Poetry competition CLOSED 26th November 2016 10:05am
WINNER
afriendoftina (Hendy)
afriendoftina (Hendy)
Tales Of The Dark And Twisted Creatures
Poetry Contest Description
So this competition has to do with wonder land as in alice in wonder land but the creatures you find there. Like the white rabbit for example or maybe the cheshire cat. Make it as dark and twisted as you can.
RULES!
1. Some heat is okay but just nothing extremely pornographic.
3. please include the character or place your writing about or if you don't wish to say the name than include a picture.
4.Has to be dark and/or twisted
5. anything else pm me or leave a comment
6. can be a short story or poem up to you
1. Some heat is okay but just nothing extremely pornographic.
3. please include the character or place your writing about or if you don't wish to say the name than include a picture.
4.Has to be dark and/or twisted
5. anything else pm me or leave a comment
6. can be a short story or poem up to you
REPTILIAN OWL BEAST
I am speaking of a mythical swamp being from the dark waters and seas
it looks like a giant owl and a reptilian draconic beast
if you are targeted by this archfiend an owl will warn you from the trees
with dark stares that pierce into your soul from the lands of the dead
the wars of man are over overseen by draconic entities imbued of untold dread
they dwell in the nether regions and capture souls with there fallen angelic legions
the sidhe fae elven faeries of the spirit realms from the depths of the forests
known about the draconic under cities that will eat human tourists
so we worship birds of the heavenly spheres like the Egyptian disciples of horus
and the carian bird deities being divine angelic beings
of the higher angelic galactic confederacies
and Caria in ancient Anatolia being a outpost for there angelic seedlings
So I invoke Hecate and the great spirit of the KouKouVagia
and question the alliance of those entities of the alliance of Anchara
as in the capital of Turkey Ankara
the arts of the anaotlians and Phoenicians reveal bird and snake deities
the references of various angelic beings and entities I can point to countless mythologies
I am speaking of a mythical swamp being from the dark waters and seas
it looks like a giant owl and a reptilian draconic beast
if you are targeted by this archfiend an owl will warn you from the trees
with dark stares that pierce into your soul from the lands of the dead
the wars of man are over overseen by draconic entities imbued of untold dread
they dwell in the nether regions and capture souls with there fallen angelic legions
the sidhe fae elven faeries of the spirit realms from the depths of the forests
known about the draconic under cities that will eat human tourists
so we worship birds of the heavenly spheres like the Egyptian disciples of horus
and the carian bird deities being divine angelic beings
of the higher angelic galactic confederacies
and Caria in ancient Anatolia being a outpost for there angelic seedlings
So I invoke Hecate and the great spirit of the KouKouVagia
and question the alliance of those entities of the alliance of Anchara
as in the capital of Turkey Ankara
the arts of the anaotlians and Phoenicians reveal bird and snake deities
the references of various angelic beings and entities I can point to countless mythologies
The Excommunicated
The catatonic cadavers woke and insidiously moved
In hedonic rituals that enticed those festering eyes
And amid the pandemonium the dilapidated guests
Convulsed out of their sarcophaguses to agonize
Bile drew up their esophagus short of regurgitation
In a chronic mastication to electronic hexing tunes
And they frolicked and gyrated their sensual bodies
Like seductive maggots coming out of their cocoons
The decomposed sounds of Bacchanalian symphonic chants
With their tantalizing Sapphic and histrionic gestures
Could make any man dead or alive succumb to desire
Regardless of putrid scents weaving through the textures
How can one say no to such a parasitic persuasion?
When they influence you in sardonic hypnotic tones
Climaxing your brain with a tonic arcane
For your quivering flesh to crawl along the bones
It was a sultry scene of erotic nightmares and dreams
Articulated amid bloody coughs from pneumonic lungs
But their clamors sang praise for the excommunicated
Sensually mnemonic when they all spoke in tongues
The catatonic cadavers woke and insidiously moved
In hedonic rituals that enticed those festering eyes
And amid the pandemonium the dilapidated guests
Convulsed out of their sarcophaguses to agonize
Bile drew up their esophagus short of regurgitation
In a chronic mastication to electronic hexing tunes
And they frolicked and gyrated their sensual bodies
Like seductive maggots coming out of their cocoons
The decomposed sounds of Bacchanalian symphonic chants
With their tantalizing Sapphic and histrionic gestures
Could make any man dead or alive succumb to desire
Regardless of putrid scents weaving through the textures
How can one say no to such a parasitic persuasion?
