Symphony of Evil

Out of fettle, out of line

Out of metal, out of time

Sympathy unequal

Symphony of evil

Skeletons play their violins with bloody blades

Zombie-ogres beat tympanis with bloodlust rage

Ghosts play their flutes with their dying breaths

Gorgons play xylophones on ribs and chests

Warlocks bang cymbals over screaming heads

Necromantic conductor commands the undead

Mausoleum is the arena for this musical night

Audience to the left and demons to the right

Out of hell, they will climb

Out of spells, more they’ll find

History of sequels

Symphony of evil

The sirens sing their ear-splitting stories

Of tempted fools meeting ends so gory

Of greedy bastards who wanted more

Of rich politicians who waged the wars

Symphony of evil guided their words

Sleeping souls suffer hellfire burns

Let’s party like it’s whatever BC

Sell the whole thing on ten CD’s

Out of death, they rise again

Out of breath, though not the end

Misery of steeples

Symphony of evil

Did you enjoy your night of music?

Get Pinot Noir on your favorite tunic?

Choke on popcorn until you passed out?

Expecting a pop sensation cash cow?

You’ll have your own violin in due time

You’ll have your own lyrics to rhyme

You can join the symphony of evil

Sorry for the lack of heavenly appeal

We Own the Night

***WE OWN THE NIGHT***

Zombie brain happens to everybody no matter how good they are at hiding it. Sometimes your brain is so exhausted that you don’t feel like doing shit that day. You’ve overworked yourself the previous day, you’re stressed out, you didn’t sleep well, whatever the case may be, you’re not immune. It’s especially frustrating when you’re scrolling for memes on Face Book and see one that says, “You should be writing!” Yes, I understand that it’s meant to be motivating, but sometimes it can feel like a slap in the face to someone having a zombie brain day.

The operative word in that last sentence is “day”. You can go through the whole day snoozing and lazing about, but when the stars and moon light up the night sky, you own that motherfucker. You’ve gotten nothing done during the daytime, but it’s not too late to get shit done in the darkest hours of the night. All you need to tell yourself is…”We own the night!” Whether you’re getting shit done at 10:30, midnight, or 3:00 in the morning, you’re telling your zombie brain to go fuck itself and you’re defying the odds. And then when you wake up the next day, you can do it with a smile knowing the previous night’s darkness brought out the beast within you. You’re an artistic werewolf. You’re a vampire thirsting for the blood of your characters. And it feels soooooo fucking good!

Sometimes when I’m lying awake at night, lyrics for a song idea will come to me. And then the clock strikes two in the morning and I disconnect my oxygen mask to go write those lyrics down. That same night, those lyrics are live on my social media account and I go to bed a happy man. It’s better to lose a few hours of sleep if it means you’ll remember how your story or poem is going to be written. When you wake up in the morning, it could all disappear and the world will never know.

I tell you this personal story not to brag, but to let my audience know that owning the night can be done. If Donald Dumbass can tweet insensitive shit at three in the fucking morning, you can write something better around the same time at night. If you’ve spent the whole day being mentally fried, your energy could potentially come back to you by the time darkness falls. Everybody else in the house is snoozing soundly, so you have no distractions. It’s just you and your limitless imagination. And once you’ve finished, you can drift off into cloudland and have weird ass dreams about being naked in high school…or is that just me?

I hope I don’t sound too much like those Face Book memes that shame people for not writing. If you must tuck yourself in after a long day of zombie brain, you most certainly can do that. If you don’t own the night, you can certainly own the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. And so on and so forth. But there will be some days where you don’t feel like doing a goddamn thing, and that’s okay, because we’re all human beings. Zombie brain is a universal problem no matter how much people brag about being hard workers. Sometimes zombie brain is your mind and body’s way of telling you to slow the fuck down. Even Vin Diesel in the Fast & Furious movies has to know when to slow his driving down. Why do you think there are so goddamn many of those movies to begin with?

Do you own the night or are you a daywalker? Does your current schedule allow you the kind of creativity you want to produce? Always make time for what you dream of doing…even if that time is seven minutes past Zombie O’clock. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***POISON TONGUE TALES 2 & DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

I’m sure you’ve all noticed that I have drawings on my social media accounts of Ronan Crow and Kain Venomtongue. That’s because those two are a major part of my next Poison Tongue Tales 2 story. It’s called “Dark Marriage” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Kain Venomtongue, Elf Warlock
2. Ronan Crow, Bird Swordsman
3. Sheryl Sweet, Human Bride
4. Nameless Snake Minions

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: Kain is at the top of his ziggurat getting ready to forcibly marry Sheryl through a necromantic ritual. The Dark Marriage will give Kain authoritative and magical powers since Sheryl is the daughter of a powerful wizard king. Sheryl is bound to a crucifix with a ball gag in her mouth while the snake minions line up on either side of the ziggurat’s stairs. Ronan has been charged with the task of rescuing Sheryl before the ritual is allowed to take place. He has little time to complete his mission and a small army of opponents to battle through.

