Posts Tagged ‘Fiction’

In my minds eye,
I see myself,
In the coming years,
Down on my luck,
In the brumal months,
Cloaked in a ragged greatcoat,

Among the dreary remains,
Of a night in a haze,
A melancholy stupor,
Initiated by the barman,
But not of his design,
A tap of liquid misery,

Will they find me in the gutter?
Slouched with my whisky friends,
Bottles of woe,
Among the scents of ethanol,
And spoils of spilled amber,
Spirits on the stones,

And when it comes to the grim autopsy,
Will the cause of death be phrenitis?
Or a broken heart?

A continuation of ‘Cerberus‘.

I was in hell,
I climbed out,
Through the barbed wire,
And viridian flames,
My charred body endures,
Even as strips of flesh yield,

That thrice-headed horror,
It hunted me here,
But it neglected the fact,
A prey cornered is vicious,
I dismembered it in glee,
I wear its teeth as trophies,

I don the cracked mask once more,
I am once more the apex,
I’m back,
They’ll suffer for their transgression,
Daring to end my imbrued crusade,
I’ll punish them all,

I hear the cattle call,
With their cell phones and banter,
Anathema to my senses,
My killer instinct,
It sends bolts down my spine,
Let’s punish the world,

Never was affluent in life,
So lets try unlife,
The world is my stage again,
My carnival of gore and chaos,
My charnel house,
My festival of blood,

My bloody legacy is renewed,
I’ll sit atop the corpses,
Of the whole world,
A holy throne,
Even the reaper shall bow to me,
Caked in the grisly glory,

Of my monument of gore.

The mouthpieces call,
Will we be spared this carnage?
The end times surely,
Pandemic panic,
Masks are amassed,

The fools plead,
Who is to fall next?
We’ll all gasp our last,
Deflective delirium,
The dead are used,

Hazmats pour in,
As reason spills out,
Our sense drained like a sore,

We should ask ourselves,
What is cloaked by this plague?
What is hidden by our hysteria?

A corona can blind.

Hello there inmates!

I hope you’re all having a fantabulous day! I know I am! This is a bit of a different kind of post today. It’s something of a self-promotion actually. Shameful self-promotion. I’ve been ruminating for days trying to work out how to word this one. I must have written and re-written this post two or three times by now. It’s infuriating!

You see, I just recently set up a Ko-fi page for the blog. It can be found here! For those of you who are not in the know, Ko-fi is a website that enables people to support their favoured struggling artist by donating small amounts of money. The price of a coffee in fact. Obviously this is just a starting point, people can donate as much or as little as they please. You may be able to see where this is leading…

I’ve created my own Ko-fi page not because I want people to pay me to keep writing or even because I feel I deserve it, but because I simply need some assistance. This is most definitely not a replacement for a job. It is simply a donation to help me write. I want to create more art for all of you inmates out there. I want to do some more pictures with costumes or more facepaint, and learn some basic photoshop wizardry. Maybe some kind of commissions? Those are just a handful of examples. The ideas are endless really.

So simply put, my point is, if anyone has enjoyed my work here at the asylum over the last few years, it’d mean the world if you could donate to help me out. All for the price of a coffee! If you don’t want to or cannot for whatever reason, that’s absolutely fine. I’m simply happy that people seem to read my work. There is absolutely no pressure at all. I’ve created a page specially for this on the blog here. So there we go, simple shilling from your Oldschool Harlequin. What am I like eh?

So, until next time, have a very crazy day!

I’m just leaning here,
Casually propping up the bar,
Thinking to myself,
I don’t have a drinking problem,
It goes down well,
It’s my tonic,

Beers and ciders,
Whiskies and spirits of all shades,
Absinthe ambrosia,
I don’t have a drinking problem,
It makes the world clearer,
As my vision blurs,

I don’t have a drinking problem,
It’s no issue at all,
Stumbling home,
It’s the right way to travel,
Inebriation has become a hobby,
Maybe a way of life,

The pangs begin,
Perhaps,
Just perhaps,
I have a drinking problem.

Been in this pit for a while,
Stuck in the dark,
My mind claws at the walls,
Leaving deep ruts,
I sit cradling my weary brain,

I have not the strength,
Nor the will,
To escape this place,
Can anyone tell me what sunlight is?
I don’t remember,

I forget what threw me down,
Maybe I jumped,
Would I choose this dismal hell?
To punish myself,
Or was it someone else?

I hear happiness walk past my pit,
Joys and laughs,
Elation and innocence,
They glance down timidly,
And hear my misery,

My moans scare them,
They flee in terror,
They leave me down here,
Trapped in the gloom,
Trapped in the pit.

