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[sharixinsanity]

5 posts!

[sharixinsanity]

5 posts!

[sharixinsanity]

An Artist's Kill by Shari X Insanity

Author's Note: Hey guys, I'm back for the Friday or Saturday Tumblr post. This poem was announced on Twitter, Shari X Insanity, follow me there for notifications and updates for when I post on Tumblr. Follow this Tumblr page -- Sharixinsanity.tumblr.com to read my poems. This post was posted late, and I do apologize for that. However, at least it's being posted for midnight/nocturnal hours.

October 1st is here, it's Oct 2nd already. Happy October, happy fall, happy autumn, happy Halloween, and happy Spooky Season to all.

This post is called An Artist's Kill . Think Edgar Allan Poe's Tell Tale Heart, or Sweeney Todd and the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, or Jack the Ripper. It's about a misunderstood artist that doesn't get any recognition or fame, only judgement, and the artist becomes insulted and rips hearts out and uses the hearts as wallpaper; however, its not implied whether or not the artist did in fact commit murder and ripped those hearts out, or it's metaphor. Because the metaphor in the poem is "the act of killing, to make it great", which comes from William Shakespeare's quotes "with greatness thrust upon them" or "words as mighty as your sword", or Macbeth's "something wicked this way comes", or Hamlet's "to be or not to be", which means to slave for your art, work really hard and put effort into it, putting your heart and soul into your art.

This poem is short, not many lines. You can read the attached Word Document converted into PDF, PDF converted into JPEG, or read in the caption the copy & pasted lyrics, to read along.

All poems are original poems written by Shari X Insanity ©️ and all copyrights are reservered to the artist, author, writer, poet, Shari X Insanity ©️, and please refrain from copying, plagiarizing, claiming as your own, or using without permission or consent.

An Artist's Kill is the fourth post for Poetober, and fourth post into this blog, Shari X Insanity's Poetry Page. The first post was The Legend of Satan's Thirst, second post was The Legend of Hades' Beast, and the third post was The Nightmare that Haunt Me. All posts are up for reading and are pinned posts.

Poetober is to celebrate Edgar Allan Poe, Horror poetry, dark fantasy poetry, Spooky Season, Halloween, fall, autumn. Supernatural, paranormal. Like how Inktober is for artists, Poetober is for poets and writers.

Follow my IG: ShariXInsanity

Twitter: ShariXInsanity

Follow and subscribe to this Tumblr page: ShariXInsanity.tumblr.com (Shari X Insanity's Poetry Page).

I hope you all enjoy reading this piece, as I did writing this.

An Artist's Kill by Shari X Insanity

Hearts stapled on the wall

Witness the slit hearts drip

Furiously bleed

Hear their piercing cries

Ringing in your ears

Whoever these hearts belong to

Doesn’t matter now

Today I was too lazy to paint over the plain white wallpaper

Now the wall is blood stained red

Covered in slaughter’s colors

People gasp and stare when they see me

Snicker with the death’s eye

Accuse me as a murder

Instead of an artist

They are horrified by my work

I didn’t know my paintbrush couldn’t speak out its mind

Paint and share my emotion that are silting me up inside

To my dismay I received no recognition or fame

For the work of art; my masterpiece

That I killed to make it great.

 

[sharixinsanity]

The Nightmare that Haunt Me by Shari X Insanity

Author's Note: I was going to post this poem on Friday, but I've had a posting streak for Saturday. So, I'm posting this third post for Poetober, on Saturday. First Poetober post was The Legend of Satan's Thirst; Second post was The Legend of Hades' Beast. May I introduce to you all, the third Poetober post, which is The Nightmare that Haunt Me. You can read either from the attached two Word DocX that was converted into PDF, and PDF into JPEG files, or you can continue reading along here and there will be a caption with copy and pasted lyrics below the Author's Note blurb.

All poems posted into this Tumblr page, Shari X Insanity's Poetry Page, are original poems written by me and all copyrights are reserved to the author, artist, writer, poet, Shari X Insanity ©️, and please refrain from stealing, copying, plagiarism, copyright infringement, claiming work as your own when they are not, and not asking permission or consent to borrow work.

