Shopkeeper

Posted on by the_dorian_poe
Artwork by Lukasz Matuszek

The sudden clatter of its doorway bells, gave a startling shake

To the settled dust, suffocating this dank and eerily quaint shop,

Only lit, by its multitude of ominous aquariums, littered with floating ghostly shadows

Cast, onto the patron’s face as they stand, mesmerized, by their haunting dance,

Unsure of what the glass tubes house, they enter, feeling the shift in space

As if they’re walking towards the current, forcibly pushing

While leading them further, into the darkly kept dwelling of the strange,

To the wandering eye, this shop might trip into glance,

Failing to capture intrigue, warded by way of a thick layer of neglect

Upon the untouched trinkets that possess a hint, of grotesque,

Gouged eyes, nestled within a tattered doll’s stomach, while holding a noose,

Sunken, to the bottom of the tallest tank, set to illuminate

The doll… and its other inhabitants, as they slither along the expansive tube,

Slicing in and through the fluffed entrails of the ornamental doll, picking apart its recent kill,

While the patron’s eyes are fixed, and show a curious admiration, for what lies amongst the forgotten

Scattered rubble of marinating organs, hideous demon masks and random deformities,

They hesitate to dive further, suddenly consumed by an uneasy feeling, of a stalking radiance,

Could it be the unearthly bust, depicting a deathly deity, framed by its flowing tentacles,

Or the collection of faceless burlap dolls, all sitting at attention,

But drawing them in closer, was the persistent hum,

They searched for the one who curated this collection of oddities,

Craning their sight over the stacked murky tanks,

Losing themselves further into the labyrinth, squeezing past all its devilish splatter

And finally making it to the counter, with its own, auspicious tank, and the steward

Staring down his intrusive patron, while clicking his sharp, crusty, nails,

Echoing them off the stressed podium, sending out waves of an icy twinge,

“Welcome, young sir, you look lost, did you truly mean to enter my shop?”

His last syllable popped, like an explosion of a fully expanded balloon from a sharp tiny, prick,

Almost offended by this intrusion upon his place of business, which begged, for attention

As the suffocating vacancies haunt the destitution of the aquarium,

And while his piercing glare stunted the patron’s procession, he demanded,

“Well… Approach my bench with whatever you’re totting under that trench.”

While never breaking his transfixed survey, they ascended, tentatively,

And slowly uncovered a white rectangular box and solemnly resting it upon the altar,

Still feeling the radiation of his gaze, ignoring the slow drooping salve in the shopkeepers’ ogle,

They finally broke their silence, easing off of their own stifle,

“I wish I could say it was the vanity of your shop that drew me in, but it was by word.”

A stale silence engorged, within the tension of their occupied space

Until a furious explosion from the quirky merchant…

“I stay shrouded until needed, and by your stance, and this bleak capsule

Presented in such dismay, to my auspicious deliberation,

Blasting! In through my quaint shop, alive simply on referral,

Unapparent, the moment the heart within this box fails to be relevant…..”

Paralyzed, in a recollection from placing his hand upon the recently departed

And then taking a deep breath, inhaling the aura of the grim, yet somber container,

“Although…. I may be able to devour your suffering, and supress

The devastation by way of having what was entwined within you, ripped apart,

At the stem, so the memories can pleasantly haunt, instead of giving a crushing finale.”

“So what I was told, incidentally, happens to be of merit

That you’re to ingest my  emptiness, that has suffocated me, within this existing torment?”

“Not exactly I, but my spirit non the less- did you express your appearance here within my invoked heart, is by error?”

Sunken into his chest was a shade of disbelief, as those words caved his momentum,

“I happened to be within a barely audible range, when I overheard about your bizarre services,

What I had believed to be the absence of direction, had in fact found my scent

Drawing me onto the whispered path, familiar, yet shadows of secracy exist,

For while doubting your existence, I stumbled upon your elusive illustration,

Baffled by its unusual appearance, I remain in battle with it’s presence

Yet here I stand, subservient to your merciful obliteration, to bring forth a chapter in my prose.”

“You may bear knowledge of my curious presence, but beyond my services

For I’m more curious about what lies beyond your, closet door, so may I excavate your orbital tunnels?”

The hum of all the aquariums were nevermore evident, than within the sudden silence

Following that cryptic collection of utterances, that echoed out, requiring reply,

But they were stifled by fright, from display of his widely stretched grin,

Yet the curiosity of his odd proposal led them to respond by asking, “How do we begin?”

