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

 

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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 DARK DOLLY

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A toast good populace! Cheers to Tragedienne may she one day find the dark solitude of happiness.  She so rightfully deserves.

 

YOUR DARK DOLLY

Admit to me my master,

Who’s your darkest dolly?

You need not to say it to others,

you need not to say it out loud,

I’m your dark dolly,

I do what the others cannot,

you know I go that extra mile,

I give it my all,

When the whip strikes flesh,

You know I squeal in pleasure,

And give it my best,

So I apologize to you Master,

Please excuse my mess,

But the other dollies had to go,

So I made them say goodbye,

And I now I have these piles of bodies,

Your dolly just now wants to cry,

We’re all alone now Master,

Don’t you see?

It’s just you and me,

And there’s no one else around,

To make three.

© T.B. Morte 2017

 

 

 

ONLY YOU

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The “Bone Mother” is returning. Slowly. Letting the bindings unwrap themselves. Enjoy.

 

ONLY YOU 09/17/2017

You.

That’s right.

You.

Not me.

Not us.

There was never us.

You said loved me,

All my wild evil,

My imperfections,

I was the perfect flower,

In your imperfect world,

Is that what you tell all the flowers?

That are not good enough,

It never is,

Nor was it ever was,

The mask has been lifted,

I see with perfect clarity,

But do you see?

What you have done to me?

Confirmed what was already known,

So thanks to you,

And your ilk,

These walls will be built stronger,

Impenetrable,

My heart encased in the strongest glass,

So my thanks,

My gratitude you have,

But you shall pay a cost,

Nothing is ever free,

You pay a high cost,

Your cost was forever  losing me.

©2017 T.B.Morte

 

 

 

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

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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