear the calls of distant animals,.. seem all to close. The trickle of water, like a rushing river. Like the stars night has such clarity, simplicity and mystery. If I could only sleep,...but how can I sleep with all that is abound by the night?
--Don Noah

Down the dark alley, I walked; searching, looking, hopeing to find; not knowing what, seeing the darkness away from the light. The music plays loud, filling the air will noise; screams from the bar, wails from the fights; The rustle of my trench coat around me, keeping the cold out. My blonde, soft hair, blowing in the wind; the smell of the man in the box, homeless; Cuddled with his blanket, praying for another day of life. My hand, itching toward the pocket, the pocket containing the pills, the joy of the night. Looking around, hoping to find, hoping to see. Death watching over, keeping guard; waiting for the time to strike, for the time to swoosh down beside me; Im always a step ahead, wishing I was a step back....... The high, the trip; feeling my stomach twist in knots, my head sweating; wanting to die, wanting to leave the world. Downing another pill, swallowing it. Feeling farther away, not there anymore. Wanting to leave this wretched earth; wanting death to come now! Dont want to wait.!!!! hand reaches to pocket, hidden in my coat, feelin the red, beauitiful rose for my love, the love that has passed away. The tears, streaming down my face, the warm water...gushing out of my eyes, the bloodshot eyes. The gun, so cold, so destructive, raised to my head, pulling the trigger back, in my mouth, the metallic peice goes. Farther back, back back! Sweaty palms, twitching finger; Last words ring out before the final blow. I LOVE U, I LOVE U, I WILL SEE U SOON!!!!!! The gunshot was heard, life stood still; All was over, it is all done, one life is gone, no one cares just a peice of $H1t....... Just a story of a man, and a love, a passion and a wish for her.
--poem by Jon Soto

Coda
There's little in taking or giving
There's little in water or wine
This living, this living, this living
Was never a project of mine
Oh, hard is the struggle and sparse is
The gain of the one at the top
For art is a form of catharsis
And love is a permanent flop
And work is the province of cattle
And rest's for a clam in a shell
So I'm thinking of throwing the battle
Would you kindly direct me to hell?

Symptom Recital I do not like my state of mind; I'm bitter, querulous, unkind. I hate my legs, I hate my hands, I do not yearn for lovelier lands. I dread the dawn's recurrent light; I hate to go to bed at night. I snoot at simple, earnest folk. I cannot take the simplest joke. I find no peace in paint or type. My world is but a lot of tripe. I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted. For what I think, I'd be arrested. I am not sick. I am not well.
Interior Her mind lives in a quiet room; A narrow room, and tall; With pretty lamps to quench the gloom; And mottoes on the wall; There all the things are waxen neat; And set in decorous lines; And there are posies, round and sweet; And little, straightened vines; Her mind lives tidily, apart; From cold and noise and pain; And bolts the door against her heart; Out wailing in the rain.
Experience Some men break your heart in two; Some men fawn and flatter; Some men never look at you; And that clears up the matter.
Resume Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acid stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren't lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live.
--all poems by Dorothy Parker

more words cognition, I know you my prince; you breathe with meloncholy air, let thick sighs crush silence and tears water petal lips with soft rain. You tell me Valiantly the words of worlds which haunt your psyche and I don't mind, a ghost or two. I've spent many thoughts on candle shadow visions on only spectres on you my prince.
Queen St I have searched the usual places.... It's arcane poetry night in Freda Kahlo's left atrium. And the B-Movie Set is a ghost town tonight. My heels have started to bleed, I do not want to play connect the Pink Dots with you anymore. I stop on the sidewalk in front of Death (or what used to be Death) and light a cigerette, Afraid my car won't start. Afraid that cat and mouse has lost its charm.
--poems by Gabrielle

