“Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.” – Franz Kafka
(more…)Author: Nick
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I have decided to celebrate tonight. You must be asking why. It’s because here, in my solitary cell, the pagans who worship me, the religious cultists, have thrown an extravagant ceremony that coronates my kingship.
You see, they call me Killer Ugly. I am the god of the downtrodden, the people who most like to dismiss and push aside in this capitalistic free-for-all world. Someone must look out for these folks, no? I am their champion.
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So, I want to try something different. I’ve noticed other fiction and poetry blogs on WordPress that do this, and I want to give it a try. Send me your poetry, fiction and art I’ll feature it on Fiction & Ideas.
I’m interested in anything, really, but I especially like the weird fiction and horror genres. However, if you read my blog, you’ll know that I jump around and try my hand at other stuff, too. So, send hopeful poetry, spiritual stuff, science fiction, fantasy, whatever you got.
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Here’s another piece of AI-generated art inspired by a flash fiction story I wrote a while back called “The Man Who Lived in the Bookstore.”
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Here’s another piece of AI-generated art inspired by my poem “Blood-Black Heaven Fantasies.” The art was generated by using the program, Night Cafe. Here’s the text from the poem:
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You are my last hope in this rotting city of thieves
The only gore-angel that I still believe
The agony and venom that I receive
Makes me love this sugary disease
Nightmares, visions, cries, and dreams
Your splendor brings me to my knees
I left the city, my feet aching, left you far behind
I followed the scar-faced vagabond who was deaf and blind
To the slaughter fields where I thought I could find
The grave of my father and my tribe which has been confined
Alas, you followed me there, your eyes seared and shined
With the ferocity of a hundred demons and the spirits of war
We marched among the living and stepped over the corpse
Of the burning man who burns no more
And the deity children who dared confront us
I am no longer a man but a beaten down animal
I wander and drift, my homeland in tatters
Pain sears through my body, each and every atom
You are not the liberator whom I thought would bring peace
But a grim reaper and Hades’ ravenous beast
Murder me now, give me my final rest
Here is my knife, sink it into my chest!
But you’d rather see me suffer, die slow and agonizingly
Wither away until my pain is gratifying to you
You are a creature, a truant, a curse against men
And I will hang myself in these killing fields
Bring this all to an endShare this:
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Here’s a piece of artificial intelligence-generated art I created by feeding some lines of a recent poem of mine into the program. I like how this turned out! Super creepy. The poem that inspired the robot to create the art is called “Brain Bleed,” which I published on the blog recently.
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Hunger rips my insides
My stomach explodes with shame
I shouldn’t have done that back there
Making the public believe their savior is a counterfeit and he’s really out to extinguish the cells in their tiny brains
Out here, in the wilderness, my dreamscape is abandoned
Yet, it’s full of the blackness and dirt of galaxies
Dark matter, everywhere, clouding my eye sockets
And burning up the skies with auburn alien lights
Those meteors are not naturally caused phenomena
They are celestial divinations manifested from our persecution complex
Judgment days on summer nights, firefly obsession
The insects cover us all and puncture our leathery skin
And the sky opens and dumps buckets of blood rain
It smells like the fatal sins of Saint Francis
And these black-blood drops of liquid taste like outlawed heavens
That I saw in the dreams of the dead children
We never stop dreaming, hoping for our illusions to be realized
But once we get there, it’s so cold and hostile
That we wish the demon deities would let us go back
Heaven is right here! Come get your salvation!
I’m selling it for only $29.99, and you get a free trial
Cancel any time, stream your pornographic paradise straight to your mind
That’s what the dead want, just to be close to us
And cuddle our warm bodies at nightfallShare this:
