My Recipe For Dark Poetry

One part Grimm--One part Poe

One part Suess--One part King

One part self-stylization

Combine with passion.
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Shaken not stirred
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Presto-change-o!

Now say good-bye to the tree scribbler
That pansy sniffing, little wanker!

I'll bring a horde of long boats
And invade his pathetic land.

We will pillage and burn his villages
Taking everything that is of value.

We will dismember and disembowel the men
Rape the women, over and over again!


"STOP!!!  That is quite enough.

I am the creative conservator for this poem
And I apologize for the horrid style of writing.

Dismemberment, disemboweling and rape
Long boats, Viking raids and whole-sale slaughter.

These are not the things I had intended for this poem
Even though this material could make a good dark poem.

The writer has been fired--Another has taken his place
Please enjoy the rest of this poem."
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Now say good-bye to the tree scribbler
Welcome the overlord of darkness.

Crimson drips from my feather quill, ever downward
Deep into this bottomless chasm, that of my soul.

I will hunt down choice young women
Carving my poetry into their backs.

As they lie writhing and screaming
I shall call out to the moon above.

In one hand, my blood drenched knife
In the other, my hard, fully erected...


"STOP RIGHT THERE!!!
Not one more word.

Good gracious.  I sincerely apologize once more
This language and bloody style of writing is appalling.

Those responsible for hiring this writer
Have been fired,  along with the writer.

Coincidentally, he was just arrested
For a string of brutal murders.

Hey, who would have known?

A new writer has been hired, by me
He will finish out this poem.  Enjoy."
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Now say good-bye to the tree scribbler.

No more...
Skipping and prancing about
Giggling with a shy blush
Pressing wild flowers into a diary
Dressing in women's clothing...


"Stop it!"
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Welcome now the shadow master
As the dark poet emerges.

That phantom of dark tales
That grim writer of broken dreams
That fallen scribe of less than cheery fables
That hair-brain, harbinger of pain...


"Get to the end please."
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Behold this tortured soul
His quill etching out the finality of sadness.

His heart spills its' last out-pouring
And the ink finishes out the page.

He now wishes all of you a fond...
Fare thee well
Parting is such sweet sorrow
Happy trails
Good-bye, good-bye to everything
The play is done, the curtain drops
Good-bye and good riddance
Live long and prosper
May the force be with you...


"FINISH THE FUCKING POEM!!!"
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FIN