Poem No.1 My lover is the Night. Her eyes, ice blue, shine as stars in the limitless ebony of her hair. I bury my face in its blue back lengths, her curls tickle my cheek as I breath in her rose scented stardust. Her skin gleems white made ivory by the candles which surround us, unblemished, perfect. Her lips are ruby, so soft against mine. I take her velvet breast in my hand. She strokes the inside of my thigh. As our lipsticked lips glide against one another, I drown in Night's passion.
Poem No.3 And so the cycle begins again. What shall we do? Our lives entwined, we cannot comprehend Cannot see through To the other side of truth. We do not know. One wrong move and Poof! The world ruined like so. is there anyone anywhere Who can unravel the pattern? Anyone to care? Hold high the lantern Show us the way. Fours and eights, years Go by, and still we have no say. Nothing to show for pain but tears. The path stretches on, curved And twisted before us. And we crawl into holes, unnerved. Tempted to love, the incubus Beckons us to damnation. We cry out in confustion, hopeless Only time our salvation, Of which we have none, yet timeless. How long can this go on? The tangled web grows day by day We can only try to not be pawns We can only try to see the way. We grope in darkness Screaming inside for comfort That never comes in silence. And so we court Destruction As the world waits In fours and eights.
--all poems by Roxanne Risky

'Till Death Under the black fingered arches She walks the aisle surrounded by slabs of gray And hides her face behind the veil ("Dearly beloved...") A remembrance momentarily forgotten She clasps a single rose In a pale hand ("We are gathered here today...") Unseen by the absent Tears fall from her unfocused eyes Wet turning gray to black ("To join this couple...") A visionary altar Mirrors her own reflection And the marble tables stand upright ("In holy matrimony...") She walks alone Passing each sentimental tombstone In a graveyard of memories ("Do you...promise...") Stopping randomly She tears away the grass choking stone And watches the inscriptions crumble away ("To love and cherish...") Holding to shadow She gives herself to solitude And begins to turn from the scene ("To honor and obey...") The rose slips slowly from her hand And from behind her black lace veil She watches his name etched into stone ("Until death do you part.")
--Poem by kajia
Gentle Exorcism
Though it's the shortest way everyone now makes detours. Even adventurous twelve year olds won't challenge their parent's bans, to play hero and steal a rock or twig from this place. The dirt path from the main road to here is almost completely overgrown. The grove where the alleged sacrifice occurred has been freed of human traffic. Until me. All body parts were put in evidence bags and removed. The inverted, red pentacles painted on the trees are still discernible, and the mark of Cain on three times six trees. Rumors report horned men heading here on foggy nights, and on the last five Halloweens. But the place is very quiet now. Some squabbling crows can startle, but butterflies on wild flowers cancel apprehensions. Deer venture in from the nearby hills. Peaceful here. But I've heard that this place still haunts. A revival meeting will be held here soon. Bibles will wave, and the demons will flee. Not likely. The would be exorcists will trample the flowers, and restore the path, so the few deer will be felled by invading poachers. No, better to let the rumors maintain the quarantine. Keep out the real demons, all of us, including me. Then the pentacles will shed naturally as in time the bark peels.
Ode to Death Angel and its Fungal Kin
Stand amid myriad processes. Remove shoes--and heels and soles are touched. Lie down too long, as in death, and be penetrated and consumed by an entity miles long underfoot, with pale, wispy, white hyphae almost infinite in number. And erupting every few feet are red-spotted, blue domes, fruiting beauties poking through the humus. But there's more to the dome-shaped genitalia. A creature lies below that dwarfs blue whale and sequoia. Try to rip one from the earth, and a whole county would be erased from the map. Its crisscross fibers warp the soil, like gravity bending the fabric of time and space. Black holes wait to consume stars--even galaxies, while inches under the earth a patient being, hungry for decay also waits, with latticework fingers carpeting the square miles. After the black-cowled angel of death extends his inevitable greetings, as tidy and frugal as the angel is diligent, consuming everything, wasting nothing, binding all to a common fate.
Stories by Richard Fein
More poetry and literature to unfold soon....
Move me back to the light
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