Ivor Steven: Pumpkin Soup Again

    Head’s falling like an unpinned grenade. Soon ready to explode. Burying shrapnel pieces in corners of shade. Scattered like broken retina globes. Razor blades shredding memory lockets. Slivered icicles inside blurry sockets. Needles of pain. Sheets of sleet before the rain. Bloodied eyeball tracks like meteor trails. And the pain-numbing capsules do fail.

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

Ivor Steven: Broken Plates and Rabbit Stew

  Have you ever had that weird fantasia sort of dream. Where you can’t see beyond the silver screen. Greyness is black and red is green. Straight lines are wavering slivery beams. Stitched inside your brain’s sewn-up seams. Bagged and tagged a pale corpse unseen. Blueness in blood and plasma in streams. Like chunky bittersweet

Walt Page: My 12 Nightmares of Christmas

    Imagine, if you will, a classic Christmas song, Turned into a nightmarish 12 nights of nightmares! Behold my monstrous last chorus of My 12 Nightmares Of Christmas Sung to the melody of The 12 Days Of Christmas…   On the 12th nightmare of Christmas, These nightmares came to me— 12 Slasher Monsters 11

Ivor Steven: My Dragon (The Trilogy)

  My Dragon. A Monstrous Dragon, breathing fire. Did arise from the gurgling mire. Dark gangrenous green, from head to tails. Claws blackened, sharp as nails. Purple secretions, from his scaly chest. A spear harpooned, a grizzly mess. Eyes seeping yellow maggot heads. My Dragon’s crying, and nearly dead.   My Dragon, The Revival My

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,

Last Encounter

  Cold obsidian night. Your pupils are enlarged. Are you all right? Our paths today have matched. I will be sweet for you. I will be bitter, my dear. You will experience something new. You will feel fear very clear… Red blood will drip on the grass. You will moan, you will gasp. I will

Dominion

    Find meat stuck in teeth of glaze-eyed Beasts, Of prey from some dangerless lands, Pluck out what was left from unprincipled feasts, And show them the fibrous strands. Upon seeing these, it’d cause no unease, Save for those with the conscience of rams, To dismantlers by degrees, as dutch elm disease, In unremorseful-laden

SMM Event: Mini Monsters & Micro-Fiction

Before we start our new event, congratulations to  !!! Mich !!!  She won Toni’s & Vern’s Haunted House Charms. Have you been sweltering in the summer heat? Has perspiration been rolling down your face and creating buckets of sweat in your belly button and other orifices you’d rather not see turn into swamps? Well, come on in! It’s cold within