CREEPIES AND CRAWLIES

no takers?

For The Love Of Gore

Stench of rotting flesh
soaks the soil under
foot,
Earth is their prison
walking in search of
food,
Eating the still beating
hearts of screaming
humans,
Maggots oozing from
the corners of their
mouths,
Brutally gnawing on
arm muscles stringy,
hanging,
Bile pours out from
festering foul
wounds,
Dismembered corpses
clenching tightly on
intestines,
Devouring the insides
of impending
death

Slitting The Throat Of Religion

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
I smile, wickedly,
As I feel his manhood,
Hardened to perfection,
Pressing into my backside.
He leans against me in the wooden booth
The altar in sight through the peephole door.
"Tell me...." he whispers, lips grazing my ear,
"My child,
how long has it been
since your last confession?"

He rides me hard
From behind,
The priest robe brushing against my calves.
I let him go--
As much and as long as he can last
Before he moans deep
And spends his load within me.
Finished,
He whispers "Thank you..."
"No, thank YOU..." I say, turning
To raise my arm
And plunge the knife into his throat.
I smile wickedly again;
His body collapses,
Eyes wide,
Bleeding.

I slip from the booth
As tomorrow's headline is written:
"Confession Booth Killer Strikes Again"
I smooth down my skirt,
Peel off the wig
And deposit it in my purse.
I take care to wipe the handle
Of the confession booth door
To free it from the incriminating fingerprints
Of the Mayor of this glorious city
As I prepare to head back to work—
Lunch break is over.

[b]Creepazoids[/b]

They are here again
the creepazoids
smiling wide
with empty eyes
staring at you
from everywhere

Yellow faces
distended in pain
flickering candles
in their brains
hungry looks
needy mouth

In the night
they move in forms
trundling rolling
on the ground
creeping crawling
in ungainly gait

come they in mortal dreams
Enter them in deepest fear
of sleeping people's mind
the scratching in one's chest
to reach the beating heart
Frantic in their want

For they need
what they don't have
A soul and heart
these scary yellow
empty faced
Creepazoids.

Badass stuff. Thanks for the strong turnout.

http://cdn.wegotthiscovered.com/wp-content/uploads/Contagion.Damon_.jpg

FRANKENFLU


The people started dying
Convulsing and crying
Gone in twenty-four hours
Coughing so much
The virus did disperse
So fast, so deadly
Toronto became
A no-fly zone

A woman had visited China
Caught something which
Health Canada could not identify
A virus with a glitch
They sent it to Atlanta
The Center for Disease Control
Meanwhile the populace panicked

Canada had to impose
The War Measures Act
Soldiers in bio hazard suits
Went door to door
Picking up the dead

The USA followed suit
A curfew was imposed
All were under house arrest
The Patriot Act – updated
Was enforced


This virus had no borders
Soon one-third of the world was dead
While scientists worked around the clock
To find the virus and the cure
They identified the virus
Called it the SwineBatChicken Flu
They still  had no idea
Of what to do

The people went crazy
Looted all the stores
Fought for whatever food
Was still uncontaminated
Broke into Health Food Stores
Looking for questionable cures
Broke into Pharmacies
To get the last of the antivirals

Then the FrankenFlu as it was called
Abated and went away
Those who survived
Went on or developed
Post-traumatic stress disorder
Health Canada developed the vaccine
The next time the FrankenFlu comes around
We think we will be prepared.



http://learn.genetics.utah.edu/archive/sars/images/world_spread.gif

http://www.nbcnews.com/health/new-sars-related-virus-kills-another-saudi-arabia-8C10998818 - Aug. 25, 2013

http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs262/en/ - NIPAH virus / Malaysia 1999

http://img.timeinc.net/time/magazine/archive/covers/1993/1101931108_400.jpg

DR. FRANKEN-STEIN


I just got married to Ben Stein and then got my Ph.D.
As is the fashion, I took both surnames
So let me introduce myself, Barbara Franken-Stein
No, my father is not a Senator and my husband  is not rich
So I had to get a job in a university
My husband is a journalist

