Sick is the one who Adored Me…

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New writing.  I know its been a while. This may become subject to re-writes.  I’m realizing sometimes, I have a tendency to write pieces when I have no other avenue to express something.  Which is okay, its getting channeled somewhere right?

Spooky Regards,

Bone Mother Belleen

 

Sick is the one who Adored Me 05/14/2018

Sick is the one who adored me,

when the aesthetic fit.

And when the sleeve fit,

I was adored,

I was loved,

I was simply owned.

 

Sick is the one who treasured me,

When it was appropriate,

When I was deemed worthy,

When the punishment fit the crime,

 

Sick was the one who adored me,

Sick was the one who loved me,

Sick was the one who broke me,

Sick was the one who forsaked me,

 

Sick was the one who adored me,

when the aesthetic fit,

When I no longer fit,

he chose to adore her.

 

©2018 T.B. Morte 

 

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LUST-BOUND

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More new writing! Many cauldrons boiling.  Feedback welcomed.

Pax,

Belleen

 

Lust-Bound  03/19/2018

The vassals of lust,

holds my heart its hostage,

My knees made weak,

By the sounds of his voice,

My body reacts,

To the tones of his moans,

As much as I refuse,

this lust cannot be slaked,

Therefore I am doomed,

I am now passions prisoner,

Subject to an unknown fate,

Meanwhile I regale in the beauty,

the beauty of his violence.

 

©2018 T.B. Morte 

 

ENDLESS

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New writing.  New direction for me.  Feedback welcomed.

 

Spooky Regards,

Bone Mother Belle

 

ENDLESS 03/18/2018

If you were to ask me,

how I felt about thee,

I could not give one answer,

But I would give many,

My feelings for you are bottomless,

it depths like oceans,

My passion for you,

scorches the dry earth in flames,

A bountiful cornucopia of emotions,

All about you,

At the edges of the world,

I will wait to catch you,

When your soul is torn asunder,

I will love thee,

When you fall to your knees,

by the burdens you carry,

I will love thee,

When you take your last breath,

upon my kiss,

I will love thee,

So you will know in the end,

even in death I loved thee.

© 2018 T.B. Morte 

 

SLEEPLESS…..

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Sometimes you think you meet “The One” and you find out they are simply not part of the dream. As always feedback appreciated.

 

Spooky Regards,

~B~.

Sleepless 10/11/2017

Get thee to sleep,
Close thine eyes in the knowing,
You have lost something,
That others have fought to grab,
There for the taking,
Yet you squandered,
Foolish beyond measure,
No tears to be shed,
There is still solace to be found,
Places elsewhere hold comfort,
Yet the brightest treasure shines,
Even in the darkest depths,
There it will remain locked in place,
Only opened to whoever holds the rightful key,
Get thee to sleep,
Close thine eyes and dream,
In knowing you will still have to seek,
For the treasure will only open to those that wear the crown,
and you are not the King.

©2017 T.B. Morte aka Neylinn Foa-Vulpes

 

HEART IN A JAR

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Rest in pieces. ❤ Belleen

 

Heart In A Jar 09/27/2017

You killed me,

over and over,

Left me to die,

 

Or so you thought,

Was that your last wish?

To see me break?

How the mighty hath fallen,

Into the traps of emotion,

I loved you,

You loved me,

I hate thee,

You loathe me,

This game I cease to play,

To Whom It May Concern,

Know this for now and ever more,

This is my conscious no longer caged in bondage,

This is my spirit free from love’s torment,

You see before you what lies in the glass jar,

my ever beating heart.

©2017 T.B. Morte

 

 

 

 

 

 

CONFESSIONS OR DECLARATIONS….

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Sometimes inspiration comes from the most unexpected places.  And sometimes subject matter can be  in the past form it doesn’t always have to be in the “present”.  It can sometimes just be a situation you simply thought “What If?” and decided to write about it.  Today we hear from Tragedienne’s alter ego “Bobbie Jane” she doesn’t come out too often. She’s usually okay letting Trag running the show, but it doesn’t make what dear sweet Bobbie’s words less profound.

 

Confessions or Declarations 09/27/2017

I have a confession to make,

or is it a Declaration?

I haven’t made a decision,

It’s beguiling deviltry at its finest,

Seduction so refined,

I do it without blinking,

Can you forgive my fragile mind?

If this confession is so scattered,

I’ve had a variety of lovers,

Each left their mark,

Where shall we start?

And as you know all good stories,

They start off in the dark,

I met a little dragon,

he thought to be mighty,

Although he claimed,

I was his favorite maiden,

In the end he proved flighty,

Wishy washy isn’t my flavor,

So we needed something more,

Something more to savor,

I rendezvous with a Vampire,

his fangs enjoyed this nectar,

Although he had a undead bride,

his taste showed he enjoyed the living

flesh far more greater,

A demon kidnapped me to his lair,

and showed me whats underneath

his nether hair,

I found the power of the holy trinity between

my glistened thighs,

I saw god,

Praised Lucifer,

and now I’m here,

confessing these sexual crimes,

Forgive me Father for I have sinned,

Bless me Father for this declaration,

Expect soon most likely another confession.

©2017 T. B. Morte writing as “Bobbie Jane Claibourne”

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

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