Dusk's Poetry Dump

[The Cannibal]

So currently we're doing poetry in Creative Writing and so far I've written 13 different pieces (2 are revised since that's what we're required to do), but anyways I figured I would share them with you all! Plus, it's a good place to document them if I ever want to pull them up again because I'm always on here xD Anyways, here's my poetry!

Bad Company (Napkin poem) (Original)
Loud and pushing
Shouting and breaking,
Breaking the mood that I came here for.
Bad company is what they are.
No one asked for them,
I sure didn’t.
Always nagging and fighting for attention.
Bad company is what they are.
What are they anyways,
besides bad company?
The demons in my head.
They’re bad company.
They’re breaking me down,
pushing me to reach for that gun in my pocket,
I can’t stop them.
Those thoughts and voices in my head are bad company.
I can’t stop them,
they’re making me do something to all of those people that I’ll regret.
I am bad company.


Hands (Poem in traced hand)
Like a song,
my hand waves through the air.
It can play music,
and bring joy to people who love to listen.
It can make art and make people think of meaning.
Like a prompt, my hand can get people thinking,
thinking of the greater things life has to offer,
thinking of what they can offer,
it can get them thinking.






Day and Night (Erasure Poetry)

Allowing for the gallant sails,
her resting, pertinacious pursuit of day,
night unprecedented and invincible.
Simple observation will foretell time,
while progression desires shortly to return again,
but this pilot takes the precise bearing,
in order to compass hours of daylight when
darkness is the proverbial evanescence of all desired land.
The mighty iron, so familiarly known with his rate so hours will have reached to render the wind and the see becalmed.

The River (Simile/Cliché poem)

The river is like a dark house billowing smoke,
Like danger signs that block the road,
Like jagged bark.
The river is like a brick wall,
Like a Victorian lady with a frilly dress,
Like a family’s daughter on her deathbed.
The river is like a kidnapped woman,
Like a fly casting a shadow,
Like a plastic wrapped camera.
The river is like the blood on my hands

Headlines (Headline poem)
Iraqi agencies plot against revolution,
The tussle for offensive press,
New Lies for business revolution,
Dying Americans,
Picking stocks for mortality rates,
Americans doing nothing for infants,
No new help for revolution,
General Lies for Americans,
General Lies,
Lies,
Headlines.







Bone to Pick (Idiom poem) (Original)
You’re such a pain in the clock,
pound the weather to swallow the bitter pill.
Picking bones with wet blankets and
pushing the hatchet to work like a possum.
Why don’t you bury the crocodile tears
Punch the skin of your teeth and play the dog-eat-dog game.

Why don’t you
Swallow that bitter pill.
Because life
Has a bone
to pick
with
you.




F (Letter poem)

Coat rack.
A shelf cut diagonally.
A horizontal bar graph.
A city turned sideways.
Tall person and short person on a different plane.
A hand puppet about to speak.
Person sitting on their head.
Person cut in half while doing splits.





H (Letter poem)

Me sideways.
A handshake.
Rung of a ladder.
A fight.
Hannibal’s name.
A tombstone with no end.
What homicide starts with.
The beginning of eternal suffering.


Morning Star (Imitation Poem)

‘Twas midtime of summer
And noontide of night,
And pale, in their orbits,
Shone stars thro the night.
Of the darker, warm moon,
‘Mid slaves his planets,
Himself in hell,
His beam on the flames.
I gaze’d awhile
On his warm smile;
Too warm – Too warm for me -
There pass’d, as a cloud,
A fleecy shroud,
And I turned toward thee,
Dismal Morning Star,
In thy anguish afar,
And farther thy beam shall be;
For pain in my heart
Is the dismal part
Though bearest in Hell in morning,
And more I desire,
Thy distant fire,
Than that hotter, higher light.











Bone to Pick (Revised)
You’re such a pain in the clock,
pound the weather to swallow the bitter pill.
Picking bones with wet blankets and
pushing the hatchet to work like a possum.
You aren’t a blessing in disguise.
Your pictures aren’t worth A thousand words, but
A thousand flames.
All bark, all talk, no slap on the wrist.
You’re the dagger of my eye.
At the drop of a dead horse, you’re
Barking up the wrong bush.
Back to square three you play the devil’s advocate
Biting off more than you can crack up.
Always hiding, always driving me up the wall,
Making me foam at the mouth,
But you don’t care at all.
So why don’t you bury the crocodile tears
Punch the skin of your teeth and play the dog-
eat-dog game.
Why don’t you
Swallow that bitter pill.
Because life
Has a bone
to pick
with
you.






