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~

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”