Category: Macabre

NaPoWriMo Day 19

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Poetry, Macabre, My Chaotic Mind, NaPoWriMo, Old Gods and Magic Folk, Poetry, The Old WaysLeave a comment

Another literary world of which I am a fan is that created primarily by H.P. Lovecraft and a number of his contemporaries. Commonly known as the Cthulu Mythos, it began in 1919 and continues to be added to in literature and film to this day. Here is my offering to the Great Old Ones. Enjoy

My Last Free Will

Great ancient ones from far beyond,

This world that we know,

They call to me and will not stop,

As slowly mad I go.

They seek the key. Am I a key?

Is that a thing they said?

Or are the voices only here,

Inside my rotting head?

No wait! The speak again to me,

From this I cannot run,

From this asylum I’ll be freed,

For them I’ll wreak such fun.

I have been locked up here for months,

For things I have not done,

Then when you see my real work,

Know I was not the one.

I can’t! I won’t! I know this is,

Not who I’d truly be,

They’ve twisted, broken, swallowed whole,

The soul inside of me.

Sedate me please and bring more guards,

To stand outside my cell,

If they succeed and I run free,

This place will turn to hell.

It is on chaos that they thrive,

Their food our misery,

They would use me to cut a door,

From their dark void set free.

They show me visions of their dreams,

Of all that I might do,

In my nightmares, I glory there,

Skin flayed and blades pierced through.

They think me lost, bereft of will,

Abandoned to my fate,

That I am just a key they’ve shaped,

To break that eldritch gate.

But I’m still here, I write this note,

How do you know it’s me?

If you’re alive and reading this.

I’m dead they are not free.

Cheers,

Spirit of Torment

On By WinstonIn Drawing, Ink Drawing, Inktober, Macabre, My Art, Sketches, Sketching, Think Ink, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Last week at work I did the following sketch.

I sent it to my wife who said “Tell me that isn’t on a piece of scrap paper because I love it and want to hang it!” Of course it is on a piece of scrap paper. So this week, I set about re-doing it more suitable for hanging.

Many, MANY hours later, here is the result.

As always, I would love to know what people think.

Cheers,

NaPoWriMo 2022 Day 23

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Ghost Stories, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Something a little different today.

The Lonely One

Oh won’t you please come in and sit,

Not many folks stop by.

The place gives them a weird feeling,

So most won’t even try.

But you’re not most, you’re braver far,

At least got through the door.

If you could just come closer now,

I’ll show you so much more.

This really is a lovely house,

Was built before my time.

And though I cannot go outside,

Sunrises are sublime.

What’s that you say, you feel a chill,

The heat’s been off a while.

Just down those stairs and through the arch,

You can’t mistake that style.

See, all those rumours are untrue,

There’s naught down there but dust.

No monsters, myst’ries, ghosts or such,

Just detritus and rust.

Why don’t we check the upstairs out,

You’ve heard about the light?

They say it’s carried back and forth,

By someone through the night.

Yet as you see, there’s no one here,

Except for you and I.

But once a story like that starts,

Can’t stop it though you try.

And there’s the attic door. It’s locked.

More dust is all that’s there.

The key is on that ring you hold,

There may be mice, beware.

You say you’ll look some other time,

Perhaps that’s for the best.

We’ll go downstairs and sit a spell,

In case you need a rest.

Oh don’t mind me, I’m just the help,

Included in the price.

I’ve been here years, but that’s okay,

A constant roof is nice.

How do you like the house pray tell,

I think you’d like it here.

Now that you’ve seen there’s nothing strange,

Please pour the tea my dear.

Thank you so much for doing that,

You’re kind to lend a hand.

It seems us ghosts can’t lift too much,

I’m sure you understand.

I promise not to stomp about,

Or rattle some old chain.

Won’t scream or moan or fuss all night,

Go on about my pain.

I sure would love some company,

To help me pass the time.

With all the stories ‘bout this place,

Could have it for a rhyme.

Cheers, Winston

NaPoWriMo 2022 Day 13

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Poetry, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, Old Gods and Magic Folk, PoetryLeave a comment

So today was a “No Idea What I’m Doing” day. I just started writing and let it take over and become whatever it was going to be. Turns out, it’s a little bit Lovecraft with a hint of “Cabin in the Woods”. As always, I’d love to know what people think.

The Keeper of the Eight-Fold Gate

There’s more around than meets the eye,

More things than can be seen.

If you could see between the lines,

Learn what has always been.

