Crystal ball, thy spirit.
Cast thee a mighty spell.
Vision sacred, let's hear it.
Voice of mine, pell-mell.
Tress and trawler, set thy hooks.
River bed to dredge.
Recipes we learned in books?
Formation, wild wedge.
Coal, control, bell toll, sail, soul.
Down the delta wide.
Wasteland, when you set a goal.
Woe, when you betide.
Chicken farm, thy tender.
Politics, tough thy game.
Doubtless, O defender.
Katabothron, quay, claim.
Current, channel. Atmosphere.
Particles, spread out.
Cloud cover, sere or severe?
Cannibal, red rout!
Trickle, stickleback. Code crack.
Fortresses, thy stack.
Under attack? Dinner pack.
Flak ahead? Shellac.
Yawndrift, yucca, yellow eyes.
Oceanic rift.
Circumspect the council's cries?
Petrify, wood. Gift.
Bank, holding of money.
Tornado, spinning fast.
Clown, well, life is funny.
Mead honey, my good ghast?
The Small Print of the Black Mass
To steal the power from the newly dead,
Through blackened magic where the demons tread,
You beckon the spirit from the darkest plane,
And feast on the flesh to assume its reign.
From the dirt of the grave, the monsters shout:
"Feed me! Feed me!" as the lights go out.
The flesh turns to liquid, it slithers right down,
To grant you the strength of a forbidden crown.
But a consumed spirit will fight to be free,
Unless you can bind it where no one can see.
So you drag the ghost to the deepest abyss,
And curse it with crimes in the dark's prejudice.
You lock it away in a chamber of screams,
To rot in the static of shattered dreams.
Yet the path to this knowledge is steep and unkind:
You must enter hell's back door and lock it behind.
You hide the key in a desolate place,
And pray that a righteous hand leaves no trace.
For the Book of Sin doesn't offer a lie
The small print catches the arrogant eye:
The contract is absolute, heavy, and cold,
A willing soul, and a payment in gold.
Or a pillar of salt you will turn.
Every law enforcement official out on patrol,
was desperate to capture The Vegan Cannibal,
so named from a note left with one of its victims,
leading to a series of murders that terrified every vegan.
It read, "I am a cannibal who does my best to eat healthy,
and vegans are the healthiest of all my desired meat.
Only a true vegan will yours truly eat.
Nothing artificial, no preservatives, mostly fresh food they consume.
Vegans are the healthiest and tastiest meat I have ever known,
so bid all of your vegan associates a hearty farewell,
should they cross paths with yours truly, The Vegan Cannibal."
The Vegan Cannibal was never apprehended, but its reign ceased,
when the vegans began consuming mass quantities of junk food and meat.
I dream to be Hannibal
But my neighbor Cannibal…
Hannibal might be A Failure
But he`d owned some Tense Tenure:
A Nightmare to Tough Roman,
Some shaking like A Woman…
I long to be Hannibal
But a good friend, Cannibal,
This trusting for Strange Riches;
His night visits to Witches?
But how would it taste: The flesh?
And - tell us - how would it sound,
When the teeth some flesh closed round?
Are virgin Cannibals still chaste:
I mean one that did flesh taste?
The stuff chewing into paste
Don`t they their chances waste?
Not soul alone they defile,
God, for them, opens Bad File…
slave to a cycle of lies
held on so hard i'm paralyzed
living a life as a book already written
the end is here next to the beginning
blood and tears all in my dreams
sweat a little so they know it's me
the feeling of void is familiar
i crossed the world with a dare from a demon
mimic what i see as beauty
plagiarize what i see as art
be so bright that i am not like
a black hole and more like a star
influenced in a evil system
i am the cages inside a prison
i cant look beyond and see through the smoke
a guide is useless if it's at the end of the road
so i was doomed from the beginning
they sat the trap while i was winning
fell so far that i was like
a cold comet passing through the sky
An Animal Tangible with a Cannibal
knew an animal
we think can be tangible
with a cannibal
what we said out loud
about things are always proud
to God have head bowed
heard that a bunch of
Indians who are half assed
were called semi holes
have called home a lodge
ran over in my garage
now need a massage
say it enough times
everyone will believe it
so say it again
Words will flood like torrents raging,
Deep immersed in waters wild;
Languishing in languages
Of liquid pools of prose,
Each time a laughing mannequin
Would somehow dare suppose.
They walk along with voice on leash,
Leading the park with cannibalistic eyes,
Bending over benches waiting,
For the next remark.
Together sharing repartee
For all they may experience
Between their cups of tea.
And when the tea is gone
And day is done
They read each other's tea leaves
Just for fun.
And words will flood like torrents raging
Deep immersed in waters wild,
Bragging their experience;
Their late night, early morning laughter
Left uncaging.
They will stop with you,
Exchanging dreams,
Amidst the clattering of the glasses;
Voice unpacked, and weakly fumbling,
For their answers;
Never knowing that the question
May go yet unasked,
And they be left at shallows end,
Naked and unmasked.
And words will flood like torrents raging
Deep immersed in waters wild.