When they influence you in sardonic hypnotic tones
Climaxing your brain with a tonic arcane
For your quivering flesh to crawl along the bones
It was a sultry scene of erotic nightmares and dreams
Articulated amid bloody coughs from pneumonic lungs
But their clamors sang praise for the excommunicated
Sensually mnemonic when they all spoke in tongues
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f248/jadepandora/climbing%2000.png
GROOMED
(a short story)
The old church, with peeling & loose clapboards, cracked stained glass, leaning spire with bowed winged figure atop, as if in mourning, was a sorrowing place, with pall of tears, warped in the constant screech & clicks of cicada, surrounded by swamp and marshland, hidden in overgrown willow and twisted gnarled oak.
She was a girl of no description, given the lexicon of her short life up until then, that merely droned on in a maze of black arts that had consumed the sanctity and sanctuary of what once was the pierced heart of Christ; cohabitants meant to exist in the atmosphere of Venus, the body and light of Lucifer, before the casting out.
Inside the groaning structure, once a time long ago, hallowed by sharecropper families in the county, for celebrations of their faith, their weddings, baptisms, and their farewells of both beloved and scoundrels, a slight and singular girl was a ward of the exalted archangel, once second only to God's own son. The chosen had chosen.
Within narrow cupboard beneath a stairway was her only place, her haven, while each night, when the dead would make their way up towards a distant light she couldn't see (no one let her).
The outcast host of heaven's angels who had been relegated to groveling under the feet of Vulgate, were pathetic and envious and mocked the girl who was clad in ritual garb that never covered her modesty. They'd make her pack their bags and wash their feet before the dead could ascend, wrapped in torn strips of white raiment.
But where did they go? They never came back. What good would it do to cling to hope?
As hopeless as she felt were her chances to be free; the plight she thought had befallen the sallow, sunken and bowed walking dead, with always more passing through, had no hope left for them.
She'd tuck her slight body into her slight room in despair and try to dream, where out of the mists, Hope would always appear to take her hand and ease her heart and soul. Hope came to her as a gentle-faced man, as Lucifer once was. He was erect and imposing, with beautiful wings that furled and reflected when he approached.
The shadows of her prison would taunt her when Hope came, and pulled her long hair to drag her out of the cupboard, howling their foul breath, filling the room, telling her that she would meet her doom. Doom, she thought, was what she had already been sentenced to.
On this night, as the girl cleansed the dead and wrapped their bodies for their journey that she yearned to know, it came to her to try and disguise herself as one of them; to blend in and join the many going up the staircase.
She feared the ritual that the guardians pressed her into anytime the satanic mood set in like a fog of faint red aglow seeping through the rafters, the doors and floors, making every timber and plank creak and shiver, with a deep moan of death's angelic choir to accompany the orgy of her grooming for Lucifer's sadistic pleasure.
Anything the guardians did to her was a picnic compared to what laid in store once she was given over to his Queen Lilith, who would be the one to present the girl to her Lord.
She saw the chance to set her plan into motion while there was a moment's break, and quickly pulled off her ritual garb, stood shivering in a shallow pan and poured a pitcher of cold water on her nakedness, then sat in the pan with a rag and washes clean her feet. Once she finished the ablutions, she stood, stepped out and rubbed herself dry, her heart pounding in her throat, her breath rasping from her mouth. Her time was short as the dead that she had prepared were in a listless line about to leave. Her body quaked as she wrapped wads of torn strips of white cloth around herself making certain her face was covered with slits left open to see through.
The line of dead had begun to make their way up the stairs that sagged and groaned, and the girl held onto the rickety railing to steady herself, so nervous and frightened was she. She kept between two of the walking dead, so pitiful and wan, in an attempt to keep the guardians from spying her in her escape.