~~

The next morning, ferrying a captured memory, they pensively entered the shop,

Noticing, the first expansive tube now housed, a small slithering shadow

And only a small pile of tattered cloth, were they the remains from a recent devour?…

While their steadfast approach to the fated podium never fully wavered,

They stared into the fractured window, thick webs entangled within their reflection,

An entire weave, of cogitation spiraled out from the eternal darkness of their crowded mind,

They blindly felt for salvation, eclipsed over, rusted shut, left alone on the wasted shore,

Yet a soft corrupted whisper slithered along the nape of the casket, seducing a faint pulse

As the drum of their approach had suddenly halted, from sight beyond their surveillance,

The obscurity-tender’s sudden obstruction, upon the visitor’s scrutinous order,

While entrancing the stale wind back into its stone basket,

A veiled force, easing their firmly tensioned coiled grip around their sight,

As the proprietor slunk out to curtsy in acknowledgement of their returning patron,

“To my delight, you brought what I asked in great haste

For this shall be a nefarious treatment, one I’m eager to embark.”

His grin possessed a hint of deviousness, snuffed down by his furthering remarks,

“There is evil within memories, these tubes, help guide them out so that I may harvest,

While baracading their incessant returns, uninvited, and intrusive,

But to know exactly what needs to be extracted, we must plunge through the depths of your erosion,

With no way to really prepare you…” He twists away his upper body, facing the tube,

“Injections of such alien matters, may have some odd reactions to the environment you present.”

“…you mean to disclose a warning?! That this procedure could mean, my death?”

Deeply sighing through his question, “Your pain stamina will hold up the bridge,

No way to explain what can occur during this intrusive probe,

Hush your concern and calm your nerves, my presence shall guide you through the beyond,

Now, step to the podium to speak of terms.” Continuing to contour,

Pulling his arm away from the tube, directing his acquired patient,

And without further clarity, their approach had been concluded upon placing down the photo,

Their agony, once only possessing warmth, now swings the creaking pendulum,

Entrapment, as he dives into gaze beyond sweet remembrances of companionship,

Tight, as death pulls on those frayed strings of the departed

And chokes the one left to mourn, drowning in their icy clutches,

As a sudden ferocious crash of the grinning salesman’s palm, onto the photograph,

Shakes them loose as the image is encapsulated, living as a new etching upon the podium,

Attempting to lead their hand towards it, the erratic patient snatched it back,

Cradled against their chest, fearing what sinister intentions he meant to administer,

“You must let me guide you towards the grooves of those ember grains

Find the path they create, traverse across, inside your grand hall,

Bestowed upon your sight, as the ferried guide, unbeknownst to you within your cloud.”

They slowly loosened their defenses, releasing the looming mistrust,

Gazing out into the horizon, finding themselves abruptly abroad,

Frozen in fear, they lightly tilted their view below, towards a shoreline,

Pebbles, wrestling below their feet as they nestle down below the crash of a wave,

They were no longer in the shop, they couldn’t grasp ground over where they existed

As they settled into a crouch, peering into the hazy void,

Noticing a faint light, wobbling closer, slinking out into clairvoyance,

Angering the dormant hull, realizing the soft tatter of the pebbles, now a tremor,

A growl expanding higher, as does the cloud, cresting into view,

The dense haze Birthing the shopkeeper, as he glides along the curdling of the jagged current,

Encouraging his Steadfast approach to the perched manic impression,

Embracing his patron within his gaze, he broke through, into their palace,

“Quite the furious entanglement that plagues your escape,

Although, this has the potential of immortal elegance, levitate beyond the hollow hush,

I require you, exposed, don’t lock up, a shop must always stay accessible to their patrons,

Now, allow me to surf along your aisles to browse your mind.”

The grumble grows louder, expanding over itself as the tremors start to splinter the glass,

“LET ME IN!”,  bellowed from deep within the cavernous keep,

Encumbered at the gate, entangled by intrusive clanks from it’s shackles

Hitting hard against the hollow dormancy, where the echo pools,

“LET ME IN!!”, the barrier swallowed whole by his demand,

Transcending their separation, the ferryman, guided beneath stubbornness, dove

Between the shroud and rose in through the splinter in the twined chain weave,

A soft echo emerging within them, finding themselves in absence,

Staring at the familiar ghost, being ferried to the heart of the oblong cased shopkeeper,

Reaching over the tidal push, clinging, to their shared anchor,

Squeezing onto its rickety choke, being ushered outward, stretching, blending with the horizon,