Sulfuric acid
Contact lenses blinded
As my eye see it's not
Pupils dilated as my spinal cord
Begins to rot
Skeletal remains where is my brains I haven't been chopped
Gordon Ramsay reminds me what's all the fussing and yelling about
Is it problematic would it be ever so this plan on it Disciplinarian
Vegetarian
and where are the way ward zombies
They want to kill and eat me this is the apocalypse
Where's my face and who stole my lips
Nevermore ravished
I can no longer kiss
Cannibal common human toast remains
zombies eating every part of me even my brains
This is the death
My last breath
The Horror Story
It's so boring
And gory I travail
I relish
I am just
Decayed flesh
Served on top-of a hay stack
Where is the ketchup in the mustard
Shed no grief for me
They dun are my feet
Make it so squiggly Wiggly screaming" where's the beef"
4/26/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2021
Foreword: we’re all aware of the ’pot ate oh’ and ‘pert arter’ debate... well, in some English accents (including my own) there is a third version: ‘per tay ter’. I lean toward this pronunciation in this poem... So please don’t throw stones... or pertarters.
Two cannibals went hunting humans one day
Hoping a decent meal might come their way
They came to a beach and there was a boat
A skin and bone man said, ‘I’m six weeks afloat’
Because he was boney with so little muscle
They skewered that sailor with barely a tussle
A fire they lit and then over it
They perched our survivor like meat on a spit
One cannibal said he was off to find wood
You keep him turning to cook him real good
And then in an hour he stood there aghast
He’d never seen anyone turn meat so fast
His mate was rotating the spit roast like crazy
His victim’s arms flailing so fast they were hazy
The other one said turn it slow or be sure
That damned skinny human is gonna be raw
Well, the cannibal cook said with undisguised ire
I’m having to spin him fast over the fire.
So he won’t be cooked till quite a lot later
’cause each revolution he nicks a potater
Blood to heaven and blood on the post.
Severed builder's head in the oven.
Slowly cooking to a succulent roast.
Enraptured by the local witches coven.
What happens now is anyone's guess.
His body wanders angrily wanting a job.
Will he communicate with Rudolf Hess?
And delicately turn into a door knob.
Then fly high like a dodo on a rocket.
Singed **** feathers are worth the risk.
When signing the crooked wage docket.
Soon it's time to meet the alien's flying disc.
With nightmares of gaining a new head.
To become a female and wear a blouse.
Stopping only when men take him to bed.
Ending up in your grandmother's house.
Being Normal Is Boring - Broken Aeroplanes, Screwed People, Alternative Writing,:)
Jimmy Boom Semtex
The narcissistic eye ogles itself in the glass;
Which egoistic orgy well paints Man's greed.
His self-elevating smiles mirrors easily prove
As crude hungers only selfish deeds can feed.
And so do you still continue to wonder why
Conceited doctors thrive while patients die.
You know the inscrutable reason lawyers grin,
All the way to the bank as grimey outlaws win.
The grim riders who usurp others' right of way
Typify paedophiles who maul wee infant souls.
And barbarian cops firing shots at calm folks,
Subtly tell the cold despot's vainglorious goal.
Do not look far to behold villainous monsters
Who top filthy lists of most-wanted gangsters,
When you daily spot many self-serving priests
With Bible-like Kalashnikovs and soiling wrists.
In our most common dispositions you'll note,
Ugly human gluttonies of every cannibal sort.
A breakfast of sunrise,
clear blue sky luncheon,
and a supper of sunset
defeats darkness rising.
Shadows remain behind,
lying down buries their existence.
Total darkness is a cannibal
that feed on lighter shade shadows.
Coco the clown went sailing one day
to a holiday destination far far away
Suddenly, the sky went dark and the wind did blow
and the waves beneath his boat did grow and grow
Coco lost his oars as the winds blew and blew
and he paddled his way with a size 50 shoe
Through his telescope he saw an island far away in the distance
and he made it to shore with his skill and persistence
A group of locals met him as he sailed onto land
with necklace of bones and spears in hands
They carried off Coco to a waiting stock pot
with vegetables and seasoning and water boiling hot
Poor Coco the clown was simmered to perfection
they shared out the meat after careful dissection
They sat down to dine and after having a chew
one said to the other “does this clown taste funny to you?”
American Daughters of the Civil War Revolution
are so madly in love with their Bluish-Gray metal sons
Incestuous desires borne of slave tax oppression
Give to Caesar whatever tribute he crown heavy lay on you,
feed three-fifth portions to the hungry publican lions
Let the Den Mother Lying famine devour your children too
Cannibalize every ink spot known self-evident truth,
marginalize any constitutional chains inhibiting your ravenous lust
Another seething pot of baby bones is the Baal proof
Give to Pharaoh whatever gut pyramid schemes he Isis dream,
feed you quarterly lies from the war widow collection plate
The Wall Street church in tea need of another gun barrel beam
Amerikan Sons of the Ruble Con Bolshevik Revolution,
so gluttonly love their daughters’ leather fetish for the holster
Homicidal desires borne of suicidal plantation depression
Animal and Cannibal
Fine print read for me was bad,
Which is why I am fighting mad;
Husband who is my favorite pet,
Could not in my room ever let.
Animal in me he did bring out,
Wondering what it was about;
Gifts for me started supplying,
So ate his love up like a lion.
If you could have been a cannibal,
Would eat both human and animal;
Meat of the moment he did meet;
Had eaten all except smelly feet.
Jim Horn
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