Bad Company (Revised)
Loud and pushing
Shouting and breaking,
Breaking the mood that I came here for.

Bad company is what they are.

No one asked for them,
I sure didn’t.
Always nagging and fighting for attention.

Bad company is what they are.

I came here for silence from them,
for silence from their screaming and demanding,
but nothing can stop their screaming till I give them what they want.

They’re bad company.

What are they anyways,
besides bad company?
They’re the voices in my head.

They’re bad company.

I’ve tried to get help to silence them,
tried to take medication to dull them,
but they won’t quite, they won’t shut up.

They’re bad company.

They’re breaking me down,
pushing me to reach for that gun in my pocket,
I can’t stop them.
Those thoughts and voices in my head are bad company.

I can’t stop them,
they’re making me do something to all of those people that I’ll regret.
Those thoughts and voices in my head are bad company.

The air echoes with the shots,
the screaming in my head is quiet and the screaming of the people take their place.

I am bad company.

[lilith]

what the heck dusk these are all amazing

[The Cannibal]

what the heck dusk these are all amazing
Really? I only like a few of them tbh xD

[lilith]

Really? I only like a few of them tbh xD
yeah really what the fudge nugget

[The Cannibal]

Oh yeah, and we had to make a children's book for Creative Writing and here's mine x3

The Angry Goat
There once was a very angry goat. He lived on a farm in Wales with all kinds of other animals, and a very nice old farmer.
The goat didn’t have a name; he was just known as the angry goat because he was never happy. He always had a frown or a grimace on his face and was always scaring away the
younger animals. The angry goat didn’t have any friends, but he didn’t really care; he didn’t like the other animals and he didn’t like the farmer. He didn’t like anything! (Page 1)
The angry goat would always stamp his hooves and let out a mighty bellow before charging at any animal that got too near, even doing this to the nice old farmer. And despite the goat’s attitude, the farmer would always get up early to feed him and clean his enclosure and make
sure he was in good health, never once questioning whether or not to take care of the goat. “Get away before I ram you!” he would always bleat, charging at the wooden fence around his enclosure when one of the ducklings got too close. (Page 2)
“I’ll trample you right over!” he would exclaim to the farm cat that would sit on top of the fence. “You best get back before I knock you on your rump!” the goat would warn to the mule that would hang near his enclosure, and to the farmer that fed him, and to all of the other animals that got too near. It was the same every day. The angry goat would snort and charge and bellow and grunt. The only time the other animals could get some peace from his anger was at night when
the goat went to sleep. (Page 3)
But one day something was different. One day the farmer wasn’t up at his usual time to feed the animals. In fact, the goat hadn’t seen him at all that morning and was pacing around restlessly, grumbling and rumbling about how hungry he was and about how terrible the farmer was for not being there on time.
“Where is that lousy farmer?” he bleated out, glaring around.
“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen him all morning!” neighed one of the horses.
“And neither have I!” honked one of the geese.
“He didn’t leave out a bowl of milk for me either!” meowed the cat. (Page 4)
All of the animals clamored over one another, discussing how none of them were tended by the farmer until one of the ducklings quacked out, “I-I saw him this morning! There was this na-nasty
old witch that took him away! The one that lives in that tower through the forest!” The duckling chirped out, flapping her fuzzy wings wildly.
All of the animals grew quiet for a moment before one of the other ducklings also chirped out, “She’s not lying! There was a flash of light like lightning and she was gone, and the farmer was gone with her!”
“Yeah, I saw it too!” said another of the ducklings. All of the animals immediately began to shout out their dismay; pacing, honking, neighing,
meowing, chirping and many other sounds filled the barnyard. (Page 5)
“Then who will take care of us?” shouted the goat out sourly, not seeming to care that the farmer was gone at all, but rather how he was going to get taken care of. All of the animals stopped their clamoring before starting up a nervous mumble about who would be taking over
the farm or if they would all be stuck there to starve. Grumbling out and ignoring the other animals, the angry goat simply began to chew on the
grass below his hooves, no longer caring about what was happening. (Page 6)
A couple of days passed before a strange new red truck pulled up to the farm and out stepped a man a lot younger than the old farmer who had cared for the farm. It was the old farmer’s son!
The rooster saw it first and loudly crowed to the other animals about his arrival, which started a curious murmur among the farm animals.
“Is this who will be taking care of us now?” neighed one of the horses.
“Will he get up as early as the old farmer?” honked one of the geese.
“Will he leave milk out for me when he wakes up?” meowed the cat. (Page 7)
All of the animals watched in curiosity as the man got out of his truck and went into the farmhouse, all of them wondering if he was going to get their food.
But the entire day passed and soon the sun was setting and not a single morsel of food was given to the animals and not a drip of water offered, and not even a bowl of milk for the cat.
Disappointed and upset, all of the animals settled down for slumber. (Page 8)
The goat stayed up for a while, glaring at the lighted window of the farmhouse, his nostrils flaring and breath puffing out. “What a terrible farmer!” he bleated out to himself. “The old
farmer always gave us food before the sun went down!” As angry as ever, the goat settled down for sleep.
The next day was a bit different, there was a little bit of food placed out for all of them, but it was sloppy and nasty and spilled on the ground and there was hardly enough water to last the
morning. And the farmer’s son was nowhere to be seen. (Page 9)
“This farmer is absolutely horrendous! The old farmer always stayed out here with us and talked to us!” cried out the goat in frustration; a lot of the other animals agreed with him and talked amongst themselves.
Over the course of an entire month, each day was the same. There was always little food and little water and the farmers’ son would never stay outside to talk with them or pet them or give them treats. Until one day, the goat finally cried out, “I can’t take this anymore, I want the old farmer back! We have to go and get him back from that
witch, we have to!” (Page 10)
All of the other animals looked at the goat in surprise, they never would have suspected the angry goat to say something like this. Out of all the animals, the goat had seemed to dislike the farmer the most! But slowly they all began to nod their heads.
“Yes we must go rescue the farmer!” neighed one of the horses.
“Someone will have to travel to the tower!” honked one of the geese.
“Who will take on such a dangerous mission?” meowed the cat. (Page 11)

