Tag Archives: Fantasy

My Evil Pen Once Again


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My Evil Pen Once Again

Crimson hands nailed to the crucifix, a mental martyr for all mankind, now firing mortar shells at their warp minds while I’m on fire. Welcome to my mad world, invasion of the sanity snatcher.  This is a historic event, placing my beating trusted heart on a silver platter of judgement. I am not trying my hardest to get through to you for you to save your own life; I am asking we join our forces so we can destroy sanity together. I am the prime example of the worst writer to grace this planet, Oh, I can write but my words are that dark you cannot read this.

In my head all I hear is… “Life is too difficult, it’s a cynical miracle, if the pains not emotionally whimsical it’s probably physical, poetically and lyrically visual; my words are terribly killing you, sent here by the wind to preferably out-best you to my pinnacle proportions, I put the devil in his coffin, Figaro-Figaro! Mr. Barber let me go and cut open my own throat, I’m abysmal. This world is too much for me to hold so I am running for that door.”

Now is it classed as suicide or homicide if your evil persona tries to kill you?  The temperature I’m blowing is either hot or cold; within the blink of an eye I’ve turned the heat down into a flaming temper. I’m a poisonous flower; as a toddler I was a bad seed little monster. Half the time if I change my mind I have to change my life. Those broken words and these broken wings are holding hostage this world which cannot do a thing. Run for life!! Here comes my pen, again. Follow me – Follow me, you’re the only one who can deliver me towards infinity.

This world belongs at the back of my mind,

When I have flung my body back in time,

My tongues not working I guess it’s time to write,

One lost person isn’t cause for a riot,

I’m back from the dead, the baddest to death; madness vents while my friends and family burn.

You have no remote chance to control me,

I never hang my head because I channel this anger well,

No soul has a hold, a centrefold that should be censored gold but my words promote worm food.

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If We Only Die Once, I Want To Die With You


If we only die once I want to die with you

If we only die once, I want to die with you. I had a dream of our perfect life together, holding hands in the midst of each other’s battles. If we are side by side we could conquer it all, we could be royal lovers in our ravishing dark land. Too much booze brings out our slurring kiss of life; me + you = us. Self-destruct with me and I promise you will not be alone in this world full of people.

I only have one heart so I can only share it with one other person; you! We have nothing else but this.  You give me life being around you, if you were to ever leave me the loneliness would be my serial killer every day. As time goes by and I haven’t seen your face in a while, I begin to think I could live without you but when you arrive in front of me, the feeling of loving something which is precise for my soul comes flooding back in. You do more for me than you know.

I love you, the term sounds so overused so let me just say I love us. Billions of people within this world and I haven’t met them all but there is one I cannot live without. I want to grow old and senile with you, forget you one moment and dance in our treasured memories the next. I stand a man upon this page ready to fight for love on its own battlefield. Over this past year my life has been about you, you haven’t gone that far from my mind but you always arrive at my door; your knock knocks me down. Something bigger than my ego and passion is at work. I know you and it is a love of stellar proportions. I can daydream of you for hours and hours, to the outside world I am living with a daze but inside myself I am building a greater future for us both, keeping our love alive. A man would go crazy without a proper woman.

I am being held by the angels; does that mean I am in danger? And now I can’t stay with you, I am afraid that death is my cure. Have I jumped my last stepping stone? Let myself in through heavens doors. Set forth from the light beyond, from the fight before I have to stay strong. Laying here, going, going, gone. Then being thrown in the darkest of holes, at the back of my home. My eyes I have to keep them opened, the reaper is soul shopping, he says “More often than none, you will be homed within that coffin.”  No! We could be together forever, until death do us part, I would go further than that just to protect both of our hearts. I would travel to heaven or even to hell, just so I can save you, my love, and make you my world. Now watch me deteriorate, as I feel all this weight, of looking fear in the face, seems like now we’re in a race, in this day and age, can’t be without the key to my cage, “What would they say if I wanted out?” They would say. “Alex, you are not seeing this straight, it is normal for you to be feeling this way.” To me, today, towards this world, keep me away.

Destiny is written within us all, each footstep is a word, each mile is a sentence and each life is a book, no matter how the ending the novel shall be finished.

