The soul-eater has corrupted me thoroughly
this world teeters on brinks of insanity –
the soul-eater lurches thru
underground tunnels quietly,
he searches for innocence
to destroy violently –
save me from the soul-eater,
I beg you, please,
nothing is sweeter to him
than sadistic glee.
(Photo by BSD on Unsplash)
Everyone wore masks this particular day, some sparkled, and some were dull and gray. But there was one man who went maskless – this man I saw on the street corner. His face was normal as could be: a thin nose, bushy eyebrows, full lips, and ruddy, plump cheeks.
He stood there, beckoning me to come forward amid the masked people walking to and fro. “Did you know,” he started, “that I wear a mask, as well?”
What do you see?
I distorted this photo so much that it turned out looking like a Rorschach test, though a trippy one. The original photo was an illustration of earth as seen from space. Like a Rorschach test, I can definitely make out some images, faces, etc. in here.
Near the very bottom of the image, I see something that looks like a Cosmic Buddha. But that’s just me!
Since I’ve been writing more poetry, I’ve been reading more poetry lately. I’ve read some newer stuff, but I’ve also been reading many of the classics, including William Blake, T.S. Eliot, and W.B. Yeats.
I recently read an anthology of 20th century American poetry that was comprehensive regarding the poets it included. One of the poets that struck me the most was John Berryman, and the anthology included poems from his much-celebrated volume called The Dream Songs.
More graphic art! I took this Wikimedia Commons image of Franz Kafka and played around with it. I like the spirals in the background, and the red hue was my favorite of the colors.
Halloween is perhaps my favorite holiday. Really, I love all the fall and winter holidays. But Halloween? What’s not to like? Horror movies, marathon readings of Edgar Allan Poe, perhaps a little Lovecraft.
I compiled a shortlist of my favorite creepy books that are perfect for this time of year. Some of them fall within the umbrella term of “weird fiction.” Others are classic ghost stories that I highly suggest you check out if you haven’t read already. And yeah, they’re all old books – like, really old.
Here’s my list:
The gods often come in disguise. I know this, I know it all too well. But I forget sometimes. The slick salesman didn’t look like a god – far from it. He was a wheeler-and-dealer, a card shark. He told me so.
Jet-black hair slicked back, greasy with gel. White dress shirt, dark red tie that screamed “power!” and “too much testosterone!” What a bore this guy was. He tried to sell me a used car, something that wouldn’t get me very far, one that would creak, moan, die by the side of the road.
After reading Franz Kafka’s complete short stories last year, I was determined to read the three novels that were published posthumously. I find Kafka to be a tremendously interesting writer and literary figure, and after reading most of his work, the recurrent themes became evident.