She noticed the darkness was descending, and peered through the bandages, looking up the stairs between the shuffling bodies. It was eventide, with half a waxing moon at its peak in the night cycle, and the air's subtle chill was bracing and crisp, and smelled so fresh, reminding her how putrid it was down below.
It was all she could do not to suddenly bolt free with only a few more steps to go. The ones ahead were out on the roof, and each began to rise up until they were all spread out in lines of pale moonlight ascending both high and low in all directions.
The girl was mesmerized while standing at the base of the old bent spire, watching the rest emerge from the top of the staircase, out onto the roof, and float away. It was beautiful. They were free.
The girl quickly put her hands to her bandaged face; she couldn't follow, she wasn't dead, she'd be found out! What to do, where to go?, her thoughts jumped out her ears as she spun round and round in place. She looked at the ground below. It was too far to jump. She frantically turned and looked up above at the mournful bowing angel with wings outspread. She kept her eyes wide on the angel, with a brave look, as she tried to climb the spire.
"There's my Hope!" she cried out, "My only Hope!", digging her fingers in, her bare feet scrambling.
She was at the spire's bend and couldn't go further. All she could do was look up at the statue's placid face and pray.
"Dear Lord, I'm your unworthy lamb gone astray. Please save me and I'll serve you all the rest of my life..."
But before she could finish and say "Amen", the angel's eyes lit up bright red, tilted its head with a sickening crunch, grinning a shark-toothed maw at her and growled.
"Oh I'll save you, all right, the best for the last! You'll serve me well till I say DIE!"
And the choir could be heard in eerie harmonies:
The orchids of her sallow flesh
so soft and pliable,
from fallow rot of bitch's crčche,
death is a harlot's friend…
death is a harlot's friend.
GROOMED
(a short story)
The old church, with peeling & loose clapboards, cracked stained glass, leaning spire with bowed winged figure atop, as if in mourning, was a sorrowing place, with pall of tears, warped in the constant screech & clicks of cicada, surrounded by swamp and marshland, hidden in overgrown willow and twisted gnarled oak.
She was a girl of no description, given the lexicon of her short life up until then, that merely droned on in a maze of black arts that had consumed the sanctity and sanctuary of what once was the pierced heart of Christ; cohabitants meant to exist in the atmosphere of Venus, the body and light of Lucifer, before the casting out.
Inside the groaning structure, once a time long ago, hallowed by sharecropper families in the county, for celebrations of their faith, their weddings, baptisms, and their farewells of both beloved and scoundrels, a slight and singular girl was a ward of the exalted archangel, once second only to God's own son. The chosen had chosen.
Within narrow cupboard beneath a stairway was her only place, her haven, while each night, when the dead would make their way up towards a distant light she couldn't see (no one let her).
The outcast host of heaven's angels who had been relegated to groveling under the feet of Vulgate, were pathetic and envious and mocked the girl who was clad in ritual garb that never covered her modesty. They'd make her pack their bags and wash their feet before the dead could ascend, wrapped in torn strips of white raiment.
But where did they go? They never came back. What good would it do to cling to hope?
As hopeless as she felt were her chances to be free; the plight she thought had befallen the sallow, sunken and bowed walking dead, with always more passing through, had no hope left for them.
She'd tuck her slight body into her slight room in despair and try to dream, where out of the mists, Hope would always appear to take her hand and ease her heart and soul. Hope came to her as a gentle-faced man, as Lucifer once was. He was erect and imposing, with beautiful wings that furled and reflected when he approached.
The shadows of her prison would taunt her when Hope came, and pulled her long hair to drag her out of the cupboard, howling their foul breath, filling the room, telling her that she would meet her doom. Doom, she thought, was what she had already been sentenced to.
On this night, as the girl cleansed the dead and wrapped their bodies for their journey that she yearned to know, it came to her to try and disguise herself as one of them; to blend in and join the many going up the staircase.
She feared the ritual that the guardians pressed her into anytime the satanic mood set in like a fog of faint red aglow seeping through the rafters, the doors and floors, making every timber and plank creak and shiver, with a deep moan of death's angelic choir to accompany the orgy of her grooming for Lucifer's sadistic pleasure.
Anything the guardians did to her was a picnic compared to what laid in store once she was given over to his Queen Lilith, who would be the one to present the girl to her Lord.