All Shari X Insanity poems are posted here for Poetober -- end of September, and whole month of October, for poems in the horror genre, Edgar Allan Poe technique and style, Spooky Season, Fall and autumn, and Halloween/Samhain/All Hallow's Eve. Poetober is like an Inktober, but instead for artists and with numbered prompts, this is for poets and the creative prompts and themes are mentioned previously.

Follow/subscribe to my Tumblr page, Shari X Insanity's Poetry Page, click like/react love, write a comment/note, share/reshare. Follow my Twitter: Shari X Insanity and my IG: Shari X Insanity for notifications/announcements for when new Shari X Insanity poems are posted to this Tumblr page.

Thank you and enjoy reading my poem, as I did writing it!

The Nightmare that Haunt Me

By Shari X Insanity

There's a dream catcher above my bed

Protecting me from the blood that I shed

And the nightmares that I dreamt

Every sleepless night that I ever slept

I am haunted in my mind

Of a girl dressed in red

On the nightstand the candlelight has burned out

Ghosts are surrounding me

Prepared to shriek their deafening shout

This is the nightmare that haunt me

Wish I could wake up

Wish I could scream

Wish I could sleep a peaceful dream

But, my eyelids are sealed tight

As if I was hexed out of spite

I'm sinking under to the unknown

Fell and landed on a dry facade

And couple of bones

Met by a black hooded figure

The Grim Reaper's daughter

The Grim Reaper's daughter leads me

To a place filled with white tulips

Black roses tinted plum

A casket has been opened

A preacher is standing in front of a crowd

There are people gathered around

Who stench the smell of cigarettes and rum

I watch as the girl dressed in red is being gently put to rest

She wears a black veil

Covering her wounded angelic face

There's blood dripping

Down her cheeks like tears

I am bestowed by the Grim Reaper's daughter

The gift to witness with closed eyes the dead girl's worst fears

I watch intently as the girl's coffin

Lowers to the surface six feet deep

I watch this from afar

Yet close by

Seeing her gently placed

Gives me a slight creep

Down my spine

Because the Grim Reaper's daughter has told me

That this funeral is in fact mine.

[sharixinsanity]

The Legend of Hades' Beast by Shari X Insanity

The Legend of Hades' Beast by Shari X Insanity

Author's Note: Hello, all. I'm Shari X Insnaity, and this is my Poetry Page. This is my second post here in this type of forum.

I used to post in Facebook's Notes Section, but that feature is now defunct, so this brings me here. You have all stumbled upon my poetry journal blog.

I'm going to be posting here often, so please be on the look out for more original poems, written by me, Shari X Insanity.

Please refrain from stealing, or copying, without my permission, or consent.

This post is a second post for Poetober, Poetober is like an Inktober, but instead artists, this is for poets, and there's also no prompts, just a theme--- horror genre, Edgar Allan Poe style techinque, Halloween, Spooky Season. Happy Poetober everyone, to all!

Subscribe, like, comment, reshare, onto other social media platforms, or follow this tumblr page/account/blog/journal, to check out for more Shari X Insanity poetry in the future!

The first Poetober poem, tumblr blog post was The Legend of Satan's Thirst, and this second post is called, The Legend of Hades' Beast.

You can either jump ahead to the poem which are Word DocX pics, PDF to JPEG pics, which are attached to this post, or you can skip ahead and read the caption, which are copy & pasted lyrics, and read along.

All poems are original poems written by sincerely yours truly, Shari X Insanity, and all copyrights are reserved to the poet, author, artist, writer, Shari X InsanityⒸ.

I'll be posting every Friday and/or Saturday. I hope you all will enjoy reading this, as I did writing this. Enjoy!

The Legend of Hades' Beast By Shari X Insanity

There’s a fiery that burns under my skin

An evil beast that I have kept within

I will be the fearsome demon that has ever been

I will be your worst nightmare

That you have ever met

 As my hair turns red

Eyes turn black

Too late, there’s no turning back

My tongue licks my lips

Your gaze already locked

It is time for me to be fed

 As my anger, vengeance, and rage

Builds up ounce by ounce

I can feel my demon heart bounce

I can hear my vicious thoughts race

So fast, so incredibly fast

 What is left of my soul

Right now are fighting to gain control

But it doesn’t stand a chance

Against the evil that boils inside

My human self won’t last

 Now that I have succumb

To my inner demon

That I have always hid from

I have become . . .

