Ouija by Vlad Teodor Pectu

Yesterday’s voting results are in, so let’s give a big congratulations to Vlad Teodor Petcu and his poem, Ouija. You can find the original here, on his blog.

Thank you to all the poets who joined in with the prompt this week. There will be a new prompt on Monday, and remember, regardless of how we pick a winner, all entries are considered for the upcoming issue of the magazine.


Ouija

A voice from the shadows fills the air
It freights the heart and puts rational mind to despair
Her words come blunt, truthfully and weighty
Heed the sapience even when is naughty

Graphics and symbols engraved
On paths shady enlightened
By magic of the fallen paved
With gates and keepers darkened

A band of spirits the deed enact
So the mortals can contact
The undead and the departed
The unknown….and the retarded

God and Satan are debating
If it’s the echo of a forgery
But we find them guns calibrating
When the naked truth reveals its mystery

Science and religion are antiques
When developing new techniques
Thru mists and witchcraft you are reborn
By the gracious god’s quill and his sinning thorn

Fathom everything with grace
While you seek the god
No mask can hide your taint
But for getting his embrace
Enthrall the perky muse on the forsaken rod
To rotten the new aphrodisiac saint

There is the foulest of decisions
When waste becomes from diamonds and gold
The corpse of the quill carries obsessions
Everyone will greedy taste
Panting hard and deep losing their chaste
As you, with last breath, to him thy soul you’ve sold

Your body is a vestige of a primal
Hymn of tears, death, and blood
Into a ravishing juice melting grotesque
Of delirious ambrosia and acidic nectar
When is caressed and bitten feral
Bones are cleaned to the thrill an exotic mood
Offered on the boiled altar
Horny-skinned token of unholy picturesque

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Holiday Madness by Vlad Teodor Petcu

On this very land, in future’s time of afar,
When three moons rise and entomb every star,
There is a legend that will be told
With gory voice, as the land embraces the eternal cold:

On the paths of corpses, at one and any crossroad is lit
A candle with darkness around which all undead could orbit,
And they will all be led by the alluring shade of Akasha, the goddess,
In lights torn by twisted laces of pleasures…
They walk to the residence of The Snow Queen, unjust ruler and duchess,
March to the New Toy Shop, the North’s ruins and only standing fortress.
Here, on the first day of Hanukkah in 2016*, the last battle takes place.
The Vampire king, awakened and victorious, will bring to his daughter a face:
The head of Santa Claus; then leave this forsaken space.
Dragons stand on guard here from the last Kwanzaa,
When they collect the humans as matunda ya kwanza**.

The whole family gathers around the crystallized white tree,
Exchanging gruesome presents with binds of flesh;
The noise of madness echoes throughout the festive holiday
As white and blue flames of ice scintillates a glimpse of doomsday.

“Say your unholy prayers in Christmas’s skin!
Let the weeping music play and the feast begin!”,
Thundered the Snow Queen, then she gives the cue:
“Wrap Red Nose Rudolph from the dungeons! Put him on the barbecue!”

*The first day of Hanukkah in 2016 is on the 24th of December
**Matunda ya kwanza (Swahili) = first fruits of the harvest


Congratulations to this week’s community favorite, Vlad Teodor Petcu . You can find the original piece on his blog, here.

Be sure to check in Monday for the newest prompt.

Photo Credit: fotoman228 on deviant art/ Design Credit: Laura A. Lord

Dystopian by Vlad Teodor Petcu

In the thirteenth age of the Ununseptium nuclear storm,
The vestige of humans lies exposed in primal skins.
Sun is obliterated; his reign in tenebrous eclipse is walled.
Stars are in obscure dungeons enthralled,
While under moon’s ray of noise are called
Liar gods and mortals… now quantum’s decay,
In obscure abyss to be chaotic reborn;
As the particles of endless time grievous phantasms begin to form.
Caverns awake, mouth wide open as coffins,
And, as rapacious kings of old, over the shattered surface
Go rampant and increase all undead life consumption.
Clouds gather in bitter wings of fallen muse’s lace
Bringing, at dawn, the revival of Akasha’s tantalizing miasma.
Rotten redemption lurks in the shadows of the quill thief.


Congratulations to this week’s community favorite, Vlad Teodor Petcu . You can find the original piece on his blog, here.

Be sure to check in Monday for the newest prompt.