She saw the chance to set her plan into motion while there was a moment's break, and quickly pulled off her ritual garb, stood shivering in a shallow pan and poured a pitcher of cold water on her nakedness, then sat in the pan with a rag and washes clean her feet. Once she finished the ablutions, she stood, stepped out and rubbed herself dry, her heart pounding in her throat, her breath rasping from her mouth. Her time was short as the dead that she had prepared were in a listless line about to leave. Her body quaked as she wrapped wads of torn strips of white cloth around herself making certain her face was covered with slits left open to see through.
The line of dead had begun to make their way up the stairs that sagged and groaned, and the girl held onto the rickety railing to steady herself, so nervous and frightened was she. She kept between two of the walking dead, so pitiful and wan, in an attempt to keep the guardians from spying her in her escape.
She noticed the darkness was descending, and peered through the bandages, looking up the stairs between the shuffling bodies. It was eventide, with half a waxing moon at its peak in the night cycle, and the air's subtle chill was bracing and crisp, and smelled so fresh, reminding her how putrid it was down below.
It was all she could do not to suddenly bolt free with only a few more steps to go. The ones ahead were out on the roof, and each began to rise up until they were all spread out in lines of pale moonlight ascending both high and low in all directions.
The girl was mesmerized while standing at the base of the old bent spire, watching the rest emerge from the top of the staircase, out onto the roof, and float away. It was beautiful. They were free.
The girl quickly put her hands to her bandaged face; she couldn't follow, she wasn't dead, she'd be found out! What to do, where to go?, her thoughts jumped out her ears as she spun round and round in place. She looked at the ground below. It was too far to jump. She frantically turned and looked up above at the mournful bowing angel with wings outspread. She kept her eyes wide on the angel, with a brave look, as she tried to climb the spire.
"There's my Hope!" she cried out, "My only Hope!", digging her fingers in, her bare feet scrambling.
She was at the spire's bend and couldn't go further. All she could do was look up at the statue's placid face and pray.
"Dear Lord, I'm your unworthy lamb gone astray. Please save me and I'll serve you all the rest of my life..."
But before she could finish and say "Amen", the angel's eyes lit up bright red, tilted its head with a sickening crunch, grinning a shark-toothed maw at her and growled.
"Oh I'll save you, all right, the best for the last! You'll serve me well till I say DIE!"
And the choir could be heard in eerie harmonies:
The orchids of her sallow flesh
so soft and pliable,
from fallow rot of bitch's crčche,
death is a harlot's friend…
death is a harlot's friend.
SEE NO EVIL
http://66.media.tumblr.com/864fc591362ad46e5d6140437fceff2d/tumblr_n56qfj1k2X1tnr75io1_500.gif
Children mustn’t be scared and so are told lies,
The tales all end happy, and the hero survives.
Sugar-coating is a curse, the true tales are soon told,
Of bitter ruin and darkness, with bodies lain cold.
Snow White gets her kiss, Sleeping Beauty wakes up,
Alice comes back to our world as if just by luck.
But the final spin covers up a much darker reveal,
For Alice stays trapped at the end of her ordeal.
In Wonderland she remains, a bitter nightmare,
The horrors she sees would give you a scare
She sees them for just a short while, a blessing perhaps,
A mistake to think so, since her eyes have been snatched.
She wanders there blind, growing voracious and dark,
Her humanity’s gone, no compassion to spark.
http://65.media.tumblr.com/a4846d061108a82135be175c9f65c4ed/tumblr_mesecoclNq1rmmm2so1_500.gif
She seeks her revenge, she wants back her sight,
Your eyes work quite well, stealing them is her plight.
You’re awake now and safe – she can’t get you here,
While daylight’s still happening there’s nothing to fear.
But darkness creeps in and you yawn now time’s passed,
Your bed is now calling you to fall asleep fast.
While you are sleeping, your mind wanders around,
Through mystical worlds and new trodden ground.
One of these places has some familiar creatures,
One is a cat, who’s wide grin is one it’s features.
A mad hatter, dopey twins and a white rabbit too,
In Wonderland you’re dreaming and Alice waits for you.
