#horrorpoetry
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Ballad of Aces & Eights
Forged with a lunger's blood and hate,
Made for killing failed friends.
Many lives it did desecrate,
For me it now condemns.
Cold, hungry, this eight-chambered heart.
Just need one to ace ya.
So ante up, cowboy, let's start,
Play the hand fate dealt ya.
The Black Queen watches from the stairs.
She won't weep as you bleed.
Suicide King won't hear yer prayers,
But he'll follow yer lead.
Now Laughing Boy, here is yer end
Borne on banshees wailing.
Spitting white-hot lead that will rend,
‘Cause Death be unfailing.
Carried to the Devil's Bedpost,
Nobody will mourn ya,
Nor care about yer damn fool ghost.
Last I'm gonna warn ya.
Bang! That's a kidney.
Bang! That's a liver.
Bang! Ya ain't even hit me.
To Hell I do deliver.
Still got five nails left, ya bastards,
Chair's free if you’re in.
Let your lives end in disasters,
Time to reap all yer sin.
Bang! That’s yer brother.
Bang! That’s yer best friend.
Bang! Hah! Down goes another.
May this fine bloodshed never end.
The acrid gun smoke slowly clears.
Two bullets to yer six.
Son, do you want to see yer years,
or float in River Styx?
Bang!
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Witches, demons, and grief stalk a blasted wasteland. Pessimism and hope glimmer in odd constellations. Featuring poems that previously appeared in Nightmare Magazine, Vastarien Literary Journal, and Augur Magazine, Elegies of Rotting Stars is a harrowing journey through the horrors of apocalypse, climate change, and colonialism. A collection of horror poetry for a world on fire.
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Shadows' Embrace
In the darkness, where the moon hides its face, and shadows dance, secrets embrace. Amidst nocturnal whispers and eerie replies, a tale of terror unfolds, beneath chilling skies.
In the forbidden forest, where trees murmur low, twisted branches whisper to the moon's soft glow. Among rustling leaves and elusive forms, mysteries awaken, creatures in storms.
In the forgotten mansion, where the wind does wail, doors creak, and darkness impales. An echo of laughter lost in time, resonates through hallways, a lament sublime.
Beneath the shroud of fear, the night holds tight, whispering tales, a threatening delight. Ghosts waltz in the moon's gentle light, weaving nightmares, an ancient foresight.
Stairs groan in the ghostly hour's spell, secrets are revealed, specters dwell. In the mirror, shadows dance and prance, an echo of the past, of souls in trance.
#DarkVerse#HorrorPoetry#GothicTales#EerieWriting#MysteriousVerse#NightmareRhymes#SupernaturalPoem#SpineChillingVerse#MoonlitHorror#GrimTales#ShadowyNarrative#MacabreMelody#SpectralRhyme#EnigmaticPoetry#ChillingWhispers#PhantasmalLines#GhostlyWords#TwistedVerses#CrypticNarrative#HauntedImagination
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The Legend of Satan’s Thirst by Shari X Insanity
The Legend of Satan's Thirst by Shari X Insanity
Author’s Note: Hello, all. I’m Shari X Insanity, and this is my Poetry Page. This is my first ever post here in this type of forum. I used to post in Facebook’s Notes Section, but that is now a defunct feature, so this brings me here, and you have all stumbled upon my poetry journal blog. I’m going to be posting here often, so please be on look out for more poems. These are all original poems, written from myself, please refrain from stealing, or copying, without my permission or consent.
I will be posting here often for Poetober, Poetober is like an Inktober, but instead for artists, this is for poets, and there’s also no prompts, just a theme -- horror genre, Edgar Allan Poe style technique, Halloween, Spooky Season. Happy Poetober to all!
Subscribe, like, comment, reshare onto other social media platforms, or follow, this tumblr account/blog/page, to check out more Shari X Insanity poetry in the future.
The first Poetober poem/Tumblr blog post is The Legend of Satan’s Thirst, you can either read along in the caption which I’ve copy & pasted my poem lyrics/verses, stanzas, or you can read the PDF/JPEG files which are attached.
I’ll be posting every Friday/Saturday.
Enjoy!
All poems are original poems written by the author, and all copyrights are reserved to the poet, artist, author, Shari X Insanity©.
The Legend of Satan’s Thirst
By: Shari X Insanity
There was once a drink,
That pours in red.
The color of blood,
And death.
No human, or mortal,
Could survive the sip.
One shlook, one gulp,
And you will drop.
So much to take in
‘By toxic, poisonous,
Mouthful.
Off goes your head.
So much smoke.
That you need to hold yourself.