“Fin, to our contracted connection.” They were left upon their island,

Peering out, watching the shopkeeper take a proper, ovational bow,

Opening the land of ranges, and receding the suffocating ocean depths,

~~~

A blurry white, as their eyes fluttered awake, but it was a familiar popcorn ceiling,

They were in their bed, in their room, in the warmth of their domain,

A soft glimmer peeked in, nudging, for attention beyond the blackout curtains,

But something felt out of tilt, within their own cognition, and without precise certainty,

Slowly pried themselves up, crouched over and cradled their percussive hulking awareness,

Ill-equipped to face the labors of the day, they soldiered the forge, for normalcy,

Consumed by collating standard lines, framed by tall padded walls of their cube,

Oblivious to the compatriot, calling for attention at its only escape,

Shaken from the submerged rabbit hole, and dragged back, from their sudden syncope,

“I recognize the delirium, but I don’t recall why, were you a visitor to some crusty shop

Hidden, in plain sight, that promised relief to a crippling grief?”

“My location had eluded me, until you ignited a spark, when you said crusty,

Nails, sharp, tapping finely atop his stage, faintly lit stage left, his pet,

And they STOLE…”, mouth gaping, confused in the emptiness of memory, and just chuckled,

As did the compatriot, and they moved on about the labors of the day.

Around the far corner, and down the hall, across to the other side of the building,

Another grief stricken soul, peaked in, and heard their conversation.

~~~~

“For a successful business such as mine, you should have a deep pocket of coveted referrals,

They come to eradicate the weight, pressuring their grief throughout their mind,

They come to me, for my unforgiving closure, and newfound bliss,

For side effects from services may include short term memory displacement, everlasting,

Only seen by those dawning, a similar hooded cloak, entrapped in their festering grief,

Haunting the moments left to recall the ghost, walking in with it on their shoulders,

Payment due by way of all those clingy poltergeists, food, for my aquarium,

And a small, but generous fee for me, the shopkeeper,

Now, excuse me, my bell has just rung, time to put on my grin.”

Punishment

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

It surrounds us, marinating, in our ignorance,

As we proceed unaware, detached from cognition,

Strung out, in the oblivious, unsuspecting of our ghost,

Clutching, at the dried up leaves, playing in the snowing ash

Until you’re alone, telling yourself, it’s familiar,

You’ve grown into this storm, and become accustomed

To the edge of the moment, waiting to be tipped over,

Hanging on as the ground withers, blends into the fall

And you’re done, regrets crowd the space, you’ve once occupied,

But no matter, there’s plenty to follow those hackneyed mistakes,

Drowning their sadness in shallow waters, black and cold,

Why do we all have our epiphany, when we’re in waste,

Gasping for relief, while they’re burying themselves,

Forcing deliverance further away, for we’re our punisher,

It festers beneath our skin, keeping us a slave

To the rot, as we are all caught in it’s daunting tangle,

Yet, we ignore it all, until it’s deafening growls

Strikes us still, looking back at the missed captures,

Finding ourselves within the break between seconds,

Scared, of who we see reflected back at us, a stranger,

Yet we recognize this shadow, it’s been perched

Above our heads, whispering distractions, leading us to dark,

Deeper into the gullet, until we’re withdrawn,

Alone, telling ourselves, it’s our fault,

For we truly are, our own, worst enemies,

Our focus is on the rest of the world,

That has already passed judgment,

As we carry out our own punishment of self doubt.

Left for the Day

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

The world seems to be mocking me through

This double pane fog, covered by my immobility,

Festering in the inching frost, climbing up my throat,

Drying out, the secreting whisper of warmth,

The sounds emitted by dancing winds, pushing

A blurred island, hosted, by a decaying vampire,

Stretch marks of the swinging pendulum, swoops

A top my brow, cranking closer, as my attention

Bleeds into the veil, softly bouncing

Along the splinter of sanity, so captivating and graceful,

Will she return, as she slipped out through the opening,

The loud hum, of the empty room grows,

Filling my ears, as if I was drowning, gasping

For her, where did she go?

And the outside knows, yet they keep hushed,

As she swings in it’s hammock, keeping her still,

Where did she go?

I lay awake, starring at the flashing light,

Begging the silence to stop, for an echo in my bones,

Where did she go?

Thick strands of her gleam, snuffed out, by the dark,

She’s vanished beyond the stale breath,

Maybe she’ll return with the sun.

Blinded

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

Within her own mind, the world

Is exactly, how she left it, an eroded vessel,

As she became her own empty room, hollowed

By the revolting scenes, highlighted in the flashes

Of immeasurable detestation, and there she floats

Amongst the rubble, her hands stretched out, reaching

Beyond the veil of black, infiltrating the ghost,

Shackles upon her eyes, hides an unclean Era,

A design defect in humanity, a false prophet

For whom, they eradicate for, but who is this savior

That channels themselves into the facade,

Not just a glimmer of their virus, but an apocalyptic

Strain running through Pomplona, ravaging,

The earth, crumbling beneath her,

Tremors, surging through her from the mass panic,

Cries for light from those lost in the shroud

For her, to come and filter out the pain,

But she has absorbed too much, drowning

In violent waters, barely staying above her suffocation,

Until it all consumed her, trampled she still bears

All the affliction of the world,

For everybody knows, that a broken heart, gets blind.