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Writing Sanity is Insane 2


Insane 11

My opaquely dysfunctional posture stands firm, this sedition could coffin this world. The human race kicked me out of their private club-house, now I am taking up new hobbies, dismemberment.  I am transcending through my writing, my transport to the other world. My climb to the top is in a spiral staircase crisis, giving myself a minuscule nudge into the unknown immortal coil, this is all I know. Read between my lines until you get cross-eyed.

I am a totem of total solemn; my soul purpose in this asylum is to tear until worn-out, my body, collapse these obituary columns which keep me grounded whilst I run away from my demons. Where I have been, your imagination is classed as a weapon for explosive exploitation; I swaddle all of this twaddle I dabbled in. Mirror promises with filled eyes, I can’t look at myself, the fear will become non-fiction.

insane 12

I overshadow my own characteristics, feral and feeble, I paint on a clown smile; the tears are real. These words may seem as a pathetic or embarrassing; this is only the top layer of my thick skin I am flaying and writing upon. I emaciate my mind so I can traipse back from the fires inside; I fill these pages because I can no longer afford to fill myself. All I can do is march forward with my fingers.

I learned from when I was a toddler, people are the worst type of monsters; so I grew-some and became gruesome.

I have a way of bringing the best out of you when the worst is going on. I notice everyone jumping on the bandwagon whilst I am fall off the wagon. I don’t want your money or pity, I want your eyes. I can show any extra enemy an empty welcome entry or experimental empathy entirely for eternity, depending on my mood. I will never divide my divine but deny all of this denial as the devil has deeded death on me.

Slinging slithering slander as a sufficient serpent strike suffering in stupendous stillness. This is where I will be, padded cells for all. Blessed with this curse to slur my toxic thoughts from my fantasy world ravished by war, patients versus doctors; who will win? Who will win? Me…

insane 13

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The Murder of Crows – Short Story


List of birds of Western Australia

List of birds of Western Australia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hey guys, sorry it has been a couple of weeks since my last confession with writing. I have been battling some personal demons, these things don’t know when to quit. But I am back with a short story for my fellow followers about one of my favourite animals, the crow. Hope you enjoy. Comment – rate and please like. Thanks. Your writer friend, me!

The Murder of Crows – Short Story

Peer pressure and wayward ways, we were called the Front yard boys. There was Jimmy “Pecker” Peck, he was our leader. The toughest kid in school but the weakest in his household, every time we met up he always had a fresh-cut or shining sable eye. He was always the first into conflict and last to leave our gang when the streetlights flicked on. Troy “Peeps” Epson, he was the brains of our operation, he let us copy his homework which he handed in on time and received full marks. Don’t let the thick rimmed glasses fool you; he takes them off every time we fight for school yard territory or rep.

Stevie “Ste” Banks, he was the fastest runner in our school and always excelled in every gym lesson we had. He was the only black kid in school, so he hung around with all of us so no one got the wrong impression to make fun of his colour when the adults weren’t around. And for the nineteen thirties Idaho, it was rather a big deal for some eyes.

And then there was me. Derek “Mazie” Maze, second in command to Pecker, we were that must have best friends we finished off each other’s sentences and usually saw eye to eye when it came to having fun and causing mayhem.

In a lined formation we four already bored on a gloriously saffron morning of the best day of the week, Saturday. We walk down the dust alley at the back of our neighbourhood, we hung out there, telling jokes, looking at saucy magazines one of us had stolen from our big brothers, or let Peeps come up with a great ways to cause havoc in our town without getting caught.

“God, I’m already bored and barely even weekend, tell me if this is what getting old means then life can keep it, cause I never want to be bored.” Pecker spat, chucking dust rocks at trash cans.

Peeps lay on the grass opposite the trash cans. I sat wracking my brains, trying to figure out how not to waste this perfect day with my friends. Ste dribbles a half crushed coca cola can with his feet.

I pipe up. “Peeps what’s on your mind buddy?” With his hands placed behind his head he stares up at circling birds.

“Did you know when birds hatch from their eggs they imprint on the first bird or creature they see.”

“That’s it!” I leap from the trash can. “I’ve always wanted a pet but my mom is allergic to cats and dogs and money is kind’a tight but she always said I could have a bird.”