 The Beast!

Finally the beast is set free!

So, let’s begin the feast!

Stay away, stay away from me!

Because I have become my beast!

          You can’t run, you can’t hide

I am now embracing the demon

That I have always kept leashed inside

I can feel myself sinking

Sinking under more

I can see clearly the black, blood red gates

Of the Underworld

 Meeting me on the other side

Charon, the silent mysterious hooded cloak man

He nods his head with no words ever spoken

Taken all my golden tokens

His boat guides us down the river of Styx

 Sitting high and mighty on his throne

Hades, the ruler of all the pits of the Underworld

Once I am near him, I bow down

As soon as I get back up from my knees and the ground

He has a mischievous, wicked yet seductive smile

Creeping across his face

He has long black hair that covers his alluring eyes

 I should be afraid but I am not

Instead my stomach and heart are caught in a knot

His skin is pale and flawless

Hades’ beauty leaving me speechless

 Hades’ smile is still seen

Dark eyes staring down at me

Because he’s proud and pleased

Of his new, precious beast.

[sharixinsanity]

The Legend of Satan’s Thirst by  Shari X Insanity

The Legend of Satan's Thirst by Shari X Insanity

Author’s Note: Hello, all. I’m Shari X Insanity, and this is my Poetry Page. This is my first ever post here in this type of forum. I used to post in Facebook’s Notes Section, but that is now a defunct feature, so this brings me here, and you have all stumbled upon my poetry journal blog. I’m going to be posting here often, so please be on look out for more poems. These are all original poems, written from myself, please refrain from stealing, or copying, without my permission or consent. 

I will be posting here often for Poetober, Poetober is like an Inktober, but instead for artists, this is for poets, and there’s also no prompts, just a theme -- horror genre, Edgar Allan Poe style technique, Halloween, Spooky Season. Happy Poetober to all! 

Subscribe, like, comment, reshare onto other social media platforms, or follow, this tumblr account/blog/page, to check out more Shari X Insanity poetry in the future.

The first Poetober poem/Tumblr blog post is The Legend of Satan’s Thirst, you can either read along in the caption which I’ve copy & pasted my poem lyrics/verses, stanzas, or you can read the PDF/JPEG files which are attached. 

I’ll be posting every Friday/Saturday.

Enjoy! 

All poems are original poems written by the author, and all copyrights are reserved to the poet, artist, author, Shari X Insanity©.

The Legend of Satan’s Thirst 

By: Shari X Insanity

 There was once a drink,

That pours in red.

The color of blood,

And death.

No human, or mortal,

Could survive the sip.

One shlook, one gulp,

And you will drop.

So much to take in

‘By toxic, poisonous,

Mouthful.

 Off goes your head.

So much smoke.

That you need to hold yourself.

Before you choke.

 Because Satan is a demonic devil,

With a dark sense of humor,

Despite being a malevolent ruler, or King of Hell,

Constantly throwing the biggest, grand parties, and ordeals.

 The King of Hell is greatly entertained by his guests' pain.

Alas, Satan, the King of Hell, may dwell on the nine fiery pits’ delves.

And he sends his best regards, as he cordially invites one and all.

To a noisy, rowdy, raucous, wild, chaotic, unruly, frenzied, relve.

 Scallywags, scoundrels, and tricksters are in attendance alike,

Who have responded to the mass invites in bulk.

Who have arrived for the evil, devious, diabolical, wicked time.

For mischief, mayhem, havoc, and shenanigans.

Of all of the nine realms.

 Before the time, or hour befalls,

For the Grim Reaper, the ferryman, shall collect all of the souls.

The souls that will fall on the river of Styx,

When you hear the bell that has been rung.

 Satan truly hopes that this astonishing ball.

Will bring everyone altogether high, down, up, below, from near, or far.

That the attendees will reach an unlimited capacity, and near full.

That the bash will be not close to being dull.

 Only non-stop, crazy fun.

Even if you cannot leave when you are done.

Even if you cannot say your bid well, or farewell.

 Satan is feeling most prevalent and celebrant

To get everyone to dance in their cells, until they cannot anymore.