One Star at a Time 

Posted on by the_dorian_poe


The depth that surrounds you can be overwhelming 

to any new voyager, so ease them in by showing

One star at a time and let them discover 

The complex galaxies that have blended together

 To create the vast land that lays before them 

Let the gate open, let down the shield and find 

The courage, sink all doubts to the crushing bottom, 

You don’t need them anymore, 

Float the key above the clouds where stars 

Have aligned for her, sink the disguise kept 

In the back of your mind, 

Float onto the insanity of the galaxies, 

They are what makes is glimmer brilliantly,

Display it all, one star at a time. 

Searching for Control in the Avalanche 

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

I’ve fallen to the hush, as I bleed in the swaddle of distortion, 

Reaching for control, but I’m held back by panic 

Filling my lungs, having Chaos sniff for my scent,

The depths growing as I choke on the cold surrounding me,

The bitter taste engraving itself, on the back of my throat, 

A never ending climb out, prolonged by my crippled

Sight, caught in a violent haze that furthers my damnation 

That is comprised of my most vindictive demons, 

Taunting me in the avalanche, ripping out my voice

With their molten silver talons, dredging up the darkness,

 I’ve been through it all, the battered and bruised victim

Of anarchy in my own halls, shrinking atop of me,

As I fall asleep in that hush over a rat’s nest, nibbling 

At my control, down to the bone, now open to infestation,

Turning my harmony into pandemonium, I see doom

Climbing over the horizon, reaching for my grave,

Creaking is the casket as it opens, letting in mayhem, 

For even in the hush, it is Chaos who sets the stage, 

For Sanity’s gates, have been distorted. 