All of the animals missed the farmer terribly, even the angry old goat and the cross old mule, and surprisingly enough those were the two that wanted the farmer to come back the most.
“I’ll go! I’ll save the farmer!” said the goat, stamping his hooves on the ground and aiming his horns at the door to his enclosure. The animals watched as he rammed the door right open, the wood splintering with the force, the goat looking around at all of the others. “But must I go alone?” (Page 12)
The other farm animals bowed their head and looked away, shifting uncomfortably, no one answering the goat for they were all scared of the journey that must be taken to get the farmer, and unsure if they wanted to take a journey with the angry goat at all.
Just when the goat was getting ready to head off, a raspy voice stopped him.
“I’ll go.” Turning his head, he saw the mule buck open the door to his own enclosure before ambling out to stand next to the goat. “I want the farmer back, I missed when he used to talk to me in the mornings.” The mule brayed to the goat with a half-smile. The angry goat nodded, surprised that any of the animals would join him.
“Alright, let’s go then.” (Page 13)
With that and without looking back, the goat and the donkey headed off for the dark forest that bordered the edge of the farm, the outline of a large stone tower in the distance.

Reaching the forest, the two companions paused, the mule looking over at the goat nervously. “Are you sure we want to do this?”
Without a pause the goat answered, “Of course! I know I wasn’t nice to him before, but... But he was the best thing that has happened to me. He’s been so nice, even when I rammed him, even when I threatened him, he never once gave up on me. So I can’t give up on him.”
The mule looked at the goat for a moment before nodding and looking to the forest. “Okay. Let’s go save the farmer.”
Slowly the two entered the dark, creepy forest. (Page 14)

As they made their way through the forest, they got really scared; every few feet a shadow moved or there was a rustling from the trees above, or the mule thought he saw a pair of eyes glaring at them. At one point they had to stop, the mule crying out that something touched his back.
“I can’t go on goat! I just can’t, we’ll never make it through this forest, the farmer is probably gone anyways!” he cried out.
“Now come on mule, you can’t say that! Of course we’ll get through the forest, we’ll make it to the tower and we’ll find the farmer! You can’t give up now!” pleaded the goat, but the mule was already leaving. (Page 15)
“I’m sorry goat, but I can’t go on.. You’ll have to go on alone. Good luck goat. I’ll tell the others how far you’ve made it.”
And moments later the mule was gone, leaving the angry goat all alone. Sighing out, the white furred goat turned his head back in the direction the tower was. He could do this! And so the goat went charging off into the forest. (Page 16)

A couple of hours later, the goat came stumbling out of the forest into a small clearing, a large stone tower rising above him with storm clouds gathered near the top, lightning flashing often.
“I’ve made it..” Whispered the goat as he looked up at it before his ears perked up as he heard a familiar voice.