They got me a laboratory
At the University of Misantropy or the U of M
To do human cloning, a large grant, in secrecy
The surprise is, I do not know who it will be

It took two years to get it right
The birth of the baby will be tonight
To a human surrogate
A poor student, desperate
For the large amount of money
She will get

She was smuggled into a hospital
With private rooms for rich ladies
Labour was induced
We were all there and waiting
All the medical staff and all the researchers
Were sworn to silence

The baby was born and he looked normal
We had built a mini house
Near the university
Staffed by three shifts of nannies
To take care of Baby B – Bobby the Clone
Every day we visited to see

The first year passed without incident
Then he started growing and growing
We measured his growth hormone
It was ten times what it should be
Soon he was three years old
But he was six feet tall
Mentally he was three
Nobody could handle him

He was fussy and demanding
He had tantrums and was hard to please
The nannies kept resigning
Their fright was easy to see
He also was sexually precocious
Raped a cleaning lady
The University was now being sued
Bad publicity

Then when we did not think
It could get any worse
We found out the baby had been named
Robert David Frankenstein
My husband had a heart attack
I miscarried our first child
To add insult to injury
They denied me tenure

We left the state and went to live
In another country
I am not doing research
I have three children of my own
Word has gone out
That Bobby Frankenstein
Escaped, thinks I am his mother
Wants to track me down

This bulletin is meant for the world
We do not know where this monster is
You are not likely to recognize him
He is a tall, blonde, white male
Who looks neat and clean
He will kill to eat
He will rape to satisfy his urges
However he does not know what he is doing
He can barely speak.


---------------------------------------------------------

BEHAVIOUR OF 3 YEAR OLD
http://www.sheknows.com/parenting/articles/813862/your-3-year-old-development-behavior-and-parenting-tips-1/page:2

DOLLY – SHEEP CLONING DISASTERS
http://whyfiles.org/148clone_clash/5.html

HUMAN CLONING IS FLAWED
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/baby/clon_jaen.html


http://c85c7a.medialib.glogster.com/media/b6/b6e190d0f1449faea2edb1e63b40c7c6dfd2f7ef219fed18593b5067a19acfdf/cloning.gif

 Breaking veil

Smoke pillows thick
across the valley fog
miles in mist
the echoes thrall
chanting's  
incantations
murmurs and candle drippings
the cloaked broke open the path
where those that Never were
and shall be again, rise
beside the cemetery lines
skeletal fingers dig through
mossed hunks of overgrowth
while above whips the vampyr bat
flying to ward howl and moon
id est quod est, Nosferatu
ink twists swirl, unfurl unending
witching hour held, kept
gone forever dawns promise
ghouls slip amid goblins
screech harvest beside growling
as night pale riders
beat hooves from the blackness
Woman man dog child
huddle close hearth and fire
leaves curl crisp in bitterness
feeding essence of stale and decrepit
bemoan thou man for shadows fall
the ticking has failed
tick
tock
marked only in pumping throb
lumps catch
in errs long dissonance
hollowed empty
savor sufferer
lost silent screams
scratch white streaks
clawed open, torn
upon the back
reach out from your gloom
as pain rips shards
slit deep the hidden moon
pulling with might
where force compounds malice
envelope and consumes
ever night's presence
locking  
with link and chain
dragging the helpless
wherein the Never, shall
freely reign

Black Widow

In threads of silk She hangs in wait,
Her hapless victims court their fate;
Around them, summer's flowers bloom,
Nature's glory, victims' doom.
They touch the web with carefree tread,
Alert, She feels the trembling thread;
The scuttling lunge, the terrible eyes,
The victim quivers, stiffens, dies.
With gossamer ropes She binds the kill,
She sucks the juices, takes her fill,
And leaves the tiny, blackened husk      
Hanging in the gathering dusk.
Sated, deadly, proud, alone,
She hangs once more within her throne.
Unmoved by feelings, loves or hates,
The patient Widow sits and waits.

