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The X-Rhymes Mar 9
'farewell to the lost'
hear someone assert
how 'death has a cost
that's counted in hurt'

then offerings tossed
in handfuls of dirt
and crosses when crossed
leave mud on my shirt

but I do not cry
don't bawl and don't rave
no tears to supply
don't have to be brave

that would be a lie
no face I to save
I only stopped by
to spit on your grave.
I do start off with good intentions.
The X-Rhymes Nov 2021
there’s no nerve he won’t wrack
when reflected in glass
and he’s there looking back
from the windows I pass
turns my calm to unease
with his smell of ill health
he’s the walking disease
who's infected himself
and he sits by my wife
eating lunch with my kid
like a part of their life
that is usually hid
and I watch them lean in
on each word he spoke
and he gives me this grin
like it's all a big joke
so I show him some anger
I let it all free
say 'hey doppelgänger,
don't doppelgäng me!'
and I shoo him away
like he has leprosy
not before he can say
'I am you, me and we'
now he’s lying in wait
while his power accrues
if I dissociate
then he’ll walk in my shoes
so I have to prepare
as he’s bound to return
any time, anywhere
that's the first thing you learn.
The X-Rhymes Nov 2021

3 diff’rent times of day
3 diff’rent kinds of meal
3 diff’rent parts to play
3 diff’rent ways they’d feel

3 diff’rent, work, home, play
3 diff’rent spokes their wheel
3 diff’rent, pay, love, lay
3 diff’rent, earn, spurn, steal

3 diff’rent minds they say
3 diff’rent wounds to heal
3 diff’rent worlds to stay
3 diff’rent realms of real

3 diff’rent, sounds okay
3 diff’rent, no big deal
3 diff’rent, just their way
3 diff’rent’s the appeal
  Nov 2021 The X-Rhymes
Ashly Kocher
Crisp morning air
Cool breeze blanketing your skin
Sun rising high above
Taking it all in
  Nov 2021 The X-Rhymes
Seranaea Jones

One is supposed to sleep with the intention of repairing the mind and the body of all those ills encountered in daily life, but This night was not one for rest. I think the clock was reading 9:53 last I had glanced, but it could have been 3:59 or sumthin.

Anyway, my eyes opened to the stature of a very tall and muscular fellow holding a pitchfork to my side. He said "Miss Seranaea Jones, you have been selected to participate in a wonderous event. Your going to tour the finest Pits of Hell and all of the recent improvements. Satan has"personally" endorsed this invitation to you, so we must be on our way !"

I think at that moment I said, "its not done yet, let it cook a while longer".

I was not really capturing current events, so he jabbed that pitchfork deeper and pushed me right off the bed. Frickin hurt too, so realizing
that this was gonna be a non-negotiable parlay, I agreed to his terms.

(or "It", I dunno... this dood was holding a pitchfork on me and I couldn't find my gun)

We went outside to his vehicle. It was Hottest **** thing I ever saw !
We got inside and I was surrounded by blinking indicators, computer graphics and some serious leather seats and solid wood paneling. He said "Please fasten your seatbelt, it is not currently permissible to have you killed". I said "Thanks" with a fearful stare of a chicken being held by its throat.

He started the engine and Ohh !!!— such an immaculate sound emanated from it. With one pull of the gearshift we plunged STRAIGHT DOWN. Before I passed out I saw what looked like platoons of dragons in formation poised to venture upwards into to midst of the Earth. My last element of memory was of cheeks rippling with the force of acceleration.

Having survived the trip down to the Negative Pearly Gates, the next thing I knew I was in a fish and ski motor boat cruising the River Styx. Had all those extras too, depth finders and flat monitors that surrounded the driver position— the screens were filled with the ******...

wished i had not looked into the rear view mirror,
looking back was a version of myself as some
mummified shriveled past-tense
Seranaea  "thing"—
                                      — ughhh

He pointed to the sign at the entrance. It looked new enough, but was marred by bullet holes and deep scrapes.