To dance, dance, dance—and dance,

Until their limbs fall off, and they can no longer go on any further

 To dance as if enchanted, spelled, or hexed,

From some unbreakable trance.

Satan smokes and drinks, but you cannot smell his burnt of ashes odor,

Only his chocolaty tint dipped with something sweet

The unfamiliar sweetened, sugary and spice, the scent is along with

Satan’s aftershave, perfume, or cologne.

 Maybe his scent or aura.

He is an exhumer and consumer of sorts.

A Jack of all trades and cohorts.

Cards falling or hidden, while tucked into his sleeves

He is very tight, very close with his imps, as thick as thieves.

Always talking super-fast when telling grand tales,

Getting his tongue caught into a knot, that he will have to unravel

His tongue, like a dagger and its sheath, wrapped in cloth.

 Always with a grin, smile, or smirk

Laughing at his subjects, minions, and impish jokes

Impish cackles, and laughs maniacally evilly.

 Not being able to contain himself,

As his stomach rumbles.

The drink is dripping down from his chin,

Down to his whiskers.

He is drinking the goblet of nightmare

With a bloody éclair.

 The drink spilling and spitting

Everywhere into the air.

Spilling, spitting, dripping in drink

As the foam and suds covers and drenches

His goatee and mustache

His laugh is infectious and contagious

Which spreads and reaches to every last one of his subjects.

Because he is sitting upon his throne, hand raised, about to make a toast.

 He drinks the bubbling, fizzing, tonic

Which can be scotch, vodka, or cognac,

That will make any living mortal’s blood vessels, to burst,

Mortals with a working pulse.

Because maybe Satan’s a maniac.

 This drink is only for the dead or undead

Not for the faintest of hearts.

 This is Satan’s preferred drink.

Preferably shaken and stirred.

With a decapitated finger,

Of a lost soul that has since been tortured

With mixing, stirring with just the tip.

 Using the keepsake, leftover finger as a teaspoon.

That Satan kept fondly in the pocket of his suit.

Alas, that poor buffoon.

Whomever that person t’was.

With a laugh, a smile, another chug

From his drink, and a shrug.

 Drip, drip, goes the drink,

The contents have dripped.

Down Satan’s chin.

 Sliced, diced, minced, spiced, on the rocks,

The ice cubes stained in blood, on the icicles,

Within the cup.

 Satan chugs the malice.

That’s within the cup.

This cup is a goblet, a chalice

Extravagant, and luxurious.

Lavish to a deathly fashion.

 Upon his throne

He sits high, tall, and almighty

Wearing a three-horned crown

Fire, flames gathering,

Surround his entombed throne.

 Screaming, piercing, cries of the tortured

Of the sinned and punished

Surrounds the chilled, dead silenced, air.

Begging out for mercy, if there’s any left,

Satan, the Hell’s king, is examining his clawed nails, apparently daft.

 He ignores the cries, shrieks, and screams.

He smiles from ear to ear.

Enjoying the sounds and what he hears.

Only fuelling his hellfire to grow.

Fuelling his hellfire to glow.

 His hellfire is bubbling in a nearby cauldron

The essence of the Outworld, the Otherworld, Underworld.

And everything that falls within the balance in-between the worlds.

 Satan wants to rule, to lead,

To dominate.

To conquer.

To be the only one true king.

 He wants to spread his dominance

Into heaven

To be a king there

Or unleash to earth

And spread his fire, whichever which way

On whatever perth

Fire leading behind a path.

 Satan has an unsatisfied appetite or desire

That’s left unquenched, and unextinguished

Hunger or thirst

Until snuffed or smothered

 That’s more than what is in the cup.

The unknown concoction of contents,

The mysterious alchemy of ingredients,

By one gulp, about to blow,

Once swallowed in the esophagus,

And the world as we know it

Would be toast, or cease to exist.

A burnt inferno left in crumbs.

 Satan with his red face

Drawn out eyebrows, cocked, arched, and raised.

His face was in a grim grimace.

A goatee at the chiseled chin, like a Roman myth statue

And an Italian pizzeria chef, with a catfish-looking mustache.

Horned by three at the top of his head.

His stare is deadly, eyes the color of crimson red.

 He wears the finest of tailored suits.