Sarcophagus


Exhale dust and bandages.
Cough a coin into the palm of my hand.
Cold clear red liquid
Sponges coated enamel.

A cavity is aching.
Clay clumps fall to sacred grounds

I move.
An arm
A hand
Stiff with apprehension

Bones tell lies

A psalm of hope
By singing flesh
Hanging

A thought becomes -
I have survived

Somewhat unraveled
I was torn apart

Edges frayed made the remains useless
But inside the black star never shone tighter

Hair straight with weight and decay
I bleed only from the eyes,
Rose tinting my demise’s revival.

great job everyone, keep them coming

Creepy Crawlers


Creepy crawlers on the ceiling—
rejuvenated, roaming and rejoicing
Cozy as the cold climate comes
weaving webs, waiting for their prey
silently searching, stalking, salivating…

Scornful sinners like scorpions—
they sting like a bee and sing like a king
Sadistic and sarcastic swears
feast on fears, their feat:
the creepy crawlers on the ceiling.

Hear them come home on Halloween,
always alluring and aloof
Suspicious scoundrels go scot-free
enjoying the evening every
inch of the way, itchy bitsy spiders
feel free to feast on your prey!

Business as Usual

I wear a smile, of course.
"See you tomorrow", you say.
It is as the door closes,
as I step away from the
tedium of the day
into the long, dark pause
between meetings,
that the smile fades

It is as I turn the key
that the mask is set aside;
it is as the deadbolt turns
and the business suit discarded,
that my freed flesh cries
a paean of release;
it is as I turn from the day
and your plastic world
that my bones awaken
that my blood remembers
how to glow by torture's flame,
that my soul grows,
hot and burning,
like coals hissing in the rain.

Each step deeper into the house
anticipation grows
for another ragged song of screams,
another red sunset
of gleaming steel
towards a wet horizon,
another coal to sear
humanity from my heart.

There are no ashes: all is burnt.
There is no tomorrow: I am not there.
Life exists only now,
in carving, in tearing;
inside flesh, inside fear.
Here I live.

And when I must inevitably depart
my hellish playground
into your world,
into the long, plastic pauses between life,
I will wear a smile, of course.

Boys of October

The Hallow Eve’s full moon hung low
the glint of steel silhouetted in it’s glow

his hand held the knife
wanting a slice of her life

maybe snip off a nipple like a red rose
then perhaps all her pretty painted toes

she bolted and ran
falling right into his plan

he whooped; she hollered
she zagged; he follered

she tripped on descending steps
he caught the rail and his breath

a deserted park what a thrill
a seldom used baseball field

she hid in a dark dugout corner
he taunted saying he had something for her

a struggle ensued
she got away, who knew

dashed towards the pitcher’s mound
tripped on the rubber, sprawled on the ground

screaming and crawling across the wet grass
he was on top of her, again the knife flashed

covered her face with her bare hands
while the blade swung, again and again

so orgasmic were her sickly groans
each time the steel glanced off bone

there was no getting away
from his frenzied foreplay

but there in her eyes flashed a glimmer of hope
it caused him to stop in mid stroke

he wiped the bloodied knife on her torn dress
asked what’s up; demanded she confess

she gurgled, she giggled through the torn smile on her face
saying it wasn’t just anyone she allowed to get to third base

his look was priceless staring deep in her eyes
she allowed the slightest reflection of his own demise

her lips curled back revealing fangs of white steel
as she reached between his legs for her next meal

with razor sharp claws she clamped and sliced
he knew the pleasure of pain, and this was so nice

she rose above him, horns on her head
he knew it was too late to run or beg

her black wings majestically unfurled
her foul breath made all straight things curl

with a swipe of her claw she sliced open his gut
with a flick of a fingernail cut off his nuts

then with a raised claw and a look of pure hate
she shot a glance towards third base then home plate

snarling, “Sport, it’s the bottom of the ninth and your call
you’ve two outs, two strikes, and…..no balls……”