With his arms opened in an order to us all. “Well lets go get Mazie a pet bird.” Pecker urges.

We all arrive at the Gershwin Tree, the biggest tree in all the state. My dad used to tell me the story of the Gershwin Tree before bed. Legend has it the tree only homes crows, crows help deliver souls to the other side once they had passed. Hundred of crows flock around the area where we stand; the tree is a shrine for them all. It feeds and homes them. Caws and flapped wings are all you can hear. More than a dozen birds a keeping watchful eyes on us from the floor as they forage in the ground for worms.

“You want it Mazie, go fetch.” Pecker commands with a pointed finger.

Is it a bad time to reveal this is a bad idea?

“Yeah Mazie, good luck teaching a stupid bird anything buddy, why not get a grass snake their probably hundreds in this field to feed this murder.” Ste amps his smirks comment at me.

One or two birds are fine to be around but when I am climbing up a prison full of these murders my thoughts will begin to race. One – two steps; I am standing in the shadow of the godlike conifer tree. The calls of the birds echo deep within my soul, a wild fear takes hold of my breaths. I reach my hands up and take hold of a furry terracotta branch and begin to hoist myself upwards. Every level of the colossal tree no less than five birds flees their homes from this unwary invader.

“Hurry up you wussy!” The hollered yells egg me onwards and upwards. “Just pick one all ready!”

Deep within the confines of overlapping corbeau branches sits a nest; the sunlight peers in ever so slightly to look upon the secret bird which tweets away chirpily to itself. I creep closer, hanging on for dear life.

“Hey there little guy.” I introduce my head, blocking out the rays of light. The tweeter stands shocked, facing away from me, his left eye glued to my motion. I hesitate for a sec before I unwittingly take which is not mine. My hands clamp around the body of the chirper whilst it squiggles his or her jerking head.

“Hey he’s got one, hurry bring it on down here!” Heckles make my mind made up.

I clamber down the maze of shedding bark and cobwebs with one hand, as I reach the last few meters there is a three meter drop blocking my freedom from this cell of bird droppings and screeches from beyond the grave.

“Just Jump it, don’t be a wimp now Mazie, you’re so close.” I can see in Peckers eyes that was an order. I take in a few breaths before I take a leap into gravity but just as I take flight downwards a blur of atrous feathers clouds my judgement and senses, I plunge down, wafting my arms in a frenzy of defence against my attacker from the sky.

“Mazie, are you okay? Damn bird tried to peck out your eyes.” Ste picks me up to my feet as I shake off the bad landing. “Look…” Peeps sputters crouching in the grass, his unblinking eyes fixed into his cupped hands.

“What is it, Peeps?” The boss ponders. We all gather around him and from up here we all see a lifeless crow chick, my mind musters and flutters into one thousand pieces.

“What have I done?” I confess my soul. “It was an accident Mazie, don’t worry about it, death happens” Pecker assures me with his arm slumped over my shoulders. “Let’s split guys.”

Peeps places the chick back on the fingers of grass gently and shuffles away. I stay staring at the bird; I have done a bad deed. The flaps of wings still circle, an immense fuliginous crow lands on an empty branch, the weight of the bird almost snaps the trees arm. The bird doesn’t break eye contact with me I can see her flammeous eyes burn through me. She begins to screech within her caw, it almost bloodies the ear. The clouds curdle and the suns candle is blown away, a storm is coming. I back away slowly, still in shock. The Front-yard Boys have walked on ahead. I cannot escape this ringing of the bird’s cries. I run.

I ravish the sheets; my mind has too much guilt to rest my soul for the night. I squeeze my eyes tight, hoping the discomfort would keep my eyes closed until daylight. I am too warm under my covers and too cold outside of them. All I can daydream about is the chick dying by my foolish actions.

A thud at my window makes me shoot to an upright position, my eyes widened to the possibility of fear. Clicks and taps at my window make me question to investigate or hide under my covers.