“Help, help, somebody help! Get me out of here!” (Page 17)

It was the farmer! Gasping out, the goat charged into the tower and ran up the stairs until he reached the top floor and there he saw the farmer, trapped in a bird cage and the witch sitting in a sort of throne. Cackling out, the witch got off of her throne and said, “Why are you here? You don’t appreciate this farmer enough to want him back!” (Page 18)

Snorting, the goat stamped his hooves and shook his head. “You’re wrong! I do appreciate the farmer! I appreciate how early he gets up to feed us! How he always comes and talks to us in the morning! How he makes sure we’re well taken care of and not sick! I realize now how great of a farmer he truly is!” (Page 19)

“Oh really? Well it’s too late for you because I was just about to turn this farmer into a bird, so I can hear him sing all day!” The witch pulled out her wand and pointed it at the farmer in the bird cage, the tip of the stick beginning to glow. (Page 20)

“No!” Bleated out the goat, charging at the witch and charging right into her, throwing her right off the side of the balcony, lightning flashing and the witch screaming before it ended with a soft thud, the storm clouds clearing from around the tower. (Page 21)

“Goat.. You saved me...” The farmer said as the angry goat came over to the cage and bust it open with his horns.
“Of course I did farmer… I’m sorry I was so mean to you,” apologized the goat, looking away.
“Oh goat, it’s okay. Come on, let’s get back to the farm.” (Page 22)

With that the two made the long journey back to the farm and when they arrived, all of the animals cheered for the goat who simply trotted back to his enclosure with.. A smile. And so the farmer’s son went away and the old farmer came back and every animal on the farm was happy. And the angry goat wasn’t angry anymore. He was the happy goat. (Page 23)

THE END

[Officer Wolf]

Oh yeah, and we had to make a children's book for Creative Writing and here's mine x3

The Angry Goat
There once was a very angry goat. He lived on a farm in Wales with all kinds of other animals, and a very nice old farmer.
The goat didn’t have a name; he was just known as the angry goat because he was never happy. He always had a frown or a grimace on his face and was always scaring away the
younger animals. The angry goat didn’t have any friends, but he didn’t really care; he didn’t like the other animals and he didn’t like the farmer. He didn’t like anything! (Page 1)
The angry goat would always stamp his hooves and let out a mighty bellow before charging at any animal that got too near, even doing this to the nice old farmer. And despite the goat’s attitude, the farmer would always get up early to feed him and clean his enclosure and make
sure he was in good health, never once questioning whether or not to take care of the goat. “Get away before I ram you!” he would always bleat, charging at the wooden fence around his enclosure when one of the ducklings got too close. (Page 2)
“I’ll trample you right over!” he would exclaim to the farm cat that would sit on top of the fence. “You best get back before I knock you on your rump!” the goat would warn to the mule that would hang near his enclosure, and to the farmer that fed him, and to all of the other animals that got too near. It was the same every day. The angry goat would snort and charge and bellow and grunt. The only time the other animals could get some peace from his anger was at night when
the goat went to sleep. (Page 3)
But one day something was different. One day the farmer wasn’t up at his usual time to feed the animals. In fact, the goat hadn’t seen him at all that morning and was pacing around restlessly, grumbling and rumbling about how hungry he was and about how terrible the farmer was for not being there on time.
“Where is that lousy farmer?” he bleated out, glaring around.
“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen him all morning!” neighed one of the horses.
“And neither have I!” honked one of the geese.
“He didn’t leave out a bowl of milk for me either!” meowed the cat. (Page 4)
All of the animals clamored over one another, discussing how none of them were tended by the farmer until one of the ducklings quacked out, “I-I saw him this morning! There was this na-nasty
old witch that took him away! The one that lives in that tower through the forest!” The duckling chirped out, flapping her fuzzy wings wildly.
All of the animals grew quiet for a moment before one of the other ducklings also chirped out, “She’s not lying! There was a flash of light like lightning and she was gone, and the farmer was gone with her!”
“Yeah, I saw it too!” said another of the ducklings. All of the animals immediately began to shout out their dismay; pacing, honking, neighing,
meowing, chirping and many other sounds filled the barnyard. (Page 5)
“Then who will take care of us?” shouted the goat out sourly, not seeming to care that the farmer was gone at all, but rather how he was going to get taken care of. All of the animals stopped their clamoring before starting up a nervous mumble about who would be taking over
the farm or if they would all be stuck there to starve. Grumbling out and ignoring the other animals, the angry goat simply began to chew on the
grass below his hooves, no longer caring about what was happening. (Page 6)
A couple of days passed before a strange new red truck pulled up to the farm and out stepped a man a lot younger than the old farmer who had cared for the farm. It was the old farmer’s son!
The rooster saw it first and loudly crowed to the other animals about his arrival, which started a curious murmur among the farm animals.
“Is this who will be taking care of us now?” neighed one of the horses.
“Will he get up as early as the old farmer?” honked one of the geese.
“Will he leave milk out for me when he wakes up?” meowed the cat. (Page 7)
All of the animals watched in curiosity as the man got out of his truck and went into the farmhouse, all of them wondering if he was going to get their food.
But the entire day passed and soon the sun was setting and not a single morsel of food was given to the animals and not a drip of water offered, and not even a bowl of milk for the cat.
Disappointed and upset, all of the animals settled down for slumber. (Page 8)
The goat stayed up for a while, glaring at the lighted window of the farmhouse, his nostrils flaring and breath puffing out. “What a terrible farmer!” he bleated out to himself. “The old
farmer always gave us food before the sun went down!” As angry as ever, the goat settled down for sleep.
The next day was a bit different, there was a little bit of food placed out for all of them, but it was sloppy and nasty and spilled on the ground and there was hardly enough water to last the
morning. And the farmer’s son was nowhere to be seen. (Page 9)
“This farmer is absolutely horrendous! The old farmer always stayed out here with us and talked to us!” cried out the goat in frustration; a lot of the other animals agreed with him and talked amongst themselves.
Over the course of an entire month, each day was the same. There was always little food and little water and the farmers’ son would never stay outside to talk with them or pet them or give them treats. Until one day, the goat finally cried out, “I can’t take this anymore, I want the old farmer back! We have to go and get him back from that
witch, we have to!” (Page 10)
All of the other animals looked at the goat in surprise, they never would have suspected the angry goat to say something like this. Out of all the animals, the goat had seemed to dislike the farmer the most! But slowly they all began to nod their heads.
“Yes we must go rescue the farmer!” neighed one of the horses.
“Someone will have to travel to the tower!” honked one of the geese.
“Who will take on such a dangerous mission?” meowed the cat. (Page 11)

