The Entreating Chronicles#1 “THE QUIBBLE QUASMS OF BELLE MORTE”

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

Greetings fellow spooks & ghouls.  Some random short pieces I decided to put together as possible ongoing compilation of “shorties” its a new year.  Time for a new outlook.  Enjoy the following tidbits.  As always feedback appreciated.

Pax,

Bone Mother Belleen ❤

 

I.

“Forgiveness. The scale you measure of the hurtful act that was done to be measured against the something that you love. There was a moment of falter, a cut so deep the impenetrable became the penetrated. The emotion of true sorrow felt so fluid embedded into entire psyche. If you love something you must love its evil as well as it’s innocence. To love only one part, one cannot love truly. You must accept the wiles,observe the hurt and measure the scale consciously. Forgiveness and love you must embrace to the bitterest of ends” ~T. B. Morte  © 2017~

 

II.

“What is black? A color so deep and engulfing it swallows light whole. Born from the shadows, nothing can be seen inside it. So black are the hearts of the fallen the weak are unable to fathom loving them. So dark were the souls of the broken the brave could not help but love them against all odds.”~ T.B. Morte © 2017 ~

 

III.

“Love your Hero, and love them well. For they have the spirit of giants and the bravery of fools. They will love what they endear so brutally, they will avenge any slight against them at all costs. They will carry you upon a broken back, they will be your shield, they will be your iron cladded will and word. But if you were to mock the love the Hero gives, you have foolisheartedly committed a most heinous act. You have broken their spirit. The hero then can no longer sing with shine, the song is now tainted, darkness slowly encrypted. The fool must now think of the catastrophe they have unleashed. They have morphed the Hero into a Villain.” ~T.B. Morte © 2017~

Your Suicidal Doll

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A new offering of bones for the garden please enjoy the following selection.  Feedback always appreciated.

 

Spooky regards,

Bone Mother Belle ❤

 

Your Suicidal Doll 05/31/2017

Into the abysmal night she flew,

away from the gossamer webs,

far from the shadows of pale light,

The doll ran far away,

It was all she could do,

To hide the truth,

So that no one could see,

That the doll was falling apart,

Imperfections that could no longer be masked,

Everyone would see the ugly truth,

There would be whispers,

Words that traveled,

A reputation ruined that was held dear,

So into the abysmal night she flew,

To find her oblivion,

No one would care,

No being would grieve,

She will only be remembered,

By the way she so deceived,

And so into the night she flew,

To find a death that was worthy,

The worth of a doll.

© 2017 T.B. Morte

 

 

The Wolf Likes Red

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My take of Little Red Riding Hood, not so little nor is she not so sweet.

 

The Wolf Likes Red 11/18/2016

The wolf felt lack luster,

as the edges of his prime,

fell away like leaves in the fall,

Sought something to revitalize him,

To awake the primal beast,

That was locked away years ago,

Deep in the heart of the wood,

He ventured,

Along the twisted paths,

He stalked,

Tis not prey he was looking for,

He was unsure,

Just something fresh,

Something to make him feel alive again,

A stir of the blood,

A caress of the flesh,

There I stood on the river banks,

I watched him,

How he moved,

As if he danced in tune with the wind,

White was his fur,

The color of fresh fallen snow,

Eyes that were old blue,

Almost angelic,

Nearly ethereal,

Too pure for the likes of  me,

As my fangs gleamed,

I wonder if he could see me,

The silhouette of raven hair,

The cloak of scarlet red,

Lips of crimson,

Dimples that brought a devilish smirk,

He found me,

Caught my scent,

As our eyes locked marking each other as predator,

There was no Grandmother to save,

No Huntsmen to interrupt,

Our tale would have a better ending,

The wolf sought the solace of an angel,

but welcomed the embrace of a demon.

©2016 T.B Morte

 

 

 

 

 

Scheherazade’s Ending

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Its been a while since reading the  tales of Scheherazade, but what always fascinated me was that she used her wit to survive.  With this piece I wanted to use that same  aspect but the outcome to be much different indeed.