Before you choke.
Because Satan is a demonic devil,
With a dark sense of humor,
Despite being a malevolent ruler, or King of Hell,
Constantly throwing the biggest, grand parties, and ordeals.
The King of Hell is greatly entertained by his guests' pain.
Alas, Satan, the King of Hell, may dwell on the nine fiery pits’ delves.
And he sends his best regards, as he cordially invites one and all.
To a noisy, rowdy, raucous, wild, chaotic, unruly, frenzied, relve.
Scallywags, scoundrels, and tricksters are in attendance alike,
Who have responded to the mass invites in bulk.
Who have arrived for the evil, devious, diabolical, wicked time.
For mischief, mayhem, havoc, and shenanigans.
Of all of the nine realms.
Before the time, or hour befalls,
For the Grim Reaper, the ferryman, shall collect all of the souls.
The souls that will fall on the river of Styx,
When you hear the bell that has been rung.
Satan truly hopes that this astonishing ball.
Will bring everyone altogether high, down, up, below, from near, or far.
That the attendees will reach an unlimited capacity, and near full.
That the bash will be not close to being dull.
Only non-stop, crazy fun.
Even if you cannot leave when you are done.
Even if you cannot say your bid well, or farewell.
Satan is feeling most prevalent and celebrant
To get everyone to dance in their cells, until they cannot anymore.
To dance, dance, dance—and dance,
Until their limbs fall off, and they can no longer go on any further
To dance as if enchanted, spelled, or hexed,
From some unbreakable trance.
Satan smokes and drinks, but you cannot smell his burnt of ashes odor,
Only his chocolaty tint dipped with something sweet
The unfamiliar sweetened, sugary and spice, the scent is along with
Satan’s aftershave, perfume, or cologne.
Maybe his scent or aura.
He is an exhumer and consumer of sorts.
A Jack of all trades and cohorts.
Cards falling or hidden, while tucked into his sleeves
He is very tight, very close with his imps, as thick as thieves.
Always talking super-fast when telling grand tales,
Getting his tongue caught into a knot, that he will have to unravel
His tongue, like a dagger and its sheath, wrapped in cloth.
Always with a grin, smile, or smirk
Laughing at his subjects, minions, and impish jokes
Impish cackles, and laughs maniacally evilly.
Not being able to contain himself,
As his stomach rumbles.
The drink is dripping down from his chin,
Down to his whiskers.
He is drinking the goblet of nightmare
With a bloody éclair.
The drink spilling and spitting
Everywhere into the air.
Spilling, spitting, dripping in drink
As the foam and suds covers and drenches
His goatee and mustache
His laugh is infectious and contagious
Which spreads and reaches to every last one of his subjects.
Because he is sitting upon his throne, hand raised, about to make a toast.
He drinks the bubbling, fizzing, tonic
Which can be scotch, vodka, or cognac,
That will make any living mortal’s blood vessels, to burst,
Mortals with a working pulse.
Because maybe Satan’s a maniac.
This drink is only for the dead or undead
Not for the faintest of hearts.
This is Satan’s preferred drink.
Preferably shaken and stirred.
With a decapitated finger,
Of a lost soul that has since been tortured
With mixing, stirring with just the tip.
Using the keepsake, leftover finger as a teaspoon.
That Satan kept fondly in the pocket of his suit.
Alas, that poor buffoon.
Whomever that person t’was.
With a laugh, a smile, another chug
From his drink, and a shrug.
Drip, drip, goes the drink,
The contents have dripped.
Down Satan’s chin.
Sliced, diced, minced, spiced, on the rocks,
The ice cubes stained in blood, on the icicles,
Within the cup.
Satan chugs the malice.
That’s within the cup.
This cup is a goblet, a chalice
Extravagant, and luxurious.
Lavish to a deathly fashion.
Upon his throne
He sits high, tall, and almighty
Wearing a three-horned crown
Fire, flames gathering,
Surround his entombed throne.
Screaming, piercing, cries of the tortured
Of the sinned and punished
Surrounds the chilled, dead silenced, air.
Begging out for mercy, if there’s any left,
Satan, the Hell’s king, is examining his clawed nails, apparently daft.
He ignores the cries, shrieks, and screams.
He smiles from ear to ear.
Enjoying the sounds and what he hears.
Only fuelling his hellfire to grow.
Fuelling his hellfire to glow.
His hellfire is bubbling in a nearby cauldron
The essence of the Outworld, the Otherworld, Underworld.
And everything that falls within the balance in-between the worlds.
Satan wants to rule, to lead,
To dominate.
To conquer.
