Red or Blue?  What a stupid question.  Take them both and follow me.

All Made Up

Just a quick bumble of words for an October photo a day challenge.  The photo them for the day being "All Made Up".  Click image for full-sized version.


In The Shadow


The following piece is something I've been fucking around with for a while.  It began as pages upon pages of stream of consciousness pablum.  I scrawled thoughts on pages in an attempt to push through an experience.  Particularly, in regards to sleep paralysis and how I have experienced it in the past.  Nothing like some of the tales of old hags and aliens.


My scribblings got me nowhere and I attempted to form a short story out of the best of it.  It did not want to be a short story.


I moved on to something poetic...and got nowhere.


In the end, I jammed it forcefully into a rather ungainly, sometimes unmelodic and stuttering form of poetry called a sestina.  What better form for something formless, eh?


It starts simply with a more commonly recognized cinquain and then flows through the 39 lines of the sestina from there (6 stanzas of 6 lines each plus a 3 line stanza to end, 11 syllables per line, and with the very specific format of the sestina in tact).


I still think of it as a work-in-progress, but I also think it's time to set it free.

Nothing Man


Don’t tell me it’s nothing

that shadow looming over me

bearing down with much foreboding

cannot move, yet mind exploding

envelops ’til I cease to be.

Sleep is interrupted, but I do not wake

I know not whether I’m conscious or in dream

No effort moves me, I remain fully still

A dark figure looms over me in silence

My throat closes on its own cries of nothing

Lying deathly frozen in the In-between

This reality conceals the In-between

Hiding gossamer ripples left by its wake

Everything obscures a horrendous nothing

As in a drug-hazed, heavy, oppressive dream

Drowning everywhere in blood-curdling silence

The brain is buzzing and fuzzy; hardly still


Strive to break the spell, in vain; I remain…still

Neither here nor there, just hung up In-between

My voice has been taken, I’m left in silence

Peace in pieces under the undulate wake

I cannot move a muscle to end the dream

I don’t wish myself something which is nothing

To be silenced within His oozing nothing

Suffocating on a distent tongue held still

In His hopeless phantasmagorical dream

Prisoner of His infinite In-between

Eternity will pass ere I ever wake

Tingling cerebellum heralds His silence


Palpable spite belies the Spectre’s silence

A vile black hole’s volume of wanton Nothing

The pall lies over as at a somber wake

Posed in rictal scream of the forever still

Pursuing a Prince’s path to the In-between

Demolished, I fall back to the fugue of dream


He rules with choking fear in this waking dream

His rules suffocate me in frightful silence

Slender stalking phantom in His In-between

There’s never any refuge from His Nothing

The Shadow looms in my light; He waits there still

But perhaps there is no dream from which to wake

Dreaming of what happens if I never wake

In silence, In-between and forever still

I am weary; phasing out…into nothing.


Ritual Murder

Twenty soldiers at attention

Impulse forces their surrender

Once selected, start ascension

Uniformly straight and slender

Victim smiles at the offender

Abrasive wheel upon the skin

Both enjoy a moment’s splendor

Before a knowing fateful grin

Persistent replays of the sin

The Soldier glows in your embrace

Following his deadly brethren

To cloak you in fog of disgrace

The Reaper beams upon your face

In truth, both transform, both consume

One soiled, dirty, crushed in place

The other hides malignant bloom



Thought While Falling Asleep Last Night (This Morning for Some Folks)


held things too hot

held things too cold

of things roughly 

had a hold


i am paying in the gut

for food feasted

whilst wild flush'd


casting loose a wary wind

so sooth some

pink'd piggish sin


careful, yes i must admit

trigger'd trips of

unbid shits