Photo Credit: ghib10 on deviant art/ Design Credit: Laura A. Lord

Winter by Mel Douleur

She will steal your breath
Facing all unafraid
The power behind her frailty
Assumes a beauty
Found only
In sparkling, white crispness

Out of the wonderland
Sometimes rage
Defies reason
As she creates
The Blizzard
To prove her prestige

A storm like no other
Chilling and fear inducing
But with a purity
Not found in thunder
Lightning or even
Cleansing, torrential rain

The light inside her
Can sometimes be blinding
You cannot stare too long
You dare not breathe her in
You will not outlast her
Sweet Winter

Her fierceness
Will defy the strength
Of man
While her peacefulness
May invite pleasures
Unknown by too many

In her coldness
You will find warmth
In her grace
You will find foulness
In her design
You will find uninhibited chaos

Sweet, fierce winter
Often underestimated
Rarely coveted
But always
And forever
Picturesque and appreciated.


Congratulations to this week’s community favorite, Mel Douleur. You can find the original piece on her blog, here.

Be sure to check in Monday for the newest prompt.

Photo Credit: vuzel on deviant art/ Design Credit: Laura A. Lord

Left Logically Yet Right Creative by David Ellis

Basements are where we find ourselves, if we want to retreat from an indifferent world

Consolation comes alongside an axe to grind, since everyday life expects us to experience and overcome lows

Curtains are certain to come down on individuals, if their unsavoury motives are summarily revealed

Denial of ideals means we can’t connect to those we care about to see how good we make them feel

Expectations are always too high, demands we foist upon us just to impress others are unreasonable

Jittering from one thing to the next leads to unnecessary stress, the effects are often irreversible

Masks cannot help but slip when there’s nothing for them to grip; they soon start feeling fake

Obituaries are read side by side a heavy heart, the death of any relationship ultimately has tolls to pay

Restless in our endeavours, we’re repeatedly trying to please too many bodies with meagre time, all at once

Shivers run up and down our spines, whether we create them out of either fear or excitement

Swaying to the music when it fizzles in our minds, a defence mechanism designed to slay boredom

Swollen eyes from staying up round the clock, striving to finish off things we passionately believe in

Tumbling in headfirst isn’t the best strategy, unless you enjoy being hurt right from the start

Whiskey provides us a fiery kick but if you don’t like it then any alcohol or sugar rush will work

Meanwhile, on the other hand and flipside of this yin and yang coin

There are tons of cool things down here, silence allows us to focus consciousness in the Basement

Is it such a bad thing if we encounter lows? There wouldn’t be highs otherwise if it’s any Consolation

Trust is in short supply, it pays to keep our minds open wide, we must draw open the Curtains

Lauding ideals as pinnacles of evolution is what we strive for, no more living in the shadow of Denial

Playing to our strengths has consequence of giving everything our best, so we can raise Expectations

Questions we must ask, why are we are we so restless, then fix at the source to avoid Jittering

Hiding in obscurity just to please someone else? If we maintain our true identities, no need for any Masks

Relationships can die but teach us how to live and love stronger than before, new beginnings not Obituaries

A perfectionist is fine but you can’t please everyone all of the time, so be calm and less Restless

Abandon fears and instead, deliver pleasure to your lover, spine tingling affection creating Shivers

Music is soul nourishment, breathing in every note and word, mountains moved, opinions are now Swaying

Cheeks should be engorged from copious smiling and laughing, whereas egos should never ever be Swollen

Pride usually arrives before a fall but we don’t tend to learn anything, unless at first we’re Tumbling

Everybody has a shot at a happy life, true love and laughter, so in honour, let’s raise a toast with a glass of Whiskey

In the end, maybe we all just want the same thing

If we help each other, there’s nothing we can’t accomplish


Congratulations to this week’s community favorite, David Ellis. You can find the original piece on his blog, here.

Be sure to check in Monday for the newest prompt.

Photo Credit: RevolverWinds on deviant art/ Design Credit: Laura A. Lord

I Turn My Head by Franz

I turn my head
when I see kids starve
puppy dog eyes
with the Sarah McLaughlin music in the background
I turn my head
when I see people getting massacred
media has become a circus
with YouTube videos of cats failing
I turn my head
when I can’t do nothing about it I slowly die inside
with only my fears to hide
I turn my head
so sensationalized, so desensitized
I wonder if i’m soulless because I can’t cry
because I just can’t so I
turn
my
head
stalemates are checkmates
I don’t see any changes
government economy conspiracies; fuck the Illuminati
I turn my head
Hollywood promotes occult like the junkies pop pills
with all this shit going on there has to be a hope for the future
an end to all this suffering
a rights to all our wrongs
there has to be a savior
so there has to be a time
and a place
where I finally
look
up


Congratulations to this week’s community favorite, Franz. You can find the original piece on his blog, here.

Be sure to check in Monday for the newest prompt.

Photo Credit: Dm3t-7zen / Design Credit: Laura A. Lord