To be the only one true king.
He wants to spread his dominance
Into heaven
To be a king there
Or unleash to earth
And spread his fire, whichever which way
On whatever perth
Fire leading behind a path.
Satan has an unsatisfied appetite or desire
That’s left unquenched, and unextinguished
Hunger or thirst
Until snuffed or smothered
That’s more than what is in the cup.
The unknown concoction of contents,
The mysterious alchemy of ingredients,
By one gulp, about to blow,
Once swallowed in the esophagus,
And the world as we know it
Would be toast, or cease to exist.
A burnt inferno left in crumbs.
Satan with his red face
Drawn out eyebrows, cocked, arched, and raised.
His face was in a grim grimace.
A goatee at the chiseled chin, like a Roman myth statue
And an Italian pizzeria chef, with a catfish-looking mustache.
Horned by three at the top of his head.
His stare is deadly, eyes the color of crimson red.
He wears the finest of tailored suits.
Pinstriped down the middle
Trousers to match, and complete the ensemble
A top hat sits at the top of his head
Hiding his three horns inside
And tucked in, is his long forked tail
That slips down his side.
And sat in his hands is a timepiece
That always knows “the time”.
His bash is near the end and he takes out his pocket watch
To look upon the pocket watch’s front glass, the front face
To read the hour hands and minute hands, and know what time it is
Because in hell, time is simply fleeting, fleeing fast.
The pocket watch is attached to a long chain
And is placed in his trousers’ pocket’s back belt loop, expectantly and indignantly.
As he is tapping on one of his leather buckled shoes, impatiently.
He stares at the pocket watch for merely a second,
And places the pocket watch away with a sway immediately.
With his drink set aside, he toys with a two-sided, double-sided coin.
Satan always toys and plays with a coin.
A double-sided coin that’s neither heads nor tails
A coin that’s a bit of a shiny bronze,
A rusted fool’s gold that has since lost some luster and shine
However, that’s not what catches Satan’s red eyes
It’s the coin’s design
So obscure and arcane
The coin slips back into Satan’s trouser pockets
Along with the pocket watch attached to the long silver chain
He chews on a flame’s match from a matchbox, instead.
As he lifts his goblet, to hold and juggle, masterfully both,
Balancing with both hands, the items, as balanced as the Fates’ scales.
With both hands.
He chews on the match
And sometimes a cigar
That never blows out.
An endless, neverending smoke.
That never seems to ever end.
And he doesn’t need a matchbox
To lit the flame
The flame on the end of the cigar is always lit.
By a snap of a finger
Sometimes getting zapped that he sucks on it.
Or a wave by the hand.
Chewing on the end of the match
Doesn’t seem to stop the quench
That tug in his stomach or gut
The squelch, twinge, or pinch,
The smoke doesn’t even cough up his throat
Or even his lungs.
His thirst is for something more
That cannot ever be explained
The thirst for power
A power that needs to be obtained,
But once obtained, the Seers and Fates have spoken and prophesied:
Nothing in this world will ever be the same,
And nothing could ever seize or stay.
The hell, earth, and above
The storm, the fire, the black,
Even heaven will seize to exist
Plummet into an apocalypse
And explode.
All because of one drink
That had Satan’s sip.
Everything that we have known
Everything that we’ve held dear
Would be left in remains.
Satan will walk into this graveyard,
Of what the universe left behind it,
The harbinger of that apocalypse
Of omens, of how things end,
And all’s well, that ends well.
Satan will bend down to a sitting crouch,
Both hands on his knees, in that squat,
Swept his fingers across the dust,
And be marveled of Satan’s thirst.
Of what he created and made.
Of Satan’s wrath.
As this story, this tale, this legend, draws to an abrupt close.
As fiery fireballs ablaze the path.
And be heard of in the distance are wings of bats,
Flying together as a family, in a colony, in a cauldron,
As they do fly into the night,
Across the dark sky’s clouds,
About to take flight.
