The Wolf Likes Red

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

Bullet-Kissed Lovesong

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

My spooky folks.   A writing challenge that I accepted featuring a quote that was posted by Donte Collins (via quote that).  All credit of quote goes to original writer.

 

 

Bullet- Kissed Lovesong 01/24/2016

Kissed the bullets simply because  I loved the person who was holding the gun.

When he had hit me it always felt like a kiss.  That was the way we had our true bliss.

Our love story composed of bruises and fists both claiming the title of nihilist.

 

Chainsaw masochist and Lipstick sadist such a lovely couple.  Spent most of our time between each others legs. I only felt something when he was on top of me and vice versa.  The only time while we as lovers felt alive. Sex that was wild and electrifying. While he pounded me we made the earth move.

 

I kissed the bullets because I love the person holding the gun.  I am the Bonnie to his Clyde. Two fucked up people in a fucked up world.  We have nothing but each other.

So of course I kissed the bullets because it was my baby’s gun.

 

©2016 T.B. Morte writing as “Bobbie Jane Claibourne”

From the Collection “Spellbound Morbidia Diavolina”