Tag Archives: terror
je suis charlie
in those glancing shadows
of inky truth and pattern
there would be no ennui,
condemn not capitulate
to the bugle call of atrocity,
it is only anarchy
not religion,
that has to be illustrated
by pencil sharp sword
render and portray
a prophets wisdom abused
to generate and perpetuate
a list of abhorrent terror
activated by those
with misguided sense of being
steady hand describes
that no single act
will be unaccounted
a channel for truth
that should not be
a satirists end
#je suis charlie
#je suis ahmed
5 Great, Obscure 70s and 80s Horror Shorts
Jess Franco – Nightmares Come at Night (1970)
Luke Guidici – Certified (2012)
snow white
a morgue at three am
let in by shorty,
not a nice place to visit
let alone work,
by walls of brushed steel doors
vaults of death
hidden human forms,
middle row on the left was one,
modesty sheet
not to keep her warm
he looked on
as this his fifth night,
tugging away the sheet,
touching her breast
tracing cold lividity
that place
a special place
he went as he had done
so before,
finding his release
never of thinking
of how it would of been
had she been alive,
eternal sleep
poisoned once
so caught up this time
passion spent
leaned forward
and kissed her
lips still ruby red
she awoke
not to embrace
not to love
but devour her prince
consume his soul
to her own need
,
when the vulnerable fall
laughter in the hollow of her throat
as moon breaks the body,
ribbon eyelids flutter under kiss
his fingers touched auburn hair
that fell over sand pillows
spent and tired bones felt broken,
dreams have a bold voice
to those who need the warmth
he knelt beside with longing
for her to be more than a long rapture,
kissing her ankle
against his lips no cold tremor
she was all confession and truth to him,
her heart soft as an apricot
picked from behind a breast
he the only one,
his words of struggle
the urge to thrive and live in this world
or find solace in the next,
beyond borders of another land
she is from within
listening through ears
whispered on each morning,
after a long shower she dressed
under his gaze
sovereignty of eyes made her feel not
alone,
she had honor and resilience
no longer that awkward shy girl
from a minnesota school,
her hand felt his harden on hers
to be there farewell until later,
she felt no shock on leaving the house
no irony or weariness
bag slung over shoulder
walking to the bus,
catching smiles of men who wanted to
possess,
a word she heard that made her smile
infidels
she was now a vessel
returning to the mall
that very mall she worked a beauty salon
for minimum wage,
today would be her immortal day
memory and history would find a place
for her,
her soul had a message to be given to the
world,
and with a single bomb she would carry it
This topic is difficult and in somber mood has to be aired that any country terrorism can come from any angle not just foreigners and immigrants as some areas of the media like to point out, sometimes as seen here in England it is the young and impressionable no job or low income find they have become fed up and to want act , react against what they see is against them be it family or government and others can prey on them influence them not saying this happens in all cases as you have extremists everywhere in religion or politics the thing is the message has to be conveyed that we are community all of us the world has shrunk and we must care more to prevent such horrific acts of mindful violence it sounds simplistic but is there a perfect answer i hope so one day
Fede Alvarez -Ataque de Pánico! (Panic Attack!) 2009
This was the short film that brought him to Hollywoods attention filmed in Uruguay
burn the other way
stressed cotton gripped,
lithograph shapes move
incoherent blemishes
caught by tired eye,
already a haven
checked by those who love,
yet still cold
comes to linger as an
unwelcome friend,
that closet door moves
with slow intent,
tomorrow a long voyage away
and the captain is
losing the wheel,
wanting to send up flares
light kerosene lamps,
to see
bedroom ocean
hindered by furry forms
that sulk in masses,
stories stringed words
hung across the mind
cranial denial,
cotton scrapes
a loose floorboard resonates
without help
from human form,
as captain he needs a crew,
crew of rag and plastic
to his call they rally
corners become embattled
cotton pushed aside,
sails on pine vessel,
beneath the night
a warrior born
clouds of gods look down,
moon casts a charming glow,
a battle cry
loud inside a voice parents
can never here,
on deck face splashed
by waves of memory,
wheel in his grasp
volley and surge
crackled into the night
with electric interference,
lips once moist
with mothers milk
now bloodied call proud,
monsters fled
lines defiled and beaten
each rushing over the fallen,
he would not be wounded
he would not falter,
time a soft blanket
on which he tiredly fell
sleep devoured
and all this would be
a satisfying memory by morning,
but not the claw embedded
in bedroom wall
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