Be warned now, that way madness lies,

For such has been the fate.

Of all who sought for wisdom there,

Beyond the Eight-Fold Gate.

Some claim eight is the number of,

The Gods who live beyond.

For others, it’s how many deaths,

It takes to form the bond.

I only know that madness waits,

For any who would dare.

None have returned, with minds intact,

Who have once ventured there.

I do not know, just what they hope,

To gain at such a cost.

For what is gained is surely gone,

Their shattered souls are lost.

It’s not my place to look beyond,

The Eight-Fold Gate and see.

My job is just to lead you to,

The place you need to be.

Then I collect the ruined thing,

That stands where you once stood.

And take it to a place of rest,

In ancient, sacred wood.

I know, I know, you are the one,

The one who will succeed.

And find that which so many sought,

That for which you still bleed.

Your eyes and flesh were just your part,

Of what you had to pay.

But what you did to others now,

Would make a demon pray.

Now stand upon the stone and speak,

Just as you have rehearsed.

Look through the Eight-Fold Gate and see,

If you are blessed or cursed.

I hear you scream but do not look,

Until the light has gone.

A body slumps upon the stone,

So glad I’m but a pawn.

And as I lead away the husk,

Dark laughter fills my mind.

“I thank you for the meal, such ones,

Are getting hard to find.”

It’s not my place to look beyond,

The Eight-Fold Gate and see.

So long as there are those who would,

What lives there eats for free.

As long as it is fed it need,

Not breach that ancient door.

For if it does, then all is lost,

We will exist no more.

I am not evil, take no joy,

In sacrifice I bring.

Seek just to keep this world safe,

From ancient monstrous thing.

So if you know someone who would,

For ancient wisdom seek.

The sort who’d kill and torture just,

To get themselves a peek.

Send them along, and I will guide,

Them to the Eight-Fold Gate.

That they may claim their just reward,

And so delay our fate.

Cheers, Winston

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 6

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Fantasy, Ghost Stories, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Now for something completely different!

Sometimes, I just start writing with no real idea of where it’s going or what the narrative is going to be. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes, like this time for example, it takes itself in some truly unforseen directions.

The Ghost Writer

I swore that I would never write,

Again about some ghost.

But there she is and here am I,

Set to compose this post.

You see the spirits know me well,

For some tales I have told.

Find here a sympathetic voice,

For secrets which they hold.

Now those who can will seek me out,

Who cannot send me word.

Some medium or psychic calls,

For one who would be heard.

A young girl sits before me now,

A soft and misty shade.

She gazes at the floor and tugs,

Her faint, translucent braid.

“How can I help?” I ask at length,

Expecting no reply.

“You cannot help for I am dead.”

Her words soft as a sigh.

“Indeed you are, I must agree,

But still you sought me out.”

“To travel here’s no easy thing,

And cost you dear no doubt.”

From out the corner of her eye,

I see her glance at me.

“What would you know of what it cost?

I’ve paid no ticket fee.”

“Your trainfare’s not the price I mean,

a fact you know quite well.”

“For once you leave your place on earth,

You’re one short step from Hell.”

She looks up now and meets my eye,

A sharp and piercing look.

“You are the one. You did not learn,

That fact from any book.”

“There is a book on yonder shelf,

Just left of where you sit.”

“It’s boring true, but truth contains,

If you but dig a bit.”

She glances at the book and smiles,

Then back to me again.

“I see your name upon the spine,

It comes form your own pen.”

“I did not say I did not write,

The truth within that book.”

“But only that you’d find it there,

If you but chose to look.”

Quite suddenly her face is there,

Mere inches from my own.

The malice flows from her in waves,

It chills me to the bone.

“How came you by this knowledge rare?”

“Think well before you speak.”

“For I am not some simple haunt,”

“Some tired thing and weak.”

I meet her gaze, pick up my glass,

Of whiskey take a sip.

I know her then some guardian,

Whom I once gave the slip.

“You’ve got it wrong oh little spawn.”

“You’ve got no claim on me.”

“Your boss is just upset he lost,”

“A little bet you see.”

Black tendrils stream from tattered frock,

Skin black and peeling flakes.

Her hair a mass of roiling smoke,

With eyes like fiery lakes.

The tendrils now coil round my limbs,

Clawed hands on throat so tight.

“Once body’s dead your soul is mine,”

“You’re coming back tonight.”

I feel them come, the ragged souls,

The spirits I have saved.

By coming now to face it’s wrath,

What perils they have braved.

