The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

prickly pear shoes and a taste for the bizarre

she drives past your house in the ghost of a town car

some call her the Hellion from Skellion

a town on the shore

but most forget the name

when her knuckles drag across their door



she keeps her lips in her purse

lips pursed

keeps her eyes on the air

dont be scared

reading tarots behind a mausoleum

bleeding pharaohs in the distance

she rides to see them

from bad choices to loitering voices

she makes up for lost time without haste

sad songs smoked from ashen bongs

she loves the way my emotions taste

plastic colored beads

spilled onto a cement floor

whats these deeds youve done

the deeds of a whore

red yellow orange and blue

but mostly ones of blackened hue

spill them down the drain and ask for more

im so sick of hearing how thats just you



i dont remember what you look like

or maybe I do

as i write an image appears

of eyes as big as boulders

and as cold as em to

crooked chin

to crooked for your own good

breath the flavor of burning wood

face hidden under a sex worshipers hood



beads of sweat

spilled on a gallery floor

whats this art youve created

the brushstrokes of a whore

white pink purple and navy blue

but mostly ones of misleading hue

wash your brushes in the blood of man

you just do it because you know you can



i might recall what you sound like

and then again maybe I dont

as I listen to the night a sound appears

crickets dying in the depths of your throat

from possessed vocal chords incantations float

your orgasms pantomimed

from the Call of the Goat

jars of larvae

preserved in vinegar

surround the corpse of old Father Finicker

blew his head clean off with a 22

hope his sermons on suicide wont haunt you



standing by the window trying to chew her fingers off

flutters the tortured apparition of Misses Mallory Croft

naked in her barn's hay loft

they say she sucked one blotter too many and her brain went soft

in the darker halls of Hell echoes her rattling Marlboro cough



out here wandering in the space between my questions

i met myself

but didnt recognize the face



couldnt recall the name

although the letters and syllables are all the same

stumbled for something witty to say

but just ended up coldly whispering good day

and trudging off into the setting sun like every footfall was a prayer to The Almighty



predigested thought

i think my fate is caught

between all the lies ive spat

and all the trouble ive bought

I hope one of you pigs has learned a lesson

my name is Arthur James Hisken

and this has been Tales From the Wandering Pen

It's a demon I know it

floating around my brain stem like a demented revolving door

It's a shame, I showed it

while my knees were scraped beyond recognition by the freezing cement floor

It's my last chance, watch me blow it

My hollow skull cannot wait for the drill to begin its bore

Life is an insane scattering with no flow to it

so just watch the dead waves beat the skeletal shore.

rationality only leads to banality

so lets sharpen our teeth and try to lose our sanity

until were 2 rabid rabbits trapped in a polka dot wasteland

waiting for pretty pieces of garbage to blow into our hands

in a closet full of mirrors

in a bathtub of barbiturates

you can find her

dressing her wounds with jewels

muttering all men are fools

trying to look erotic for the morning news



the cameras arrived right when the sky turned blue

her face turned red

when she told the stoic anchor what she just did

i brained my no good husband with a golden candelabra

you people hear what I just fucking said?



gently placed into the back of the cruiser

the local police were careful not to bruise her

for they knew of the millions she possessed

and all the dignity

lest we forget

go ahead officer

take a peek at my legs

the last gentleman who did

is back there in that mansion dead



long white fingers grip the bars of her cell

stomach empty

she waits for the dinner bell

the orange jumpsuit matches her complexion

oh

so

well

even better then the pink cashmere

that once clung so sensuously to her plentiful breast

scrubbing the metal jailhouse toilets with Librammonia

what more could an air sign detest?

