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 Aug 2015
Kelley A Vinal
D minor
Rembrandt's finer
Paint, oils, a breakfast
of red grapes and green olives
with Homer
Aristotle gazes
Admiration for a bust
An odyssey of emotion
Somewhere in the dust
Bach's fugue is overwhelming
Travelling back in time
Moving skulls around
To rest and surround
Socratic dialogue
resounds
leather-bound, a work of art
 Aug 2015
Brooklynn Nights
pick me up and hold me until i melt
squeeze me so tightly that my bones are crushed
like a mosquito exploding on your forearm
like a stress doll
exhaust me
get lost in me
i'm as wondrous and expansive as a cave
filled with bats
that will sing until you let go if you are to catch one
i promise i can be fun
if you promise me you won't run
when i pull out my guns
 Aug 2015
poetessa diabolica
How many more ******* matches
    'til drowning in waste matter
What happened to good old-fashioned reading & writing poetry?
 Jul 2015
theblndskr
Bloodlust,
He hears it pound. So fast, so ahhhh...
"sshhh,it needs to stop..."
A game tonight? hmmm..
Silence peaks.
fingers point, clicks
- - - lights out. - - -
Pitch dark he kills.
**Hiding the shadow, he fears.
Could be your usual movie ****** scene. But NO.
 Jul 2015
Poetic T
The wind charm perched outside sitting still,
No breath to move it, stagnant
As if
Rigor mortis
Morbidity
Death
Had touched the air, inside he sat,
Tears streaming from his reddened eyes,

"Such beautiful music,

The log fire burned intensely , inside were his branding irons,
He had many in his holder, all sitting neatly,
Stifled noise whimpered near by.

"Time ages many things, many things,
"But bone is a music that sings beautifully,

The white metal was ripe for the flesh, as the
Duck tape peeled slowly, then ripped
As blood spots seeped from skin vandalised
And he recorded every tone that sang forth,

"You are A+ grade my, my, the music we will make,

"Plunged into the  torso slowly,
Not wanting to not damage, that
Delicate,
Exquisite,
Fusion
Of bones that graced the air,
Screams echoing throughout the cabin,
Reverberating like a concerto on the senses.
He puts his headphones on, and with blade
Sharpened to its full potential,
As if a conductor waving it through the air.
With precision he cut, and recorded till silence fell.
Flesh was limp on the floor unwanted,

" Meat for the hounds I think,

As the heart still, faint essence of life's beat clinging,
Thrown to the awaiting dogs.

"Eat your heart out,

(He giggles smiling to himself)

The bone now cleansed of life,
Blood,
Muscle,
Marrow
Expunged from the host, till hollow then
Maliciously worn down to the tune of each, till
The silence breathed out. Each one was unique,
Having its own sound of death,
I heard the gesture of breath upon my master piece
Dangling,
Swaying,
Hanging
Life taken but the voices sing out,
I close my eyes and listen as wind kisses each hollow
And the music of death sings out, each made from
Only one never a mixture, as corrupted
Would the sound get two souls  jousting
Over the voices expelled with winds gesturing them out.
I sell these pieces to those enticed by deaths voice
Hollowed out life, given purpose in silence  
I sit in my chair the brands all in there place.
Tears form as the orchestra of screams scratch
Deep within his soul,
The wind speaks to those bones hanging outside.
if you wish to read any more of my serial writes just click on the #serial*killer tag below hope you enjoy my 32nd one so far
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