– Fin –
#poets of tumblr#poetry#poetscommunity#poets corner#poets on tumblr#Poetober#Horror#Halloween#SpookySeason#EdgarAllanPoe#GothicRomance#HorrorPoetry#ShariXInsanity#Poem#OriginalPoem#Satan
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#badpoet #Badpoetry #poet #poetry #badwriting #badwriters #emo #emopoetry #horror #horrorpoetry #noir #noirpoetry #sanjose #sanjosecalifornia #goth #gothic #eastside #🖤 (at Eastside, San Jose) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cg8jNGWuDqi/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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We're celebrating @spillinggrace birthday month with a special discount!! "Lady of The House shares the fictional tale of Lady, a 1940s riveter turned housewife trapped by a loveless marriage and societal framework that makes it difficult for her to abandon her current circumstances. She feels purposeless, hopeless, and she is angry. Resentful. And she festers... This dark and haunted poetry collection is sure to please readers of the macabre." Grab it on Kindle today!! . . . #horror #horrorpoetry #womeninhorror #horrorbooks #hauntedpoetry #indiepoet #indieauthor #indiepublisher #indiebooks #authorssupportingauthors #supportindieauthors #books #bookish #published #publisher #publishinghouse #smallpress #gothicpress #kindle #kindlesale #ebookpromotion #ebook #ebooksale https://www.instagram.com/p/CguYV5Yrz8U/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#horror#horrorpoetry#womeninhorror#horrorbooks#hauntedpoetry#indiepoet#indieauthor#indiepublisher#indiebooks#authorssupportingauthors#supportindieauthors#books#bookish#published#publisher#publishinghouse#smallpress#gothicpress#kindle#kindlesale#ebookpromotion#ebook#ebooksale
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Halloween is almost upon us!
If you haven’t tried any of my writing yet, now is a great time to give me a go, so to speak! All links are here: https://www.spoldhamauthor.com/
I am running a competition on my blog which ends Midnight October 31st GMT. You can enter here: https://www.spoldhamauthor.com/.../random-giveaway-7...
There are plenty of free reads here, to give you a taste of my writing style: https://www.spoldhamauthor.com/.../project-three-b3rh6
Plenty of SSiZLes - aka Silly Sunday Zombie (or not) Limericks here: https://www.spoldhamauthor.com/.../asso.../project-two-fca29 If you would like me to attempt a limerick written about you or a friend or family member, just let me know and I will do my best, just for fun!
Also some horror poetry here, to get you in the eerie mood for Halloween. https://www.spoldhamauthor.com/.../assortedwork/horrorpoetry
It doesn’t have to cost you a penny to try my writing out for size. If you like anything you read, please let me know or even better, spread the word.
Thanks everyone. Keep safe and Happy Halloween!
N.B: All the above pages can be found under https://www.spoldhamauthor.com/spoldhamauthor/assortedwork Just click the link and enjoy!
#halloween#limericks#horror poetry#short horror stories#free reads#want a limerick written about you#short stories#witches#dark fiction#indie author#horror#kindle#dark fantasy#witchcraft#horror fiction#dragons
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#BadPoetry #poem #poet #poets #poetry #Bukowski #Edgarallenpoe #bayarea #wordology #emopoetry #horrorpoetry #writersofinstagram #badwriting #badwriters
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Thank you @NetGalley and @swann.bedlam for the chance to read and review "Where the Worm Never Dies" by Quinn Hernandez!
#BookReview #BookTwt #ARC #Horror #poetry #HorrorPoetry
Thank you NetGalley and Swann + Bedlam for the chance to read and review “Where the Worm Never Dies” by Quinn Hernandez!
On The Title
A quick search for the phrase “where the worm never dies” shows you that it’s a biblical phrase; something that I did not pick up with the title (I’m muslim, so this isn’t an area I know too much about). This is an interesting phrase because even a small look…
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Reposted from @horrorcollections13 Happy birthday to Edgar Allan Poe! 1809 #horrorcollector #horrorcollection #horror #halloween #horrorcommunity #horrorfan #horrorobsessed #halloweenseason #scary #horrorroom #horrorbust #edgarallanpoe #nevermore #horrorcollectibles #horrorfigures #statuecollectors #horrorart #horrormovies #creepy #raven #spooky #scary #lovecrafts #michaelmyers #horrorpoetry #horrorjunkie #classichorror https://www.instagram.com/p/CnnXO42o1Hm/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#horrorcollector#horrorcollection#horror#halloween#horrorcommunity#horrorfan#horrorobsessed#halloweenseason#scary#horrorroom#horrorbust#edgarallanpoe#nevermore#horrorcollectibles#horrorfigures#statuecollectors#horrorart#horrormovies#creepy#raven#spooky#lovecrafts#michaelmyers#horrorpoetry#horrorjunkie#classichorror
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me against the hurt
me against your knife
me against the wall
while you puncture
holes inside my life
me against the hurt
me against your knife
me against the bed
while you turn my
sheets red
me against the hurt
me against your knife
me against the memories
that are left for me to
find
me against the hurt
me against your knife
me against the floor
while you search in me
some more for a place
that isn’t yours
- persephone fiore
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Strixly Speaking
Yellowed hay bails squat in the field,
These moldering megaliths.