Not one of them is anywhere,

So strong as what they face.

But they are many it is one,

This hoard my secret ace.

The hands upon my throat grow weak,

A gesture stills the throng.

“You thought to take me back with you.”

“See now you were so wrong.”

“A message now I give to you,”

“To take in place of me.”

“Keep what is yours, leave me to mine,”

“Or war there’ll surely be.”

Dark angel gone, my host withdraw,

Once more alone am I.

I sip my whiskey in the dusk,

And write this verse and sigh.

The spirits that I help are those,

With nowhere else to be.

I once was there, where they are now,

Then someone rescued me.

Now those unworthy and unloved,

I do my best to aid.

With kindness, patience and some love,

Help them feel less afraid.

Not gods nor devils cared for them,

Until I freed them all.

Now both sides claim them for their own,

Demand I heed their call.

My spirits are the common folk,

And common lives they’ve had.

Though good folk not so saintly and,

Though sinners not so bad.

Not good enough for heaven nor,

The type to go to hell.

The gods and devils left them here,

Forgot them for a spell.

And then one day a magus died,

Who’d planned it out ahead.

To answer questions but he had,

No plans for staying dead.

He dodged the devils and the gods,

But couldn’t quite get home.

And spent three hundred years stuck in,

A cave outside of Rome.

Then one fine day, someone came by,

Sweet as the morning dew.

They did the work and raised me up,

To start my life anew.

So now I save my stranded flock,

Free them as I was freed.

Free them from devils and from gods,

From their unending need.

And now and then an angel or,

A devil will stop by.

To take me off to my “reward”,

At least that’s what they try.

But those I’ve helped still have my back,

And I have theirs the same.

We are the only home we want,

And Legion is our name.

Cheers, Winston

NaPoWriMo Day 20

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Poetry, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

So…. ummmm… this is a little more different than usual. Also, a lot longer (which is why I didn’t finish it yesterday). If Lovecraft had written in rhyming couplets, he probably still would’ve had too much self-respect to write this. Regardless… enjoy!

On The Hidden God

“Come in and see! Come in and see!”

He cries out with a grin.

“Behold the ancient magic ones,

They wait for you within!”

 

The paint is peeling from the door,

The glass cracked in it’s frame.

A sign above so faded that,

I can’t make out the name.

 

I turn to walk away and then,

He catches at my arm.

“No charge for you today good sir,

Pray what could be the harm?”

 

“I only ask when you have seen,

The mysteries waiting there,

That you will tell where you have been,

And all your visions share.”

 

I think that I will walk away,

But then I think, “Why not?”

I did not know, but even then,

I was already caught.

 

I let the hawker guide me back,

I stand before the door.

It swings in on a squealing hinge,

Now all is dark before.

 

I step into the gloom and feel,

A moistness underfoot.

There is a smell of dank decay,

And long forgotten soot.

 

The darkness fades, a lesser dark,

And now I dimly see.

I look around and realize,

There’s no door behind me.

 

I’m standing in a larger space,

Than what there should have been.

Where massive shapes loom all around,

More sensed than truly seen.

 

Perhaps the dark is caused by smoke,

An opiate I think.

Or someone slipped a mickey in,

The tea I bought to drink.

 

I start to walk, to seek a wall,

A door back to the street.

And realize there is a sound,

A deep, abyssal beat.

 

It is so low, more felt than heard,

It fills my soul with dread.

My every thought to scream and run,

The pounding fills my head.

 

As suddenly, the beating stops,

Now silence takes it’s place.

A moment’s warmth upon my cheek,

A breath upon my face!

 

Yes, now I scream and now I run,

From what I do not know.

Just run until I cannot breathe,

No further can I go.

 

The beating comes again but now,

It sounds more like a heart.

Some monster of antiquity,

Raised up by darkest art.

 

The panic comes in blinding waves,

My mind plays tricks on me.

I think I see some movement there,

And strain my eyes to see.

 

I stumble forward gasping still,

Must know what horror dwells.

In such a place impossible,

The terror in me swells.

 

A piping wail, a droning chant,

Now join the steady throb.

They baffle and confuse my mind,

Of me, my wits, they rob.

 

I’m closer now can see for sure,

A chanting, piping crowd.

While far ahead the being whose,

Heart throbbed ungodly loud.

 

Impossible! My mind screamed out,

Such things just can’t exist.

Yet every time my eyes are closed,

Those images persist.

 

One hundred meters high or more,

And more than twice as wide.