All of the animals missed the farmer terribly, even the angry old goat and the cross old mule, and surprisingly enough those were the two that wanted the farmer to come back the most.
“I’ll go! I’ll save the farmer!” said the goat, stamping his hooves on the ground and aiming his horns at the door to his enclosure. The animals watched as he rammed the door right open, the wood splintering with the force, the goat looking around at all of the others. “But must I go alone?” (Page 12)
The other farm animals bowed their head and looked away, shifting uncomfortably, no one answering the goat for they were all scared of the journey that must be taken to get the farmer, and unsure if they wanted to take a journey with the angry goat at all.
Just when the goat was getting ready to head off, a raspy voice stopped him.
“I’ll go.” Turning his head, he saw the mule buck open the door to his own enclosure before ambling out to stand next to the goat. “I want the farmer back, I missed when he used to talk to me in the mornings.” The mule brayed to the goat with a half-smile. The angry goat nodded, surprised that any of the animals would join him.
“Alright, let’s go then.” (Page 13)
With that and without looking back, the goat and the donkey headed off for the dark forest that bordered the edge of the farm, the outline of a large stone tower in the distance.

Reaching the forest, the two companions paused, the mule looking over at the goat nervously. “Are you sure we want to do this?”
Without a pause the goat answered, “Of course! I know I wasn’t nice to him before, but... But he was the best thing that has happened to me. He’s been so nice, even when I rammed him, even when I threatened him, he never once gave up on me. So I can’t give up on him.”
The mule looked at the goat for a moment before nodding and looking to the forest. “Okay. Let’s go save the farmer.”
Slowly the two entered the dark, creepy forest. (Page 14)

As they made their way through the forest, they got really scared; every few feet a shadow moved or there was a rustling from the trees above, or the mule thought he saw a pair of eyes glaring at them. At one point they had to stop, the mule crying out that something touched his back.
“I can’t go on goat! I just can’t, we’ll never make it through this forest, the farmer is probably gone anyways!” he cried out.
“Now come on mule, you can’t say that! Of course we’ll get through the forest, we’ll make it to the tower and we’ll find the farmer! You can’t give up now!” pleaded the goat, but the mule was already leaving. (Page 15)
“I’m sorry goat, but I can’t go on.. You’ll have to go on alone. Good luck goat. I’ll tell the others how far you’ve made it.”
And moments later the mule was gone, leaving the angry goat all alone. Sighing out, the white furred goat turned his head back in the direction the tower was. He could do this! And so the goat went charging off into the forest. (Page 16)

A couple of hours later, the goat came stumbling out of the forest into a small clearing, a large stone tower rising above him with storm clouds gathered near the top, lightning flashing often.
“I’ve made it..” Whispered the goat as he looked up at it before his ears perked up as he heard a familiar voice.

