Halloween Special Featured Writer 10/31/19

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The Witches of Bernheim

Sleepless shade of endless burden
Rain wash away, my mourning birch skin
Dripping elms torched and smoken
Twigs laid about amongst a dying coven
Rinse the dirt, from the painted cowen
Stand before the crone for the tithing omen.

Judgement passes near from the eyes of a stone head
Mildew leaves wetten, singed en aroma;
The circle hath swept seeds of last autumn
Torches made from cane for the mossen elken fauna.
The stag’s silhouette in the fog line of the flora
A dancing pirouette to the Sabbaths eerie sonnet.

Under lunar orbs that bled
Wicker men will then be mounted,
A pact with devils made; obeyed.
Claimed by Christened King's confounded,
Gossip spread, towns ill dread
Whispered by a Countess.
Skies awoke and we evoke
The shadows of our craftwork.

Drowned within the charcoal mist
Unhallowed spirit in this flesh
Wafted stench of cremains;
Ashen in its graves of nine possessions.

Lamented upon the chalice
No throne nor stole can hold
A power of three, a charm, a herb,
An element, or a Loa.
Bewitch us in a nite
Under skies fiery globes,
Antlers snarl a sigh
Missed by the hunter’s arrow
Nasal breath; exhaled the drip
Creatures called out to the burrows,
The ground awoke its cries evoke
In the psalms of a sparrow.

Maliced heart turned hardened dead
Idle human in the meadow
It stood afoot, on the witches root
In the woods of the cypress.

Black Mass: The Sisters Summon

Sweet dreams land of spiders
One old crone mouth of pliers.

Take back bone cease all fire
Thread the hair moving mire.

Forage meadow in nude we haunt
Broken twig, betwixt the spawn.

Laughing shroud sun light dials
Crystal cheeks broken smile.

Write en mass engulfed in black
Thrashings come, fifty lash.

Sabbath psalm quench the king
Cut the lamb raise the beast,

Form a circle drip the snail
Crush the teeth then the shell.

Salt the wound mix in mouth
Bind the mirror and from this ground;

Dig a hole, lift the skull
Take the legs cusp the bull,

Reach the arms pull them up
A drop of blood and wicked tongue.

Shriek to sky, howl at moon
Salem’s gone our coven grew.

Dance en flight murmur song,
Balmy tides from fragrant swamp.

Gravers dug unhallowed tomb
We pull our sister with Oxen hooves.

Dress with scales; decompose.
She walks again in frocken robes.

Avant! This night trailed wispen orbs
She takes her place on Western Pointe.

Ghosts: Parts I & II

I.
Green tides of shame
Flowing progression
Hardened heart in empty skin
Streets paved wet, etched, and fickle
Yellow light casts down on fence.
Sitting wet clutching footprints
Hooded figure; Gutters fall.
Rain trembles in the linen
A soldier of I, the ravens caw.
In the cracks the puddle lances
Every drop hits errant pulse.
Treescapes in my message
But when I lay boulders form.
Haze timid, unrelenting,
Where we speak dead words form.
Vision blurred by the sunsets
Moving comets part the yard,
Rage built in confessions
Breathing me in a graven fog.
Landscapes filled, in smoke stacks
A city of glass; throw a rock.
What was vague but once distant
The airs current carries me along.

II.
Fear is trepidation
Cold gaze walk as one
A will; turned to fury
Eyes dissent turn on soil.
Arms wrapped, and blurring
The vision clings en toil
Tragic are the footsteps
Standing still as they're grown
Keep in mind, too remember-
Dark days, linger still.
Ice crushed thin; unrelenting,
Too many words within my ears
The storm vague but once distant
The showers descent into view
The silence of our echo; howling aggression
Comets; the seething stars.
Blood spilt for these pages
Revelations too quick to come
An act of rage
Written with: dead letters,
Pen and ink the weapons scar.

©Frogg Corpse all rights reserved

Frogg Corpse Photo

Frogg Corpse is an author, actor, vocalist, and poet from Louisville, Kentucky. Frogg recently published a guest blog for 48 Hour Books on the importance of documenting dreams to improve writing. In 1999 Frogg Corpse was one of the youngest poets and members at that time in the International Society of Poets. In 2011 Frogg Corpse wrote a memoir titled: The Mourning Hour which in 2012 was showcased at the London Book Fair. Also in 2012 Frogg Corpse worked as a haunt actor for Waverly Hills Sanatoriums’ haunted house. Frogg also auditioned for season 12 of American Idol in Chicago. In 2013 Frogg Corpse served as a background actor for Magician Criss Angel’s Spike TV show BeLIEve while living in Las Vegas and also was cast in a supporting role for the film Las Vegas Story featuring Eric Roberts. Also in 2013 Frogg Corpse Auditioned for NBC’s The Voice twice in Las Vegas and in Los Angeles. Currently, Frogg has a poetry book coming out soon called: “A Quick Guide to Suicide: Poetry to die by” with dark artwork by artist Vitaly Illyn also known as Barandash Karandashich of Russia. Copies of Frogg’s book The Mourning Hour are owned by MTV Jackass Star Stephen “Steve-O” Glover and comedian Jim Jefferies.

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