A sickly iridescent gleam,

Upon its blotchy hide.

 

A thousand grotesque tentacles,

Obscenely writhe and coil.

They crush the closest of the crowd,

Their corpses left to spoil.

 

Uncounted eyes, their lidless gaze,

The windows to it’s soul.

But do not look! There’s nothing there.

A howling, sucking hole.

 

I notice now I’m chanting too,

I’ve joined its soulless choir.

This endless paean to my God,

To sing my one desire.

 

I’m closer now, one tentacle,

Grasps me and lifts me high.

I gibber in my terror as,

I gaze into its eye.

 

I stand once more before the door,

It’s flaked and peeling paint.

Looks faintly iridescent now,

As from some demon’s taint.

 

“You like the show?”, the hawker asks,

With empty holes for eyes.

“Remember you must tell your tale,

He’ll know if you tell lies.”

 

So now I know the truth of it,

I’m bait that’s why I live.

Instead of taking just my life,

Take all that I can give.

 

I am a prophet of my God,

Lead others to that place.

By writing this, those fools read,

Begin to seek that space.

 

If you still want to meet a God,

You’ll find a certain door.

It may not be the one I found,

There are so many more.

 

But just be sure and just beware,

Before you make that choice.

That if you live, you’ll be it’s slave,

Like me, its human voice.

 

Cheers, Winston

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NaPoWriMo Day 14

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Ghost Stories, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, UncategorizedLeave a comment

I love a good ghost story. This isn’t that, but it is today’s theme.

 

On The Ghost’s Lament

I walk about my home and watch,

the years roll slowly by.

I know there was a reason once,

Now can’t remember why.

 

The people come and then they go,

but I still linger here.

I know not if I stayed for joy,

or if I stayed from fear.

 

I only know I cannot leave,

Forever in this place.

While roaming through these rooms alone,

Eternity I face.

 

Though people come, they see me not.

They think I am not real.

A bump they hear, a whispered word,

a sudden chill they feel.

 

I try and try but cannot touch,

Can’t reach beyond the veil.

So I remain forever lost,

Against this fate I rail.

 

I will go on and on and on,

To nevermore be free.

Whatever brought me too this pass,

There is no peace for me.

 

So if by chance you should come here,

Know that I walk here still.

No matter what I try I fear,

Forever more I will.

 

Cheers, Winston

NaPoWriMo Day 6

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

I know it’s 03:30 on the 7th, but I haven’t been to bed yet so I’m going to count this one for the 6th.

 

On The High Price Of Doing Business

My wife beside me fast asleep,

And no one else at home.

Then who is walking in my hall,

So late at night to roam?

 

My dog perhaps. He sometimes likes,

To walk about at night.

But he’s not prone to wearing boots,

His tread is much more light.

 

I’m certain if I were to check,

Some simple thing I’d see.

Of course there’s no such thing as ghosts.

How foolish can I be?

 

Because it cannot be a ghost,

Why should I go and look?

What’s there to see? Some common thing!

Unless I’m much mistook.

 

The thumping stops, I start to doze,

It starts up once again.

The broken sleep and twanging nerves,

It’s really quite a pain.

 

I lift the sheet and slowly swing,

My feet down to the floor.

With sweat like ice upon my skin,

I stand before my door.

 

There’s nothing there! There’s nothing there!

I chant within my head.

But clammy hand and clammy brow,

Betray my real dread.

 

I shake my head and draw a breath,

And push my fear aside.

The knob I grasp and quickly turn,

The door I open wide.

 

******************************************

 

A dampened cloth upon my brow,

Wife’s hand upon my cheek.

I try to rise but cannot stand,

I’ve never felt so weak.

 

She found me there, upon the floor,

Limned in the hall’s dim light.

With every hair upon my head,

Now changed from brown to white.

 

I finally get back to my bed,

Must try to get some rest.

The Count will call again tonight,

I’ll need to look my best.

 

There’s deeds to sign, so much to do,

For him to settle here.

He’s charmed my wife, she’s said as much,

So pleased to have him near.

 

Cheers, Winston

 

 

 

 

 

 

NaPoWriMo Day 3

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Poetry, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, UncategorizedLeave a comment

It’s a little rambling and definitely a little dark, but I chalk it all up to being exposed to Lovecraft, Howard, Derleth and their ilk at an impressionable age.  Whatever may be the explanation…. Enjoy!

 

On Hubris

I’d not believe had I not seen,

The thing with my own eyes.