“Help, help, somebody help! Get me out of here!” (Page 17)

It was the farmer! Gasping out, the goat charged into the tower and ran up the stairs until he reached the top floor and there he saw the farmer, trapped in a bird cage and the witch sitting in a sort of throne. Cackling out, the witch got off of her throne and said, “Why are you here? You don’t appreciate this farmer enough to want him back!” (Page 18)

Snorting, the goat stamped his hooves and shook his head. “You’re wrong! I do appreciate the farmer! I appreciate how early he gets up to feed us! How he always comes and talks to us in the morning! How he makes sure we’re well taken care of and not sick! I realize now how great of a farmer he truly is!” (Page 19)

“Oh really? Well it’s too late for you because I was just about to turn this farmer into a bird, so I can hear him sing all day!” The witch pulled out her wand and pointed it at the farmer in the bird cage, the tip of the stick beginning to glow. (Page 20)

“No!” Bleated out the goat, charging at the witch and charging right into her, throwing her right off the side of the balcony, lightning flashing and the witch screaming before it ended with a soft thud, the storm clouds clearing from around the tower. (Page 21)

“Goat.. You saved me...” The farmer said as the angry goat came over to the cage and bust it open with his horns.
“Of course I did farmer… I’m sorry I was so mean to you,” apologized the goat, looking away.
“Oh goat, it’s okay. Come on, let’s get back to the farm.” (Page 22)

With that the two made the long journey back to the farm and when they arrived, all of the animals cheered for the goat who simply trotted back to his enclosure with.. A smile. And so the farmer’s son went away and the old farmer came back and every animal on the farm was happy. And the angry goat wasn’t angry anymore. He was the happy goat. (Page 23)

THE END
This and the poems are amazing! I write poems as well, but not even close to how well you do it. Keep up the good work, comrade!

[The Cannibal]

This and the poems are amazing! I write poems as well, but not even close to how well you do it. Keep up the good work, comrade!
Omg thank you so much! ;0; I appreciate the kind words!!

[dino.]

Good job Dusk! You're amazing at this! Keep it up and I love your work!

[The Cannibal]

Alrighty so I have two more poems, these two I decided to directly relate to my character in Bad Company, and I'm thinking he'll become one of my main characters when we get to short stories and stuff, but anyways, here they are!

Safe Place
We’ve been meeting for a year now,
he’s a very troubled man.
Very confused.
And very violent.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing,
and he doesn’t know how to stop it.
We’ve been coming up with tricks,
to help him deal with it.
I think it’s working, he’s been seeing me less and less,
maybe he’s finally figured out what to do.
He said there was a diner he likes to go to,
every day.
He tells me the music helps him calm down,
and usually his head remains quiet there.
It’s a good sign for someone like him,
it means he’s found a safe place.
He’s found a cure for that illness,
music.
I sit at my desk,
Reviewing my patients notes.
I hear a report on the radio,
there’s been a shooting at a diner.




Sorry
His smile is cracked and crooked
Yellow and grimy.
The motion is empty and meaningless
Without pity.
Those dry and thin lips utter one word,
Sorry.
Just like his smile, the words are
Meaningless and empty.
He came to the diner often and
sat quietly.
Coming here simply,
to listen to the music.
The music has stopped now,
and he looks troubled.
That smile sprouts after minutes,
of what appears to be an internal battle.
He looked to be in pain,
but now he just utters,
Sorry.
His gun glints, the smile quivering,
seeming as if he’s struggling within himself.
But as his finger graces the trigger,
the smile drops and a few tears fall
lightly.
He knew what he was doing,
but all he could say was,
Sorry.

[The Cannibal]

Our most recent unit in creative writing class is Flash Fiction, so far, here are all of my Flash Fiction pieces, keep in mind that Flash Fiction can be anywhere from 1-500 words or so.

Significance
The boy sat alone in his room, twirling his pen when the sound of a train blared. It was his time.

Compassion
Compassion is not something I feel when blade meets skin.

Advantage
Head busted against car, vision blurry, a grin sprawled across his lip as he flicked out the blade and lunged.

Unexpected turn of events
Feet pounding the ground, tears streaming down cheeks, I grinned and we stopped. Turning around and transforming. No longer chased, but chasing.

Warning
"Get lost!" I screamed in warning. He didn't know about the creature behind him. I secretly grinned.

