Your Stocking

I hung your stocking It’s lumpy and quite heavy Your foot’s still in there Merry Krampus !!! Happy HorrorDays !!!

Ivor Steven: Ripe Tomatoes and a Garden Spade

      Ripe Tomatoes and a Garden Spade   Only another week to go I’ll be on the cruise I’m not feeling nervous More that I’m fearful Scared my plan might go amiss Before the high seas deliver bliss   Taking two suitcases is normal Other passengers may have three I won’t look suspicious

Ivor Steven: The Other Side of Red, White, and Blue

  It was the fourth of July The party seems to be finished Wondering how long I dozed off for Most of my friends have gone A few bodies left, lying on the floor Best I have a piss before I go Now where’s that bathroom Whoops, there’s a girl in here Dressed all in

Dr. Agonson: The Undying Heart

  I swear never my heart to give again, but locked away, letting it rest awhile out of the air—a shoebox burial— keeping its memory, so to forget the unfulfilled future. It still won’t die. I hear its thumping underground, beneath the wet soft earth it pounds and pounds. It will not go unheard. I

SMM EVENT: Write a Halloween Themed Haiku

Halloween’s ghoulish fingers are wiggling through the ground—soon the dark spirit will once again rise from the dead. You still haven’t stabbed an innocent pumpkin? Ye gads! SMM’s goblins are here to solve your squishy dilemma. Aw, look at that! All this candy is affecting your ability to frown, isn’t it? Tsk-tsk. No worries, take

Ivor Steven: Smashed Pumpkin Brains

  What’s it like to be an orange Pumpkin-head Only black sockets for eyes instead. And a cut-out smile full of seeds. Queer ears made of rings and beads. Inside, your brain is scooped out for pigs feed Leaving a dark void that doesn’t bleed. On top you’re like a crinkled dome. And your sore

Journey of the Zombie

Wandering, wandering, wandering I’m searching, I am searching for any sign, a scent of blood, or taste of meat, to sate this driving, driving hungry pining state. Roaming, roaming, roaming desolate waste. Wanting, desiring an unknown place. Nothing is known by me, or seen or said, for I am—I am—of the living dead. Memories, memories,

Tomorrow

  As I stroke you, I feel the darkness again— wanting to use you to rain down her pain. You cut into me with an intensity like no other. Every time I touch you, I’m jello. I quiver. In the dark, I hold you; a smile creases my face. Joy pours out of me; all sadness

SMM EVENT: Zombie Tanka Party

When there’s no more room in hell, the dead will party! Gravestones are gonna shake, rattle, and roll—sink your rotten teeth into the living as you write a zombified tanka poem. Don’t have any ink? Use blood, of course! Not your own, though, because that would be inappropriate and somewhat rude.   Empty Grave I

SMM EVENT: Panic Attack

Congratulations to  !!! Karina !!!  She won Ryn’s Wacky Magnet! Do you hear that? Those are blue birds singing in the trees. The sun is shining and warming your skin. Wait a minute. What the hell is going on? Run! Faster. Here…over here! I’m holding the creaky door open. It’s heavy, man. Quick! Into the shadows of