The entity hungers,
Its realm shall be your eternal hell,
And it brought you here,
Into the fog,
Your agony is its lullaby,

The hooks call,
Dripping with thirst,
You will hang,
Left to die,
Over and over,

Its slaves will find you,
And take you screaming,
Through blade and chainsaw,
Club and disease,
You’ll feel the red glow,

You shall be grist,
For its tendrils,
Hook-like and quivering,
The fog god whispers,
And its servants obey,

Your suffering shall be its nourishment,
Even death is not an escape,
The entity hungers,

Hello there inmates!

So, it’s been yet another long while since I made a post like this. Once in 2014 and once in 2017. Oh my word!

But I felt that with a whole “new year, new me” mentality, I would display some of my older works. I realise it can be a slight pain to explore the archives here at the asylum. So I felt I could display some of my favourites from my past poetry and dark fiction. I believe I’ve said it before but I do fear it’s somewhat self-indulgent, so apologies for that!

Poetry

The Master Thief – A slightly satirical look at capitalism.
The Stranger – A silly little poem about wandering at night.
I’m Not Atlas – A poem about not feeling strong enough.
Cannibal Heart – A dark poem about a cannibal, or perhaps a lover.
Video Games – Simply applying video games and puns to life.
A bloody legacy – Part 1 of a “trilogy” of sorts.
Festival Of Blood – Part 2.
Cerberus – Part 3.
The Painted Man – A story of a man shaped by society.

Fiction

Bob – The monster hunter Ryan Sargent talks about his ‘partner’.
Seeing through the lies – Ryan Sargent talks about a past experience.
The Asylum Mythos: The Hag-Man – A bizarre inmate speaks.
The Asylum Mythos: The Pint-Sized Cult – The Hag-Man tells a horrific story.

So there we go! Quite a variety there eh? I hope some of you find something you like among all of that mess. Every piece of writing I create is important to me, so I’d appreciate it immensely if you would let me know what you think.

I am currently hard at work on some new poems and scribblings. In fact, I do expect to have one done within the next day or so. Also, I’m attempting to begin a new project soon, related to serial killers and criminology, combined with supernatural elements. That was actually why I included the Ryan Sargent stories. It’s all related you know! Thank you all for your time my darling fellow inmates!

Have a very crazy day!

Hello there inmates!

Hope your Friday the 13th has been suitably mad. I hope you haven’t been agitating any poor innocent masked men. Haha!

It’s not really a secret that I’m a geek. I always have been and I always will be. I like watching superhero movies. I adore video games of many and varied genres. My collection of games is a bit absurd actually. I like quite a few anime though I feel slightly sheltered on that front. I occasionally buy figures and posters just because I can. I endlessly imagine characters from certain animes clashing and I constantly envision conversations between video game characters. Iron Man, Cloud Strife, Sonic, Zidane Tribal and Hellboy, these are my chums! Among others, of course. Nerdiness runs in these veins, I promise you. I actually intend to make a blog post about the random trinkets and loot that I currently own. I’ll get on that eventually.

This particular post, however, is about a specific geeky item. Sort of. You see, I recently subscribed to a website that sends crates of geeky goodies once a month. Along the same lines as Loot Crate. This website is called Super Loot (link enclosed for anyone who is interested). They’re a UK-based company that has a few different options for crates. From a general “mystery box” to a comic box. I opted for the mystery geek box, just because it intrigued me really. My box arrived this week and I fancied the idea of sharing the few things that I got in it. Partly showing off my new stuff, partly spreading the word about these guys I suppose.

So, here goes…

First off, we have a humble Daredevil Pen.

Followed by an Incredible Hulk Plush.

Then a Vision bobblehead!

Penultimately, a Black Panther Pop! figure.

And last but not least, a Westworld t-shirt.

So, there you have it! Some pretty neat stuff eh? Worked out cheaper than if I had bought them individually too! It pays to be frugal, does it not? Thanks very much to the guys over at Super Loot for the awesome stuff. I hope that some of you fellow inmates go and have a look at their site. I think they’re doing a good job. Can’t wait until next month now, it can’t come soon enough! Thank you if you’ve managed to get through this post of sheer self-indulgence, but it helps to break up the monotony, no?

Hope you all have a very crazy day inmates!

Three lions weep,
An English rose wilts,
Saint George hangs his head low,

Have we lost our way?
A lethargic populace and uncaring elite,
A blight of bigotry,

England is drunk upon past glories,
Like wines taken from distant lands,
At sabre point,

Empire is dead,
We are the ashes,
Soon to be scattered,

Our brothers of the Hills,
The Lochs,
The Isles,
And across the sea,
All creeds and ways of life,
All forsaken,

We are part of this world,
We do not hold thrones above it,
Humanity is our real flag,
Hubris has painted a sorry picture,
Something akin to a red cross.