Yard Sale
An ancient god of torture restored but trapped. Eyes forever open and staring, body still but full of life, forever waiting.
Doll for sale.

Dahmer
I was captured seven minutes before dawn. I was drunk and I slipped up, let one get away and well, here we are. Shouldn't have been drinking, should have killed him and disposed of him and then got drunk. I'll just plead insanity.

Glorified Jail
They liked to call it the Pentagon, but it was just a crowded jail, though it made us feel better. It was a little better than an ordinary jail though, we had windows, stalls around our toilets, and privacy. The Pentagon was my home, I've been there for years, my time is done, but I stay here for my own entertainment. For a jail, it's really not that bad, you never see fights, most of the time we're either reading a book, or lifting weights from the first light of day, to the last trace of night. There's many people here always bustling and working and our work in this jail is far from light weight. We shape this country. This is the Pentagon.

My Number
My number, it is a 9.
I am the best of all of my people and I like it that way.
but today, something happened.
My number, after surgery, it is now a 0.
All because I killed a man and accidentally sliced my arm open, nearly off.
How dare he do this to me.

Paralysis
Born out of clay and cloth, made to cure his loneliness, I loved him. But I could not move.

I have more, I'll post them later, hope yall enjoy!

[The Cannibal]

Alright, here's the rest of the Flash Fiction I have written so far, enjoy!

Tantalizing Dance
The music moves.

Apocalypse
Crowded in a room, we pray.

Causing Mayhem
Their tents lined the road no longer, because I burned them.

Odd Ball
I sit alone in the kitchen eating. I am not them.

The Need for Help
I am the stranger in class. The other kids don't like me because I talk to myself.

Words as Swords
Our words are weapons, we are soldiers of the mouth. Together we are an army. Alone I am a poet.

Funny
They thought it was funny to call me pony boy. They didn't know that I actually ate people.

Cover-Up
Rain poured. Washed away tracks. Washed away blood. Washed away evidence. Washed away me.

Keeping Me Sane
I listened to the jukebox everyday. It kept my calm.
One day, the jukebox didn't play.
Blood everywhere.

Innocence Drowned
I shoved his head in the fountain till he stopped squirming. They don't call me innocent no more.

Traitor
They didn't know I wasn't one of them.
Not until my gun glinted in the light and I grinned.

[The Cannibal]

More Flash Fiction!

Opponent=Self
Who is your opponent? They don't exist. Why don't they exist? Because they're in my head. Why are they in your head? I'm schizophrenic.

Taking the Mind
Keep the body, take the mind. That's what I do, I keep the body and take the mind. I sit there in my office and I talk away, taking the volatile mind out of the innocent body. Your mind spills its contents to me and I take them, for this is all to help you. You come back to me weekly because you need this and society needs this, this is my job. Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes I can finish on the first day, it depends how quickly your mind reveals itself. And what am I? I'm your psychiatrist.

Obedience
The fire raged around me, trapping me in the furnace that was my house. I sat there because I was told to. Obedience is everything, that's what they told me.

Society's Desire for an Open Book
I go to a secret meeting, a secret meeting that no one but me and them know about. No one notices, making it even more secret. Well no, I've only told one person about it, he's trying to stop me from going. And he tells me that's what society wants.

[The Cannibal]

The poem I wrote for my creative writing midterm!

A Cricket's Audience
She sat alone on the bus,
the bus wasn't moving and no one was there,
but she remained seated.
The chairs were rotting,
and the grass crept between the cracks,
like a nervous tenant returning to its rightful home.
A paper was placed in her lap,
her head turned down as if
reading it.
There was no driver,
There were no passengers,
just her, sitting alone.
The only music here,
was the gentle chirping
of the crickets.
The crickets were musicians
and she was their audience,
allowing them to play in the echoing silence.
A gentle breeze caused the edge of the paper to ruffle,
but she paid no notice.
She didn't notice much of anything anymore,
nothing but the crickets song,
and the paper she stared at.
Though she's been staring for much too long,
you'd think after years of staring, someone would notice.
Years of being missing
that someone would find her.
And so she sat there, waiting for eternity,
waiting for someone to find her
there.

[The Cannibal]

This is a request for fire ♡
I hope you like how it turned out!