Devil in the Sea

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

The abandoned sea banks rock the decaying boats

That waver endlessly, against the barren docks,

Once, so alive and populated with thriving catches,

It now resembles a wasteland, long forgotten about,

But has it, just because no foot dares to occupy 

The unattended pier, does is get misplaced

To fend for itself against the punishment of time,

Slowly eroding the town into a whisper, all because 

A mystery beyond the black, the Devil in the sea, 

Its existence, clouded by a myth spread into panic,

A steep decline into oblivion, with no way back,

A horrid stench of rotting death pervading the heavy air, 

The scarred town living under the umbrella

Of this over told fable, to the point where it’s merely

A story told, repeating off different tongues, but

It’s true depth has been diluted, fabricated 

Into a ghost encounter, in which the lone survivor

Still buried in a living grave, wanders the true story

That won’t relinquish its talons from his forgotten mind, 

He has lost recollection of his entire past,

Except his Devil in the sea, which haunts his consciousness, 

It seemed like a distant dream for so long, until decay

Spread over all he knew, and all that was left

Was the glare from the dark empty water, 

On his last day, he started from the dock into the abyss,

Tightened his tie, and fell into the arms of the sea, 

But not before leaving, his telling of what happened, 

The day that had lived in infamy, for a different reason,

“I remember nothing, but the day I came to face

The Devil that roams the sea beside this stink town, 

It’s why I was so attached to the sail, free from the idiots,

I was happy amongst the open serene waters, 

And I knew them well, I navigated every channel, 

Bestowing my knowledge on a young eager sailor,

We would come back with bountiful catches, 

There was nothing better, I’d live in the sea if possible, 

One day, there were talks of an impending storm,

But mere rumbles weren’t going to keep me from my escape, 

I went out with the young lad, despite the warnings, 

In retrospect, I should have never left the dock, 

The winds were forceful, thrusting us off course

Into waters I never sailed, never even seen on any map,

Still within the eye of the storm, we did all that we could

To stay afloat, with gusts of stinging rain beating us,

The boat tipped so far to the side, I lost my grip 

Fell into the choppy ice water, swallowing me whole,

The lad did all he could to lift me out from the devour

Into the unsteady pulsating crumbling boat, 

Slowly vanishing into the storm, blending into chaos,

The thrashing underwater whirlwind tossing me down

Suffocating light, I saw nothing but the end to it all,

As I looked below me, I found a massive shadow 

That appeared as if from the shallow eternal dark, 

This shadow was monstrously big, stretched up towards me

But still, a figure of no distinct character, 

It seemed to have no end, going past the ocean floor

As it nestled me in it’s unlikely arms, to carry me out,

It leaned toward me, and passed me life in a kiss,

The storm settled, as the sun beamed down shining 

Light on an angel, no Devil or monster to fear,

She saved me from the Devil, as I found myself 

Reaching up for my boat, from waters I called home, 

I searched for her, days that melted into night, endlessly, 

So what better way to keep searching, then to die

In the waters that she found me, falling into the story

That has spooked her out of my life, I die to find her,

You’ll only live with a thread, of what you truly desire,

Although you’ll notice it, when it has crashed out

Of existence, pouring out for it, but it’s too late,

It won’t get easier, only more excruciating as you live on,

Searching, for even the slight resemblance, coming up empty.”

Spectacle 

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

They take their seats, waiting for the curtain 

To be pulled apart, to display their emptiness, 

Fixated, on the footsteps coming towards them

Occupying every hollow vacancy of the theater 

As the hum of anticipation follows, growing,

Congesting every row, eager for the blind to see

What they’ve packed into for, the spectacle, 

They’ve all heard from others, how marvelous 

Their experience was, a must see sensation,

They crowed over it, to again be the audience, 

In the midst of the slow decline of light, 

Fighting back their excitement, the stage

Starts to bear the standing spectacle, an error 

Of life, forced out into desolation, humiliated 

Night after night, for the brimming playhouse, 

The erect mush of torn rags and dirt smudges

Captivates, as a roar of laughter from the over 

Privileged ones that waste the high tide

Picking apart the staged impoverished fool, 

But who really sits within the puppet box,

Obedient to a hidden beggar, a crook of crooks, 

Toppling the towers from which they gawk 

At the overwhelmed spectacle, deceiving them,

Crippling their cannibalistic nature, lighting

The still spectacle, showing off it’s destitute 

To the roaring crowd, burying themselves in sin

Night after night, making the show a gratification 

That has astounded the upper streets, in turn

Making the poor spectacle, the biggest success. 

Battle Inside

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

Deep in the seclusion of this forest, lives a boy

And his demon wolf, defending what bonded them

In the inception of light under the lavish canopy

That shields the boy from the harmful spirited,

Until recently, when they have invaded the forest, 

Distorting the peace kept by the spread fable 

Of the haunting by this boy and his demon wolf,

As individual torches, the spirited, illuminates 

The forgotten darkness, cascading forth 

An avalanche of unwanted attention from the outside,

As these innocent looking spirits and their carnivorous

Intentions to breach light in through the eternal eclipse

That has been fought to stay intact by the branches

The boy and his demon wolf sleep under, 

But what spirit stays to itself, that dares not 

Tip the balance to the outside of insanity’s gates, 

So they clash beneath the melting fortress,

Disintegrating stem of suppressed serenity

With every strike upon the boy and his demon wolf, 

More invaders join the thundering collision 

Drying out every river slithering over every conformed 

Foundation stone of this dying hideout, running 

Away deeper into the black forest, enchanted 

By a need to forget, dream and imagine 

That the vivid reality doesn’t exist. 

©DorianPoe2016

Nightmare III

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

My latest post in my nightmare series where reality is bent and horror is limitless. A little more obscure than my other posts. Enjoy! 

I try to spit out what I’ve already swallowed, 

The lingering taste shrinks my tongue

And chokes my gasping regurgitation,

A virus, invading my castle and breaking stone 

To bring me to my knees, as darkness

Hovers over my feeble position, a spider

Approaches casually, surveying my horror, 

It speaks, not to further my horrid torment

But to give warning of those words I spewed, 

It expressed the terror it felt from the echo

Coursing through it’s vast tangeled web 

That I find myself caught in, a strangled prey

Hunted by the ghost I spoke of, reaching for me

In the dwelling light, abandoned by the spider

As I’m the captive of what I said, kept high

In the inverted tower weakened by the slither 

Of my expression, I wear shackles now

Holding me in the center of encapsulation, 

As all around me, looms above my perception

And the web has sunken in, taking me down 

Into the deepening pit, surrounded in torment

In which I hold myself, yelling at me collapsed, 

The spaces in the web fill in with onlookers

That pressure me down into the fathomless 

Making me hear what I said high pitched

Crippling me as all I can do to get away

Is run deeper into the void, looking forward 

Away from the collision of sound and mind, 

Escape being just outside of my grasp

With those words repeating in the tomb

That stretches on into an illusion of end, 

Never feeling the relief of the weight 

Upon my chest in the drowning pit slide off,

It weighs heavier, soaking every passing second

Until I, cease to be able to hold my tongue.