EXTRA NOTE: Sheryl Sweet is next on the chopping block for the Dark Fantasy Warriors series. I’ve been debating with myself if I want to draw her while she’s strapped to the crucifix. Imagine the kind of reference picture I’d have to search for on Google to get that effect. It would be…weird to say the least. Hehe!

***BORN A CRIME***

I’m sure you guys have also seen reviews on my social media accounts of Kick-Ass 3 and Fang and Claw, two badass books that have earned passing grades. I expect my next reading adventure, Born a Crime by Trevor Noah, to be enjoyable as well. How can you go wrong with Trevor Noah? He’s the host of the Daily Show for a reason: because he’s funny and eye-opening at the same time. Born a Crime is a memoir detailing his childhood in apartheid-era South Africa. The book was originally a Mother’s Day present for my mom and she loved it to pieces. Now she’s given it back to me so that I can have the same educational experience as she did.

***PHONE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

ME: Hello?

MOM: Is this the person to whom I’m speaking?

ME: Who else would it be?

MOM: Good answer, Garrison!

"Headstones and Dead Bodies" by Marie Krepps

BOOK TITLE: Headstones and Dead Bodies

AUTHOR: Marie Krepps

YEAR: 2016

GENRE: Fictional Short Stories

SUBGENRE: Horror

GRADE: Pass

In these two nightmare-inducing short stories, you get just that: headstones and dead bodies. “My Last Dare” is the tale of a group of friends who dare the narrator to visit a haunted graveyard and stab the sacred ground with a ballpoint pen to prove his stay. “Coffins” deals with the painstaking and vomit-worthy process of emptying baggies of money from a sewn up cadaver’s insides. After reading these stories, your traumatized mind will crave relief of any sort whether it’s one-on-one therapy or a gigantic bottle of Xanax. Do you dare put your soul through this kind of literary torture? It’s okay if you’re going to be a chicken about it, but such tasty birds get devoured on a daily basis by razor-sharp mouths. In Marie Krepps’ sick and twisted world, nobody is safe, not even the reader.

“My Last Dare” had the realistic feeling of being small-town teenagers who are so bored that they dare each other to do stupid things. I’ve lived in my fair share of small towns, so I know how taxing boredom can be to the human mind. Marie Krepps makes these teenagers sound like they would end up in Tosh.0 video montages. They’re goofy, they’re brash, and they’re awkward. Their immature dialogue and silly arguments among themselves paint a realistic picture of what will take place. Ms. Krepps is from a small town in North Carolina, so there’s no doubt in my mind that she’s seen this kind of weirdness before. People always say to write what you know, so not only has Marie done that, but she added a horrific twist at the end of the story. Remember, kids: nobody is safe in Marie Krepps’ works, not even the most innocent little boy.

Speaking of little boys, “Coffins”, which is my favorite story of the two presented, did an excellent job of portraying Pablo as a calm-minded, creepy, and delightfully psychotic teenaged gangster. He’s doing these foul-smelling autopsies in front of a “hardened” gangster like Mick, but Mick is the one who keeps losing his lunch, not Pablo. People say that even evil has standards and while that may be true for Mick, it’s anything but true for Pablo. The little warlock could be watching the Saw movies, Hostel movies, and Human Centipede movies back-to-back and he would assume that they were comedies. Nothing gets to this tiny bastard and that’s what makes him a valuable asset to any drug lord and a formidable threat to anybody who opposes him. Can you believe that Pablo is only fourteen years old and looks much younger? That adds to his creepy aura. Jeffrey Dahmer, Chuck Manson, and Ricardo Ramirez have nothing on this little buzz saw. Absolutely nothing!

The book is only 36 pages long, which means you’ll blow through it in no time at all. The pacing is even throughout and the trauma will build inside you all the same. If you think you can survive five seconds in Marie Krepps’ world, you’re crazier than Pablo. Actually, I don’t think being crazier than Pablo is possible, but you get my point. If you’re looking for two horror stories that will shake you to your core and leave you begging for more (that rhymes), feel free to pick up a copy of “Headstones and Dead Bodies”. A passing grade goes to the author who will make your worst fears come to life and immortalize them forever. Boogedy-boogedy-boo!