Tag Archives: Macabre

Devil and Minion

D: Tell ’em to shake it a few times.

M: Shake their booties, sir?

D: Yes.

M: By a few, do you mean more than two and less than four?

D: Yes.

M: What will they do afterwards?

D: Tell ’em to shake it a few more times in the same rhythm as before, ad infinitum.

M: Are they to never cease?

D: Yes.

M: Not for food, water or sleep?

D: No. They will receive everything they need.

M: You’re sure this will work?

D: Don’t question my methods. This isn’t my first rodeo.

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macabre poem

i sink into the bathtub

steam kinking up the curls at the nape of my neck

sirens play a song outside my window

screaming, glass smashing against the pavement

a symphony of recklessness


a cold concrete jungle waiting to warm in the swell of summer

i run my hair under the faucet

cool stream clashing with a pool of heat

my stomach muscles tremble as i

try to keep myself from going under



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Puppet Show

Someday we’ll all be
dancing on bones and dust
marionettes on strings
of the departed
slipping between worlds
painting faces with fresh blood

reaching aching yawning
outstretching fingers
with hollow eye sockets.
we are all a dream
of a deceased soldier
in search of


should we stop dancing
barefoot with muddy souls
and let go of the strings
say goodbye to the red faced puppeteer’

enter a thrill ride
because the end result
remains the same
ashes, dust, buried, scattered
beneath the earth
of the air
on the lips of lovers
who can sever rope
and just let go.

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Death Drains

Death Drains

When death strikes, we often feel as if the life of the deceased simply washes down the drain.

Death is just as important as life. We live every day, but die only once…yet we greet it with fear. We mourn death’s very existence with ceremony, in place of celebration.

Here is my ode to such emotion.

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by | March 12, 2013 · 6:41 pm

Number 13


I felt like my deck might need some Death. And, for the hell of it, here are all the Death cards from my tarot collection:


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Cut and Paste Poetry: A Macabre Project




1.  Lunch Hour Macabre

Death.  Hold on.  Come back.
Clutch at my young throat
This is a game we used to play
But I was so afraid
Carve away the stone
How do they
Climb the stairs
Break down the wall
Retreat to the sparkling darkness holding hands
Until I faint 
Press close enough
And it is quiet.
Kiss felt like
I was trapped in memories
Against the cold stone
I like the way it feels
But for now lungs breathe
At the end of the hall she passed a note.
Not the end.

2.  Setting Sun Macabre

When I think of how
They lowered me down
In reality
We set each other free
How real then kissing was
And now take take the reality away
We found our first escape
And then take your hands away
I wanted to know
To feel this kind of release
Fuck a boy
Until darkness rises
Like a fog off dead meadow
Let me fall
Peaceful edge
Cutting soft light of the living

3.  Macabre Cross the Line

You’ve now seen the other side, far away.
It wasn’t all that.
Insane laughter
Back of the bus
All that
Once again you are you, in love
These aching lungs
Wasting the present day
Caverns of lonely 
Aching veins
I don’t know this is the end
Deafening call
I don’t know but let the pure love kill




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Week 10: Macabre

Mysterious. Dark. Frightening. Oddities that are grotesque, yet somehow enigmatic. The word conjures so many different creatures to the forefront of the imagination. For this weeks theme, show the world what eerie, and lurid creatures haunt your mind. Show us the Macabre.

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