Where Stolas' kingdom is concealed,
Brewing fiendish mephitis.
He holds court on cottonwood limbs
Framing his well-gleaned demesne
Horned devils sing questioning hymns;
Same word again and again
The Prince perches atop the barn
His talons etching grayed wood.
Head revolving, he reads a yarn
Told by pale stars, nothing good.
Hateful is the cosmos
Negligent is its God
Vile is its harmony
Hell's feathered courtiers fall hush
Silence crawls across the farms
Rabbits hide in the sagebrush
Grandmothers grip warding charms
A victim's name the Prince proclaims
His ill coterie takes wing
Vermin burrow deep in spoiled grains
All fear the ruin the fiends bring
Across sleeping farms, they spread to
Track housing and trailer parks
Above bars and brothels, they flew
Old neon signs giving off sparks
Rotten is the city
Wicked are its people
Ripened is their despair
Ancient Romans called them striges
Carriers of potent poison
Spread by their far-echoing screeches
Used to frighten their foison
A stray clerk strolling after dark
Swallowed by cacophony
Rent by talon in old Oat’s park
Their soul devoured monstrously
No pellets will ever be found
No trace of what the imps slew
Ask when the prey will be around
Their family will answer... "Who?"
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Part 2 of the compiled pieces from the first set of Poem a Day. Includes Sin City Survivor, The Pride of Pestilence, Genesis, & The Cabal of Eternal Rest #onepoemaday #poemaday #verseaday #angelsofhell #apocalypse #fourhorsemen #demon #hell #hellonearth #epicpoem #poetry #poetryisnotdead #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #promotepoetry #Iwritepoetry #horrorwriter #horrorpoetry #promotehorror #writer #writing #writersofinstagram #writersofinstagrampoetry #reviewmypoem #spokenword #spokenverse #poetryreading #poetizer_official #poetizerpoet #poetizer https://www.instagram.com/p/CMODTfYBTyE/?igshid=3kl8f1e1zca8
#onepoemaday#poemaday#verseaday#angelsofhell#apocalypse#fourhorsemen#demon#hell#hellonearth#epicpoem#poetry#poetryisnotdead#poetrycommunity#poetsofinstagram#promotepoetry#iwritepoetry#horrorwriter#horrorpoetry#promotehorror#writer#writing#writersofinstagram#writersofinstagrampoetry#reviewmypoem#spokenword#spokenverse#poetryreading#poetizer_official#poetizerpoet#poetizer
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The Dark
When something goes “bump” in the night,
And the children in bed all shiver,
When something gives someone a fright,
And their strength begins to wither,
There’s something out there, in the dark,
That twists it’s bony hands,
And is waiting to tear your confidence apart,
Into tiny shredded strands.
You can’t be too careful, in the dark,
Where the wicked things do tend to play,
Because when you mess with their domain,
There’s not much more anyone can say.
You trespass upon their sacred place,
Where shadows coat the ground,
Where there is no hope for salvation,
And the wicked things creep all around.
They come in all shapes and sizes,
And every ugly shade of grey,
They come with teeth that rips and slices,
They do not come, however, to play.
In the dark they wait for you,
To make the mistake with your venture,
But once you do, they fall upon you,
And you are now an unfortunate creature.
People say do not fear the dark,
And it’s true the dark is only a cover,
But you should fear what is in the dark,
For it will surely pull you under.
-by Shawna aka poeticnerdmom 🖤
#horrorpoetry#writersoftumblr#writing#inspiration#horrorgenre#genre#shortstory#inthedark#scarystories#wickedthings#originalpiece#original#myworks#writersblock#inspired#creepy#scary#spooky#rhyming#poetsoftumblr#socialmediaguru#blogger#blackandwhite
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Rabbits by Sarah Gregory. Short horror story. #poetrysociety #poetsofinstagram #poem #poetrywriter #poetrycommunity #poet #poets #poetrylovers #poemsofinstagram #poetry #originalpoetry #horrorpoetry https://www.instagram.com/p/CAIaT7WF5nm/?igshid=nyb3hrzt5274
#poetrysociety#poetsofinstagram#poem#poetrywriter#poetrycommunity#poet#poets#poetrylovers#poemsofinstagram#poetry#originalpoetry#horrorpoetry
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#badpoet #Badpoetry #poet #poetry #badwriting #badwriters #emo #emopoetry #horror #horrorpoetry #noir #noirpoetry #sanjose #sanjosecalifornia #bayareapoet #bayarea #eastside #🖤 (at Eastside, San Jose) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cg56rgEOOSr/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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