It said—

                       "Ye who enter, Abandon All Hope.
                              ATMs are available inside.
                                        No Smoking"  

He said "My apologies for the condition of this entrance, we just recently had some particularly unruly admissions". I nervously nodded, thinking on how unruly I was upstairs to have become a Hellbound tourist.

The next thing I noticed were the creatures in the water, their mouths gaping wide, wrapped by bedsheet-white skin tightened around skulls and pairs of hollowed eyes. They were screaming knives into my soul.
My captor said "reach into this bag and throw one of these out to them"  
It was a bag of charcoal briquettes, so I took one and threw it. One of those creatures snapped it up and then slipped back underwater.

Cool !!

I did this a number of times, skipping the briquettes and watching them get snatched as like so many minnows gulping down bread crumbs. I was really getting the hang of it by the time I suddenly Slipped And Fell !! –splashing into the water as these things start immediately towards me, reaching for new flesh with long sharp Nails When I—

4 AM

Woke Up !

wrapped tight
in a bed sheet—

peppered with

think id better be a good girl
from now on !!!

s jones

a short story i posted on
Myspace, back in '07.
Happy Halloween !
The X-Rhymes Nov 2021

'neath full white moon, from wolfsbane bloom
there came a gloomy cry
this haunting tune of doom and tomb
made Tom assume he'd die

at first a growl and then a howl
what prowled beyond his sight?
the noise had fouled the evening's cowl
and scared an owl to flight

as if a hound was gaining ground
somewhere around the trees
these kinds of sounds can make hearts pound
and blood's been found to freeze

and though the thud of feet on mud
said likelihood a dog
still there Tom stood, scared in the wood
in scuds of misty fog

but who'd have guessed, a man, quite stressed
would crest atop the hill
who's vest did wrest, 'til bare of chest
and undressed, fell dead still

then with a moan, a snout was grown
while other bones constricted
just as was shown in films he'd known
or Twilight Zone depicted

like wolfman lore from days of yore
claws tore through finger tips
then paws to floor, down on all fours
teeth poured from jaw through lips

and with fur grew, transition through
it's blue eyes flew Tom's way
to seek a clue, accrue a view
if Tom knew what to say

Tom felt a chill, a deadly thrill
his heart stood still, a while
but soon wolf's will seemed to distill
and was to **** it's style?

it had not leapt or even crept
just kept Tom in it's eye
a slight misstep would be inept
it said "accept or die"

this lycanthrope was out to scope
how modern dopes react
how would Tom cope with this tightrope?
his only hope was tact

and thinking through what best to do
Tom soon came to this sense
where once was due a scream or two
might now construe offence

should Tom address it's differentness
and call it pest or clown?
or treat as guest this man cross dressed
with no thoughtless pronoun?

a quick brainstorm then Tom got warm
how he'd perform it's test
accept the norm that folks transform
to which form suits them best

a gypsy spell or silver shell
could mean death knell incurred
now Tom could tell how to do well
- just yell all the right words

best not hold with thoughts of old
be controlled by the past
forget what's told in books once sold
don't scold it an outcast

Tom did not dare to curse and swear
turn to the air his nose
was well aware it's wrong to stare
at men who wear wolf clothes

he'd tow the line, not undermine
so opined joyously
'if you define yourself lupine
or canine, fine by me'

the tension eased with wolf appeased
so pleased it wagged it's tail
it's test not breezed with expertise
he'd teased a pass from fail

so off Tom skipped (more likely, slipped)
his hat tipped in 'goodnight'
and though equipped with puns and quips
to stay tight lipped felt right.
The X-Rhymes Nov 2021
there are times when I feel
like an old waterwheel
and my bucket fills slowly with drips
when it’s full to the top
I lurch forward and drop
and descend with my heart doing flips

or if that sounds unreal
think an old Ferris wheel
spinning round with the customers gone
or the space on a clock
that connects tick and tock
or the hand poised between twelve and one

on the brink of free fall
through a cavernous hall
to the skull’s epicentre, the brain
it’s a moment of doubt
or a temporal white out
as before, it just happened again

what goes round comes around
I'm a ship, run aground
not profound - just my mind being hacked
something wrong with my head
had a rupture and bled
or by anxiety just attacked?
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