Collapsed, my knees gone weak with fear,

Un-manned by it’s sheer size.

 

In truth no living thing should stand,

Titanic as this stood.

I rose and fled much deeper still,

Into that cursed wood.

 

As I ran on, I oft’ looked back,

At what bestrode the land.

That nightmare beast set free at last,

Released by my own hand.

 

I had been warned, would not believe,

Trust just what I could see.

The ritual, I did perform,

To call this God to me.

 

Oh now I see, now I believe,

Too late! Too late by far!

The God has come by my command,

From some dark, distant star.

 

It’s found me now, it lifts me up,

And so much higher still.

It’s inside now, inside my head,

Laughs at my my feeble will.

 

I beg for death. I pray for death,

But God has plans for me.

It grants me now my secret wish,

Grants immortality.

 

That was the thing, the prize I sought,

The prize for which I’d kill.

Yet now it’s mine, this nightmare prize,

It’s my blood I would spill.

 

The laughter of my hungry God,

Grinds at my very soul.

To know the evil that you’ve done,

Exacts a dreadful toll.

 

A billion screams, two billion more,

Damnation’s choral sound.

And through the flame, and smoke and death,

See corpses all around.

 

Now this is what, what I have wrought,

Wrought with my mortal greed.

I sought to make a God a slave,

Must pay now for my deed.

 

My lot to witness for my God,

Through all eternity.

Denied the balm, the gift of death,

Condemned, condemned to see.

 

I cast these words out to the stars,

Know not whose eye they’ll find.

Believe, believe, I beg believe!

Don’t let pride make you blind!

 

Cheers, Winston

 

 

NaPoWriMo Day 28

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Discrimation, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Uncategorized, Values1 Comment

Because of the last two night shifts and having to work tomorrow at 0600, I haven’t slept since about 1430 yesterday. This has some strange effects upon my little brain. For starters, I had absolutely no idea what to write about today, only the determination to not miss a post this close to the end of the month. So I just started putting words on the page and trusted it to write itself. Enjoy!

WELCOME TO YOUNGWICH PLOT

“You are a witch and so must burn!”

The magistrate declared.

So terrified, the young girl sobbed,

And in her heart despaired.

“All these good folk have seen you dance,

With devils in the night.”

“And when you spoke to Widow Blythe,

She fell down dead of fright.”

“You’ve cursed a babe and blighted crops,

Done Satan’s own dark deeds.”

“You’ve done all this and so much more,

To suit your evil needs.”

“When you have died, your grave shall be,

Unhallowed, unmarked plot.”

“With iron chains and salted earth,

To bind you to the spot!”

“Now speak the truth, or not at all,

Repent now, do not lie!”

“Confess to us your evil ways,

Confess before you die!”

Her fate confirmed, she stands up straight,

“The truth is what you seek?”

“Then harken to my words and learn,

About your future bleak.”

“The spells I weave, no devils need,

All nature is my loom.”

“It’s true that with some herbs I mix,

I fly upon a broom.”

“I’ve done my best to help this town,

Through famine, drought and plague.”

“And many a good Christian has,
Sought my help with the ague.”

“But then one day an old man tried,

To have his way with me.”

“So I did as my Mother taught,

Displaced him with my knee.”

“Then Sunday next, that man stood up,

And lied of me to you.”

“He is a man and I am not,

So his words must be true.”

“He swore he’d seen me dancing with,

Three devils in the night.”

“But did not say why he was there,

So late to see that sight.”

“What was it that he hoped to see,

When peeping in that pane?”

“Was he possessed of some dark urge,

From which he’d not refrain?”

“But you don’t want to hear this truth,

I see this plain as day.”

“There’s just one thing before I stop,

It’s this that I will say.”

“By powers of the earth and air,

And of the waters deep.”

“From now until your lives are spent,

You’ll know no restful sleep.”

“Each time you close your eyes to rest,

Wherever, you may be.”

“My tortured face all wreathed in flame,

Is all that you shall see.”

“Your stock shall flee across the land,

To seek their wild way.”

“Your lands shall bear no crops for you,

“Now heed these words I say.”

“Now none of this must needs to pass,

Surcease my freedom buys.”

“But if I burn, this curse shall last,

‘Til each one present dies!”

They burned the witch so legend says,

Her every word came true.

Those who slew her soon rued the day,

Too late there’s naught to do.

So now you know the reason for,

The name our town has got.

I welcome one and welcome all,

Welcome to Youngwich Plot.

Cheers Winston