For your eyes she has envy, she hunts them with glee,
Once they are stolen, you’ll no longer see.
Disorientated, you’re lost, no clear path in sight,
That’s just when she pounces to give you a fright.
Her bony hands grasp round your shaking, scared face,
She snatches your eyes, and in her sockets she will place.
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rsQCN6T__7o/Ux1EaGXEUvI/AAAAAAAA5Nk/sHRnvWa0caA/s1600/black+gifs+(6).gif
You’re robbed of your sight, you wake with a scream,
But you’re not in your bed, you’re still in your dream.
You’re the one trapped, the one stuck in that land,
To wander round blindly till you hatch a shrewd plan.
You’ll follow her footsteps, you'll follow her plan
Prey on innocent dreamers, steal their eyes if you can.
You’ll wander in Wonderland till a victim you find,
To steal back what was stolen by Alice that time.
AFRIENDOFTINA
P.s. I do realise this is rather a silly tale.
http://66.media.tumblr.com/864fc591362ad46e5d6140437fceff2d/tumblr_n56qfj1k2X1tnr75io1_500.gif
Children mustn’t be scared and so are told lies,
The tales all end happy, and the hero survives.
Sugar-coating is a curse, the true tales are soon told,
Of bitter ruin and darkness, with bodies lain cold.
Snow White gets her kiss, Sleeping Beauty wakes up,
Alice comes back to our world as if just by luck.
But the final spin covers up a much darker reveal,
For Alice stays trapped at the end of her ordeal.
In Wonderland she remains, a bitter nightmare,
The horrors she sees would give you a scare
She sees them for just a short while, a blessing perhaps,
A mistake to think so, since her eyes have been snatched.
She wanders there blind, growing voracious and dark,
Her humanity’s gone, no compassion to spark.
http://65.media.tumblr.com/a4846d061108a82135be175c9f65c4ed/tumblr_mesecoclNq1rmmm2so1_500.gif
She seeks her revenge, she wants back her sight,
Your eyes work quite well, stealing them is her plight.
You’re awake now and safe – she can’t get you here,
While daylight’s still happening there’s nothing to fear.
But darkness creeps in and you yawn now time’s passed,
Your bed is now calling you to fall asleep fast.
While you are sleeping, your mind wanders around,
Through mystical worlds and new trodden ground.
One of these places has some familiar creatures,
One is a cat, who’s wide grin is one it’s features.
A mad hatter, dopey twins and a white rabbit too,
In Wonderland you’re dreaming and Alice waits for you.
For your eyes she has envy, she hunts them with glee,
Once they are stolen, you’ll no longer see.
Disorientated, you’re lost, no clear path in sight,
That’s just when she pounces to give you a fright.
Her bony hands grasp round your shaking, scared face,
She snatches your eyes, and in her sockets she will place.
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rsQCN6T__7o/Ux1EaGXEUvI/AAAAAAAA5Nk/sHRnvWa0caA/s1600/black+gifs+(6).gif
You’re robbed of your sight, you wake with a scream,
But you’re not in your bed, you’re still in your dream.
You’re the one trapped, the one stuck in that land,
To wander round blindly till you hatch a shrewd plan.
You’ll follow her footsteps, you'll follow her plan
Prey on innocent dreamers, steal their eyes if you can.
You’ll wander in Wonderland till a victim you find,
To steal back what was stolen by Alice that time.
AFRIENDOFTINA
P.s. I do realise this is rather a silly tale.
A BOTTLE MARKED POISON
Air comes from lungs
To sing in tongues
To tongue come
To plunge unsung
Her first words were gin rummy
Not mummy
And her birth as unexpected as a mugging
Or a first kiss or a fish drowned
Or a glass that looked back
She met a monstrous man at eleven
Who carved angels in graveyards
A laudanum lover
A cleric of the saviour
The scars of a jailer
Patrician failure
Revealed that weakness in kindness
Formed when the violence is mindless
Like the laughter in manslaughter
Of someone's daughter
She screamed for some
Time.
One.
Thing.