Scheherazade’s Ending 09/28/2016

I didn’t choose the harem life,

The harem life chose me,

From a young child,

Taken away,

Handed over,

I don’t remember,

For its all in the same,

I am entwined in the Caliphate,

To be sometimes cherished,

On occasion adored,

A face among many other flowers,

The wife of the Sultan,

Its privileges I am blessed with,

And its curses as well,

Devoted to one man till my dying breath,

Although my devotion will never be matched,

And often incurred is my husband’s wrath,

The flowers of the garden are often weeded out and replaced,

I did not chose the harem life don’t you see,

The harem life chose me,

I have learned it is better to be the rose,

Than the prickly thorn,

Lash after lash,

I learned it was not wise,

To speak out against the mighty Caliph,

My fellow flowers,

Who also felt the sting,

Did not agree,

So by under the Moon’s brightest beam,

I bore witness,

One by one,

They took their vengeance,

With  the sharpest of blades,

Piercing the Sultan’s skin,

Till there was nothing left of him,

My caste becoming a widow,

I did not chose the harem life,

The harem life chose me,

For it  is against the law,

To strike the skin of the Sultan,

For it is against the laws of the Harem,

to be without their Master,

The punishment is slow death,

Today I became a widow,

It is also the day that I shall die.

 

©2016 T.B.Morte

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In The Wood

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My take on Goldilocks and the Three bears. Enjoy\m/

 

 In The Wood 09/18/2016

Beware the bears they said,

Over and over,

Spoken over the years,

Beware the bears,

They favor those with golden hair,

It was a myth,

I gathered nothing to fear,

So into the woods,

In the cover of darkness,

I made with abandoned haste,

In the heart of the woods,

I found myself,

I was lost,

I was alone,

Beware the bears,

They would  say,

They prey over those whose locks are gold,

I heard a footstep,

where everything else was silent,

Taking a sharp intake of breath,

As I heard a  bloodcurdling growl,

that sent shivers down my spine,

Turning slowly my eyes widened with fear,

There was the monster,

The bears were quite real,

Long was her brown hair,

Eyes were blue,

As she looked at me,

And I looked at her,

There were others that joined her,

Mirror images,

Long was their brown hair,

Eyes that were blue,

All female,

They accosted me,

coddled me,

whispered in a tongue,

I could barely understand,

as they kept touching my hair,

my golden ringlets,

I stayed in the forest,

beware the bears they said,

I learned their was nothing to fear,

Long was their brown hair,

Eyes that were blue,

Gold was my hair,

as were my cubs too.

© 2016  T.B. Morte

 

 

 

The Fallen Queen

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A follow-up to my recent alternate Snow -White fairy tale. From the POV of “The Sweet Prince”.  Enjoy ❤ Belleen

 

The Fallen Queen 09/13/2016

Dark was my heart,

pale was her skin,

she loved me still,

it echoed through me,

Would she love me still,

if she really understood,

that I was more monster than man,

Damned beyond forgiveness,

 

I am no longer the Prince,

But an aconite of lust,

The vassal of the Queen,

made of flesh and bone,

Her whim is my command,

No matter how perverse,

Its the only world I know,

This cascade of  exquisite darkness,

 

The Queen was captured,

My beloved made sure of that,

Her wrath swaddled in justice,

As my captor was made to dance in hot irons,

Her cries brought  a silent agony,

Our endgame  destroyed too soon,

 

She will slowly die,

And I along with her,

My sweet Princess,

Can she feel my secret pain?

Will she love me still,

If she knew the truth,

That I loved the woman,

who is dying in the fire,

 

The princess whose pale as snow,

Conquered the fallen queen,

But destroyed the heart of  what she claimed to have loved the most,

The Prince  the creature of the Queen.

 

©2016 T.B. Morte

 

 

 

 

 

The Villetry of Fae

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It seems we are clearly in the Alternate Fairy Tale phase again.  Please enjoy the following selection.

Spooky Regards,

Bone Mama Belleen

 

The Villetry of Fae 09/01/2016

There lies our dearest Beauty,
Deep in slumber,
Wrapped in gossamer,
Guarded by cobweb,
For an eternity,
Our beauty will slumber,

For there was no choice,
The spell had to be cast,
It was for the best,
Although many tears were shed,
To protect what we loved,
Against the others,
More importantly against Beauty herself,

This spell was cast before,
To salve Maleficent’s curse,
Beauty would receive true love’s kiss,
And things would begin anew,

There was another part of the curse,
No one knew save yet Maleficent,
It died with her as the prince destroyed her,
The kiss of the Prince carried the trace of Insanity,