My Servitude
Brothers and sisters beside me, as cohesive and sound as one beast.
We work together in one fluid motion to slice through the air,
Like the softest knife that could both end one's life or save it from death.
We are rooted at the base together, part of a greater being that we
Cannot understand, but I don't need to.
At the beast's inclination I do my job and press against the howling air to send it where it desires, just like my siblings beside me.
But no. Not now.
I'm becoming detached, the wind tugging at me and pulling me from my base.
I still do as the beast desires but suddenly I can't.
I am a toy of the wind as the beast soars on with my brothers and sisters still serving it.
I do the winds bidding now as it twirls me and tugs me, sending me fluttering one way, then the next.
The suns rays sparkle against my white sheen as I make my gentle descent to the ground.
My journey is long lived, it seeming like an eternity before my new master eventually pulls me to the earth.
And there I settle, still feeling the gentle tug of the wind, but now I wait.
I cannot do anything because I am without my siblings.
I cannot do anything because I.
Am just a feather.

[meraki]

Duskflight
oh my goodness this is beautiful! thank you sososososo much <3

[The Cannibal]

Duskflight
oh my goodness this is beautiful! thank you sososososo much <3
No problem!! So glad that you liked it!

[meraki]

No problem!! So glad that you liked it!

ahhhh thanks so much again- you've a real talent.

[The Cannibal]

ahhhh thanks so much again- you've a real talent.
Awww you're too kind, but thank you!! ;0;

[The Cannibal]

Here's my Winter Contest submission, I'd like some feedback on this one so that maybe I can get better at writing stories, I'm not too good at them at the moment x.x"
Sonnet's Inferno (http://fannibal-horroradict.deviantart.com/journal/Sonnet-s-Inferno-663027234)

[The Cannibal]

vos

Waiting for the Dying of the Light
The last portion of sun pours out its vital blood unto me,
Painting me a vibrant yet insidious color that is reminiscent of something more sinister than just light.
That sparkling glow that was here during the day starts to die down,
Later to be replaced with a much duller, yet subtly beautiful glimmer.
But currently I am trapped between the dazzling beauty of the day,
And the subtle attractiveness of night.
My cold grip on the land will be replenished soon,
But now I am stuck in a purgatory of almost melting,
Yet hanging on,
Soon to be strengthened by my thicker brother who mends my melted parts.
But I must wait,
Until the last rays have died,
And the pearly glimmer of the moon has risen.
Only then can my brother begin his work.
I must wait.
My brother will be here soon,
But until my pure white is stained by red no longer,
I must wait.

[The Cannibal]

Agnate

Aside from Lecturing the Rude
The lanky man in a person suite sat there,
Peacefully looking at a beautiful Renaissance painting by Massacio,
Those maroon colored eyes of his traveling slowly from every little detail there was to collect from the piece,
Studying them carefully as if he could reconstruct it simply with his mind.
Delving into the meaning that this piece was trying to convey as the gentle melody of the background helped to add a nice ambiance to the setting.
Sitting here and evaluating the work was nearly as enjoyable as listening to the opera shows he goes to see on occasion, or the dinner parties that he hosts.
The finer things in life are what he seeks,
He will not deny his desires and will not subject himself to anything less than prestigious.
It was his nature to desire the finer things in life,
And never in his life has he denied his basic nature.
So as he, the prestigious psychiatrist, sat there, evaluating and thoroughly enjoying the artwork,
Deep down in his mind,
He thought about who he would have for dinner tonight.

[The Cannibal]

Mountain View

The clouds roll by, threatening the world with precipitation of fire
The blackened grass whispers stories of a world before word
But really, that is the world that is now.
A prosperous world of great invention,
But this is not that world anymore.
Now it is a world of

Fire and smog, a world of desperate survival.
No longer is there hope for water in this world,
But a desperate hope for redemption worldwide.
There are no more voices in this world, besides the quiet mutterings of the plants.
They were the only ones to know the truth that would dismantle this word,
That and the mountains of the past world.

Their rumblings are the only voices that fall upon this forsaken land.
A land no longer remembered,
A land no longer spoken of,
A land we used to call home.
I am the only one to tell of this story, staring down at the land from my home in the sky.

They didn't believe me when I spoke of the mountains' whispers.
They didn't believe me when I spoke of the truth given to me.
They didn't believe that this could happen.
They didn't believe me.

So now they are left, clinging for hope.
Hope in the hostility of our past land.
Hope in the malevolent world we called home.
Hope that we can fix what went wrong so long ago.

It may come in small quantities, but there is hope.
There in the mountainside,
There is hope.

[The Cannibal]

The fantasy story I'm currently working on in creative writing class <3
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pPJ2kRoqBT94wcb1oIslcXS1eI8Z-Lty305qPd8r25M/edit?usp=sharing

[The Cannibal]

Jeez it's been a minute since I've posted anything in here! I need to work on my poetry, so how about some requests? ;0