Where
She could dream again
Of falling and landing on the back
Of a jubjub bird
Only to leap again
Air comes from lungs
To sing in tongues
To tongue come
To plunge unsung
Her first words were gin rummy
Not mummy
And her birth as unexpected as a mugging
Or a first kiss or a fish drowned
Or a glass that looked back
She met a monstrous man at eleven
Who carved angels in graveyards
A laudanum lover
A cleric of the saviour
The scars of a jailer
Patrician failure
Revealed that weakness in kindness
Formed when the violence is mindless
Like the laughter in manslaughter
Of someone's daughter
She screamed for some
Time.
One.
Thing.
Where
She could dream again
Of falling and landing on the back
Of a jubjub bird
Only to leap again
Chasing chasing
fallowing the fluffy white rabbit
his pocket watch dangling
his vest flapping
down the rabbit hole i go
after that silly white rabbit
the bottom is dark
the bottom is small
drink to shrink
and on i go to find the white rabbit
running through a strange new land
and through out i have no plan
My lungs feel like im about to burst
my blood is pumping through my veins
I gotta catch that white rabbit
Cats disapear and the moon apears
or is that teeth that wish to rip into me?
I run and run
that fluffy tail so close yet so far
Cards that walk and flamingos talk
white roses painted with blood
a hatter that is slightly off his rocker accompanies me as i look for the white rabbit
i look frantic as my neck comes close to being off
cake to grow
and on i go
after that silly white rabbit
fallowing the fluffy white rabbit
his pocket watch dangling
his vest flapping
down the rabbit hole i go
after that silly white rabbit
the bottom is dark
the bottom is small
drink to shrink
and on i go to find the white rabbit
running through a strange new land
and through out i have no plan
My lungs feel like im about to burst
my blood is pumping through my veins
I gotta catch that white rabbit
Cats disapear and the moon apears
or is that teeth that wish to rip into me?
I run and run
that fluffy tail so close yet so far
Cards that walk and flamingos talk
white roses painted with blood
a hatter that is slightly off his rocker accompanies me as i look for the white rabbit
i look frantic as my neck comes close to being off
cake to grow
and on i go
after that silly white rabbit
I thought I'd better go ahead and announce the following, from an exchange of notes I had with the host of this competition: elise0622, who had asked me to go ahead and let people know who had, like me, submitted writes up to September 28th. You see, after I posted an entry way back on September 28th, came in an entry the next day, the 29th, having to do with Alice in Wonderland. I wondered if it had been put in the wrong competition. I went to the start of the thread where the host had posted what to write about, and lo' & behold, the time stamp showed that, sure enough, the premise was completely changed to: "So this competition has to do with wonder land as in alice in wonder land but the creatures you find there. Like the white rabbit for example or maybe the cheshire cat. Make it as dark and twisted as you can." Up until then, there had been no mention of Alice and the rabbit and Cheshire cat. If you look at the earlier entries you'll find that none of us were writing about that fantasy. So I noted elise0622 advising that a host can't change everything, right in the middle of a competition. The reply was to let everyone know who had entered before the change didn't need to change their work. So I don't know, I guess that means the rest of you with recent and current submissions about Alice and that lot just keep it as is. I'll be submitting this to a Moderator as well in case they want to get in touch with the host about any of this. Most confusing. Sorry to be the messenger... don't shoot me.
Thank you, Jade, for posting and yes, once the comp rules and topic are firmly established, they should stay that way until the end of the comp, in fairness to those who have already entered a submission .
That said, I am requesting that the host give equal and fair consideration to all entries when choosing a winner, since now the first few submissions are "off topic" now that the rules got changed 1/2 way through.
If this comp ends up going to vote, I'll hide the opening post so that those voting, don't have a preconceived idea in their heads as to what to look for in the entries, and can just choose the one they like the most.
In short --moving forward, don't do that; leave the rules alone once it's initially ironed out & posted.
That said, I am requesting that the host give equal and fair consideration to all entries when choosing a winner, since now the first few submissions are "off topic" now that the rules got changed 1/2 way through.
If this comp ends up going to vote, I'll hide the opening post so that those voting, don't have a preconceived idea in their heads as to what to look for in the entries, and can just choose the one they like the most.
In short --moving forward, don't do that; leave the rules alone once it's initially ironed out & posted.