As our Beauty awakened with life,
She could only see death,
So death she caused,
Her thirst for bloodlust could not be slaked,

Her Father the King battered and tortured,
Next was her mother the Queen burnt at the stake,
Quick work was made of the Prince with a beheading,
My sisters Flora and Fauna met a fate worse than death,
Their wings were ripped and torn asunder,
I being left the only survivor,

For what is a fairy without their wings?
Our beauty did this,
The princess we loved as a babe,
Guarded as a child,
Our Beauty in the end Maleficent’s gift,

So the spell was cast,
I muttered the incantation with a heavy heart,
As I became the villain,
Beauty fell into the deepest of slumbers,
This time no Prince to come with a rescuing kiss,
Only I the fairy Merriweather to watch over her,
Till the end of days,

My Briar Rose,
My darling Beauty,
My bane made of thorns.

©2016 T.B.Morte

The Sweet Prince

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

The Bone Mother returns with a fresh helping of bones for the garden!  Returning to  my fairy tale roots with a interesting twist to “Snow White & Prince Charming”.  I decided to go with prose format to give a more haunted tone.  This is dedicated to a very special person my waifchu a London Amaterasu-Hecate an incredible person I met at a very cool place.  Thank you London for being my rock and anchor in the stormy seas ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

 

The Sweet Prince 08/30/2016

Did I know him?
They would ask me,
Should I laugh at these curious inquiries?
Or do I frown in scorn?
Of course I knew him,

You all know the tale,
The royal children,
The princess whose skin was pale as snow,
The prince whose destiny was to be charming,
Our parents celebrating our future before we could crawl,

When mother died,
Our destiny bound tighter,
As Father was determined to honor the pact,
So we grew up together,
Fighting and tumbling,
we did everything together,
Over the years our hearts grew fonder,

Then one day a stranger entered our kingdom,
Whose beauty was shrouded in mystery,
And there began my misery,
As she took everything away from me,
All I held dear,

My stepmother with her tricks of illusion,
Slowly killed my doting father,
Bound me in chains and slavery,
Leaving me to the whims of her pet Hunter,

But what I could not and will not forgive,
Is the breaking of my sweet prince,
Broken in spirit,
Twisted in mind,
Destroyed of heart,

Did I know him?
You would ask this of me?
I knew him the best,
Loved him the most,

I loved him,
Before the dwarves,
Before the poisonous apple,
Before I knew what love was,
I loved the Prince,

Even in madness,
As I no longer the see the charming prince,
But the creature the Queen has made,
Dark is his heart,
Pale is my skin,
I love him still.

©2016 T. B.Morte

Dead Men Tell No Tales

Dead Men Tell No Tales 07/27/2016

Dead men tell no tales,

At least that is what has been told to thee,

As my love and I oscillated towards the sea,

Further into the waves we danced to and fro,

The kelp wrapping around  our ankles,

While cuttlefish tickled our toes,

Further into the sea we were pulled,

I was not afraid for I felt at home,

As I looked into my lover’s eyes,

Beguiled he was deeply enchanted ,

Failed to noticed the water levels had risen,

Or that my form had changed,

My legs gone replaced by spined fish tail,

Propelling us deeper into the ocean,

I heard my love cry out as his lungs were filled with salt water,

The lack of oxygen did him in,

Pity my jolly sailor bold,

As he went  limp in my arms,

I released my love and watched his body float towards the depths below,

Pity that he loved  a siren,

His story will be kept silent forever by his death,

For a dead man cannot tell a mermaid’s tale.

©2016 T.B. Morte

 

 

Ave Dementia

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

I bring you fresh words from the garden.  Enjoy!

 

Ave Dementia 07/06/2016

Ave Dementia!

I  greet thee,

Most beloved,

With sister rage,

and brother sorrow,

We call to thee,

Come join us in tragedy’s  revelry,

with the festival that never ends,

Tis a gathering of souls,

The Lost,

The Forgotten,

The Broken,

The Damned,

Miscreants gather at the sound of the broken horn,

Come join us,

As we  dance under the shadows,

Our circle stands strong,

As we gleam under the pale  beams of the silvery moon,

The song has been sung,

Do you not hear the music of the nightingales?

Ave Dementia!

We call to thee,

Harken us!

Join us and become one  of the damned beloved.

©2016 T.B. Morte