seraphim embodiment

for 66 pounds

I have a piano you can rent

so you can perform your final sonata

for an audience of twisting burn victims

melting atop the cities boiling terracotta



last spring

I witnessed the

broken

ballerine

Figurine

of my dreams

dance right off the toy ship's plank

and into a churning lava stream

she cried out for help

tongue around thumb

I tried to throw her a livesaver

but my arm was too numb



existence is an inconvenience

waiting for my slave wages perched atop an electrified fence

today the mail came

today I got my sixpence

what a proud state of affairs

back to the salt mines tomorrow

I wish i could still care



last spring

I witnessed the

broken

ballerine

Figurine

of my dreams

dance right off the toy ship's plank

and into a churning lava stream

she cried out for help

tongue around thumb

I tried to throw her a live saver

but my heart was too numb

the subtle thrill of winter

sinks its icicle fangs into your exposed nape

running its thin tongue all over your pale naked body

with the frozen blue tongue of rape

down below

the Earth pleads for quick thaw

chilled dirt

begging for the springtime cure

while sprites brandishing antique violins

play dirges on the rooftops of Melure



the sensation of flying

the menstration of dying

bursting from your loins like oceans of war

a curse of blood foretold by rotting pages of folklore

screeched by a serpent faced whore

with a head of 4

gesticulating wildly on the rooftops of Melure



the sensation of pulsation

echoing within your nerve endings

reaching out from inside your mind like outstretched tentacles

wrapping itself around rusted metal pentacles

worn by the career evil and the blackened unpure

who sip fine wine on the rooftops of Melure

line em up one by one

today was my first day

first day in the sun

shoot em down one by one

all the cherubs

all the moribund

its such a blessing

all the children died

while having fun



lie down

make believe

the rainbow seeps through the trees

onto your stomach

onto the target

through her open window

onto her makeup mirror

she shouldve closed the lid before she went to dinner



line em up two by two

today was my second day

second day in someone elses shoes

shoot em off two by two

all the cherubs halos

all the parasites sucking from you

its such a shame

that the old have to die

while the children are huffing glue



sit up

realities arrived

the vulture spirals into a nosedive

aiming for your stomach

aiming for the target

flying through her window

smashing her vials of cocaine

she shouldve snorted it all before she went back to lovers lane



line em up three by three

today was my last day

last day being me

let em go three by three

all the cherubs

all the honeybees

my only memory of youth

was begging God please



the cherubs all smile as they fall towards fields of green

cause the devil cant snatch them from their waking dream

youre nothing but

half a mannequin in a tourniquet scarf

youre nothing but

a bored needle poking my heart

youre nothing but

a ghost trespassing in my dreams

youre everything but

any of the good things



and now we enter

a place warped by distortion

where stares turn into careers

lifetimes of swirling contortion

i couldnt leave even if I tried

i cant leave even if I die

so go pick up a fucking Bible

if youre the kind of person

who always wonders why



youre nothing but

a sunflower drenched in gas

youre nothing but

a newborn sucking on broken glass

youre nothing but

a breathing delusion of doubt

youre everything but

anything that counts

making for the morgue

with my laugh tattooed on your arm

i see that youre mine again

the question is for how long



little red couldnt leave the attic

cause the witch swallowed her skeleton key

next time she goes outside to play

im sure she wont forget to say please

i never did pay

for the honey

i stole from the queen bee

maybe one day

she'll gather up the courage

to sting me

bring me

the mucus of her extraction

in between her mood swings

in between her contractions



bunch of borings

hanging from the basement ceiling

tried to be bats

cause thats just how they were feeling

stared upside down at each others faces

till their skin started peeling

they all knew they were dead

when their little fanged brains started reeling



little blue couldnt get into the attic

cause the warlock swallowed his skeleton key

next time he goes outside to play

im sure he'll forget to say please

i never did pay

for the honey

i stole from the king bee

maybe one day

he'll gather up the courage

to sting me

wring me

in between his wings of sweet suffocation

till i rip apart like a wet napkin

to the rest of the hives hungry elation



wheeled out of the morgue

with my laugh tattooed on your forehead

you were mine again for a little while

till you decided you preferred being dead