Yaser Jan 3

Some nights
under the frightful gaze of the waning gibbous eye -
that looks upon the sleepers and dwellers of the shadow;  
when the murky ever unfolding eternities above
reach their eerie zenith
and the only sound to be chanced upon by the walkers of the dark is the song of the straying whip-poor-will;
something calls out to me from that stygian infinity
with formless primeval words
that scratch away at the walls that encase the mind, ever so brittle

What does it want?
What does it want?
What does it want!

                                                       - An excerpt from the Memoirs of
                                                              Ab­d' Alhazred

Here is a short piece inspired by the works of HP Lovecraft
Trevor Dowe Jan 2

Last night I dreamt again
Of a place long lost from memory
You stood beside me
On a darkened shore
The waning moon overhead
Inky waves crashed in with the tide
The ivory of your skin
Glowed radiantly
And illuminated our way
The island, so small, so large
Was a labyrinth
But you couldn't get lost
And I followed your luminescence
In the core of the maze
Sat an ice statue of us
Locked in agony or ecstasy
So lifelike, so vibrant
And then you sang
A haunting aria of love of loss
Of loneliness and pain
Tears poured down my face
Or maybe it was the ice melting
As I became colder
The statue came to life
And you ran me through with a dagger
My blood froze around us
I watched the sculpture depart

Horror Poem
unsxfe Nov 2017


  w  s  i  g
T  i    t  n



I stop in my tracks.
Am I the only one seeing this?

I scream.




Don't even ask what the inspiration for this one was. Not even I know.
Bannon's Toy Box Oct 2017

Gummy and globulous,
It's fucking phenobulous!
More sweet than a booger
Encrusted with sugar,
The wet, gooey gummy
(That eats through your tummy,
And also will eat through
Your gums, and your teeth too)
Will slap your buds silly
With tastes willy nilly,
With tastes maldelicious,
And bitter pernicious.


Vexren4000 Aug 2017

The challenger deep,
Of the Marianas trench,
Where when man does tread,
The Lovecraftian beasts of lore,
Come to examine,
The humans submarine,
Or pod,
Examining us,
and showing us a fear of the unknown,
That has not been known,
Sice the spawn of man,
Striking rocks in caves,
And praying for fire,
Or pleading for rain.


Joshua Hill Jul 2017

Smoked, Soundless and Secluded-Secured is She, Him, That,
Boundless as the Vast Expanse from Which its Power Resides,
Formed: from a Lack of Being and Seeing and Mostly Wanting,
Depth Beyond Light's Influence,
Perceived by Nothing,
All Water is Earth- Sound Escapes Nothing,
Swallowed and Engulfed, by Her,
Suffered and Switched to the Bile and Core of Ancient Soul,
Cults Beyond their own Contemplation Growled and Gasped,
Freedom Froze from their Gallow's Caw.

They knew Nought of their Own Madness and Involvement,
When the Cold Draught left all Apart Asunder,
They Turned their Backs in the End,
Swearing Nothing but Betrayal,
Begging Innocence an Angel,
For they Never Loved-
Their God, Lover:
Brother, Gone,

It's way past the time he should have awakened...
How dull
Damon Nestor May 2017

In rows they stand,
Locked in patterns, one after the other.
In the field they are one mass of land,
Stalwart in their stance, as similar to their neighbor as to their mother.
Within the fiery skies above their planted heads,
In lanes unmarred by planned similarity, flies a beast cast of a different die.
Black as night, with wings of smoke; within those fiery skies they fly.
There you will find me.

In lines one by one,
Single file on either side of tamed nature,
Grazing along black river avenues, stand carefully planned hovels beneath the sun.
They are faceless, markedly lacking the unique touch of artistry to mature.
While crowded entities parade upon the market,
Great amphibious royalty croon ancient songs to the land around,
Gifting the night with the grand chaos of their sound.
There you will find me.

Not content to face bitter winds upon modern lanes,
A dweller of the urban landscape seeks out that which most abstain.
Deep in the dark hollows, where the gods of yesterday lie within still,
A fool seeks sanity amongst the ancestral beings who, within these spaces fill.
In the shadows of the great old ones,
Reveling in the divine lost amidst human progress,
There you will find me.

Axel Mar 2017

My mind wanders upon paths untreaden for untold times. Man has forgotten its memories here, long forsaken  are the ruins of this place. Silently draped in slumber between the mountains and the glaciers lay the sanctum.

And it was within its waters, upon seeing my own reflection that a void inside had filled itself to the brim with an agonizing terror that crept into the deepest part of my creature. And i cast eyes upon the monster i had thought to have become. A dreary dark casts down its cloak on the sky and the midnight orb spreads a sickening and slowly dying glow upon my skin. The faintest smell of cinder has drawn me near to the forsaken wastes.. a search for salvation, a cure for my illness, my bane.. I had sought mine own undoing. For is it not that paradise awaits in bittersweet death? An escape from anguished life with its toils, its charades and strife. Where better to strike the hand to oneself than in the cold embrace of mother earth.

Death is life in reverse. All man has accumulated and aspired to be, slowly vapours into nothing because everything started with nothing. Now walk we shall in a place where man walks beneath earth and earth rests upon him. It is here with trees i did connect and further lost sense of the human being. An uncontainable darkness of the most peculiar and ardent nature didst sink her claws deep beneath my soul, ravenously tearing away layer after layer of my wellbeing.

Hope burned down with furious immolation, upon this altar i submit to my own desecration. The flaying of my essence, bloodletting of the shell that once was mine.

I drink now my own blood, tasting sweet like the redest of wine.
Vampire i have become... the unkindling of mankind hath begun...
‘That is not dead which can eternally lie.. and with strange aeons even death may die.’

Next page