I sluggishly tiptoe from my bed to the window; the curtains hide my glass knocker. Shall I gradually open them or swiftly shift both sides. I stick with the second.  I promptly push the curtains aside. Sitting upon my windowsill sit the crow from earlier, my heart sinks to the depths of despair and my thoughts lead only to revenge upon me. I attempt to frighten off my terror, roaring and throwing plastic soldiers and socks at my window to make the bird take off. I look in her eyes and with her black eyes she glances into my blackened soul.

I give up.

The bird jumps to the centre of the window and turns around, she begins to caw out into the twinkle night sky. I look over the bird into the distance and see the night blur darker. I squint in scrutiny, what is that? The rumble of noise soon becomes apparent; hundreds of crows are coming for me. I stand in stagger; you cannot run from whatever the sky provides.

The claps of tinkered talons chip on my rooftop, creeks from the shabby ceiling and wood walls elongate through my ears as fingers of noise. All of the crows must be working together to unwrap the head of my house. The top corner comes away from my bedroom. I am opened to the elements of raining crows. The mother bird enters my bedroom from the gaping hole, perched on my chest-of-drawers next to my comics and figurines.

“I know why you’re here.” I caw at the crow, she talks back.

An army of wings and black beaks swoop down and clasp on to my pyjamas. They lift me up into the air, through the bird made break. They carry me in through the clouds over the rooftops of my friend’s homes.  I can see the Gershwin Tree in the foreground.

I took her chick from their home and killed it, they kidnapped me to suffer the same fate. This is my own entire fault.

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My Evil Pen Told Me to Write This – 3


bleeding

My Evil Pen Told Me to Write This – 3

I am a mere scab upon this world as the whole planet wants to pick on me. Beware world, this is my turn! When I straddle this pen, I can kill you with my mind. I would scribble this world as an ignited cherry-bomb to have revenge upon you and you alone. Why individually miss a target when I can wipe clean the table in one sitting? I have eaten a dictionary. Each page thrashes out and rustles with a shiver with the knowledge of what my pen is about to carve upon its skin. Get them, boy!

if i fall asleep

I am wearing my madness as a medal; this world will not allow me to forget what I am, so neither should I. Bring forth your scrolls of paper and your flickering quills, condemn me, crush me and quarter my limbs; for I will write myself a new destiny, one where you are all alone in the darkness where I have lived, let us see how the monsters shall treat you in time.

michael phelps

I am running on the fumes of past fears, my memory sticks out from my brain as a protruding cocktail sticks. Lobotomize these thoughts forever Alex! There is madness in my method of writing, yes, but my method in which I use helps tame the madness into a constructive horror show for you all. I am a master sculptor with a pen, chipping away at my mental illness so you can see revulsion from my perspective. Behold a masterpiece from my membrane pieces. Doctor, open me up and fish these voices from me; Priest, open my soul and take this ghost that is haunting the hallways of this body!

ernest hemingway

Fear is only a choice – A brain tidal wave! I choose to grant it, as it is the only thing to ever stay consent within my life and thinking. These words are actually flesh-eating ants, that when you inhale with your eyes, they feast upon your brains. Yummy!

If you think reading is boring

I am cold towards this world, hence the shoulder barge; I am marvellously a marvel with a heroic heart which has stopped beating; I am burning words along with my cape to keep mildly warm from your frozen breathes.

rained upon

I am running naked in the rain for revenge, pointed fingers and tuts ensue. I have made a deal with the devil; if I use him to write and give him a purpose, he would return the favour. My words are jumbled and my blog is a jungle book; can you hear me roar in pain on my pages? My apple has fallen light-years from my family tree; my DNA is not even human, let alone the same as my mothers.

Risk

I’m living in your walls; I know all of your dirty little secrets. What you do when no one is looking and what you think to yourselves when no one is around. You’re all damaged, just like me. I was brewed in the chaos of humans malfunctions, now I have doctors telling me I’m the one that needs fixing?

edgar allen poe

“You have me confused with all of them, wait! Please don’t lock me up, I was happy before they came into my life and broke all of my windows.”

Now I am smashing each of their windows in revenge, well, I do need a breakthrough. Haha! I’m not aiming for the stars, the sky is far enough, this where I will explode into smithereens and my ashes will twinkle downwards upon the clouds and wreak havoc with acid rain. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Nope; it’s only blindness for looking for me. Haha!

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