Pinstriped down the middle

Trousers to match, and complete the ensemble

A top hat sits at the top of his head

Hiding his three horns inside

And tucked in, is his long forked tail

That slips down his side.

 And sat in his hands is a timepiece

That always knows “the time”.

His bash is near the end and he takes out his pocket watch

To look upon the pocket watch’s front glass, the front face

To read the hour hands and minute hands, and know what time it is

Because in hell, time is simply fleeting, fleeing fast.

 The pocket watch is attached to a long chain

And is placed in his trousers’ pocket’s back belt loop, expectantly and indignantly.

As he is tapping on one of his leather buckled shoes, impatiently.

He stares at the pocket watch for merely a second,

And places the pocket watch away with a sway immediately.

With his drink set aside, he toys with a two-sided, double-sided coin.

 Satan always toys and plays with a coin.

A double-sided coin that’s neither heads nor tails

A coin that’s a bit of a shiny bronze,

A rusted fool’s gold that has since lost some luster and shine

However, that’s not what catches Satan’s red eyes

It’s the coin’s design

So obscure and arcane

 The coin slips back into Satan’s trouser pockets

Along with the pocket watch attached to the long silver chain

He chews on a flame’s match from a matchbox, instead.

As he lifts his goblet, to hold and juggle, masterfully both,

Balancing with both hands, the items, as balanced as the Fates’ scales.

With both hands.

 He chews on the match

And sometimes a cigar

That never blows out.

An endless, neverending smoke.

That never seems to ever end.

 And he doesn’t need a matchbox

To lit the flame

The flame on the end of the cigar is always lit.

By a snap of a finger

Sometimes getting zapped that he sucks on it.

Or a wave by the hand.

 Chewing on the end of the match

Doesn’t seem to stop the quench

That tug in his stomach or gut

The squelch, twinge, or pinch,

The smoke doesn’t even cough up his throat

Or even his lungs.

 His thirst is for something more

That cannot ever be explained

The thirst for power

A power that needs to be obtained,

But once obtained, the Seers and Fates have spoken and prophesied:

Nothing in this world will ever be the same,

And nothing could ever seize or stay.

 The hell, earth, and above

The storm, the fire, the black,

Even heaven will seize to exist

Plummet into an apocalypse

And explode.

 All because of one drink

That had Satan’s sip.

Everything that we have known

Everything that we’ve held dear

Would be left in remains.

 Satan will walk into this graveyard,

Of what the universe left behind it,

The harbinger of that apocalypse

Of omens, of how things end,

And all’s well, that ends well.

 Satan will bend down to a sitting crouch,

Both hands on his knees, in that squat,

Swept his fingers across the dust,

And be marveled of Satan’s thirst.

 Of what he created and made.

Of Satan’s wrath.

 As this story, this tale, this legend, draws to an abrupt close.

As fiery fireballs ablaze the path.

And be heard of in the distance are wings of bats,

Flying together as a family, in a colony, in a cauldron,

As they do fly into the night,

Across the dark sky’s clouds,

About to take flight.

– Fin –

[sharixinsanity]

Dear Readers,

Ladies and gents, of all realms.

Esteemed viewers, Readers, lovers of fine art and poetry.

You are all cordially invited.

For we have stumbled upon a month, or shall I say months of celebration. (September and October).

Poetober.

Poetober is Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry, and horror genre, and October, and Halloween, spooky season, and a spoof of Inktober, but for poets, instead of artists. However, poetry is an art form medium, and poetry is art, so that makes me the artist.

I'll be posting in Shari X Insanity Poetry Page. Often. Please do check out my horrid posts of macabre, horror, terror, & gore, and enjoy in due time, and scream in fright or delight to my pages of poetry of tales, myths, legends, and stories alike with no light in the darkest nights.

I'm inviting you all into Poetober.

Grotesquely yours,

Shari X Insanity

♤ Author's Note/Edit/Update ♤:

The picture is Tibalt, a MTG trickster devil imp Planeswalker.

The song is Vampire Heart by HIM.

This message is about Poetober. Keep checking this Tumblr account to find out what Poetober is, and please follow, subscribe, like, comment, share, or you'll be hung at gallows.

#Poetober #Poetry #New #FirstPost #FreshMeat