Hammer Films Proudly Presents!

Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature

'Tis drawing near the midnight hour,
on this Halloween eve.
And you know what that means.
It is time for the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Cheesy grade b- horror flicks.
The worst I've ever seen.
And yet I keep on coming back.
To the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

The Day the Earth Stood Still and Tarantula,
Forbidden Planet and It Came from Outer Space
Some of the worst movies ever made
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

The Kiss of the Vampire was campy,
and Dracula's Daughter was bad.
But they still hold you like a spell,
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

I've never seen worse filmography,
than that displayed in Them.
But its still so much fun to watch
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Now that Zacherle's gone,
and so is Vincent Price, Elvira has taken the stage.
To announce Ed Wood's Plan 9 from Outer Space
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

A macabre mix
of Sci-fi and bad horror
But it holds me so,
The Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Well Bela Lugosi is dead,
and Karloff's entombed,
Who is gonna play those roles?
Time to find out on the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Hey they had color then,
So why are these films all
filmed in black and white?
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Bosco syrup is blood
and Jell-O is brains
Every Halloween
On the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature

These movies are terrible,
and campy as anything
So why do I keep on coming back?
To the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Hey be quiet back there,
The hand is on
and everyone knows what that means
Its once again time for the Late Night Chiller Theatre Double Feature.

Hallow's E'en

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
I have to perform the chore of taking my little brother trick or treating,
the small ghoul that he shall be, in his black and purple robe.
It is my duty to protect him, and keep him safe.
He feels that it is my duty to help him get the most possible candy.

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
My radio station is playing Halloween Garage Rock,
from such unknowns as The Fuzztones, The Mummies,
The Kingsmen and Screaming Lord Such.
And yes, it's true, "I walked with a Zombie last night*."

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
It is my job, as the resident "AH-tist" in my house,
To design the Jack O' Lantern. My brother wants scary,
my father wants simple, as he must carve my design.
I cannot be limited in such a way, (Perhaps I shall choose
a raven) for I am the resident "AH-tist."

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
Oh, how I miss John Zacherle.
The best part of my Hallow's E'en.
On CBS FM, he used to be, when I was little.
I'd get back from my Trick or Treating,
all hopped up on candy, and he would be on.

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
It is my family tradition to read some Poe,
some Service, and The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carrol.
It is my calling to read The Cremation of Sam McGee,
and The Shooting of Dan McGrew. "For the northern lights have
seen queer sights but the queerest they ever did see, was that night on the
marge of Lake Le Barge, where I cremated Sam McGee...*"

It is a week until Hallow's E'en.
The Hallow's E'en specials are on.
"It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown"
"Garfield's Halloween"
and some new ones I've never seen.
But it's all right, for it is one week until Hallow's E'en

*Author's Note:
The quotations are as follows, in order of appearance:
I Walked with a Zombie by Roky Erickson and the Aliens
The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service

The Comic Book Store

There is no place on earth like it,
A haven for nerds and geeks.
It is the comic book store.
There is no smell like a comic book store,
The freshness of new comics,
The crisp paper of books,
The walls of action figures.
There is no place on earth like it.
It is the comic book store.
A haven for all people.
Wouldn't it be a better world,
if there were more comic book stores?
It is the one place where all nerds
Can come together, regardless of likes.
Otaku are present, and Marvel-ites;
As well as Trekkies, and Jedi;
DCphiles and Dark Horses.
It is a haven for all.
There is no place on earth
quite like the comic book store.

Alice from Wonderland (An attempt at Whimsical Poetry inspired by Lewis Carrol's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)

Whilst I was walking in the park,
I did suddenly espy,
A hole in a tree 'bout 6 inches high.
Cut clean into the bark.

At first I watched in wonderment
As a girl stepped out the door
But to my surprise she grew in size
The second her feet hit the floor.
My mouth gaped in puzzlement.

How could this be so?
What could happen
To make her grow?
When suddenly I heard a tappin'

The tappin' came from the tiny door,
Out of which stepped a faerie
The faerie folk stepped clean out of that withered oak
And it was kinda scary
To see a faerie straight out of tales of lore.

When suddenly I did ope my eyes
I looked out from my bleary countenance
And boy was I sure surprised
That straight from my childhood experience
Stood Alice straight from Wonderland!

Deja Vu

It must be deja vu.
It feels like I'm young again
And I'm walking down the same long hall.
And she walks by, just as before.
She catches my eye and smiles shyly.
I catch her eye, and smile shyly.
But I walk away, and nothing happens.
It must be deja vu.
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again...
...again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again
It must be deja vu.
I walk away, and nothing happens.
I catch her eye and smile shyly.
She catches my eye and smiles shyly.
And she walks by, just as before.
It feels like I'm young again.
It must be deja vu.
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again...
...again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again
It must be deja vu.
It's now today.
I'm sitting at a table,
Talking with a girl I've seen before.
Talking of everything and nothing.
All happening just as it did before.
It must be deja vu.
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again,
Again, again, again, again, again...
...again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again,
again, again, again, again, Again
It must be deja vu.
All happening just as it did before.
Talking of everything and nothing.
Talking with a girl I've seen before.
I'm sitting at a table.
It's now yesterday.
It must be deja vu.

My Shadow

I tear away my mask,
my skin, my flesh.
The shadow
Inside of me
Takes over, with his
glowing red eyes
and cheshire cat smile.
He laughs as his
dark aura paralyzes
passerby with fear.
"I am your nightmares
the bogeymen in your closet",
the shadow croons,
"I am why you fear the dark."
But then the light returns,
trapping the dark inside.
And my face returns
with my golden eyes
masking the fire within.
The nightmare ends,
I wake up screaming
and then realize its all ok,
it was just a nightmare.

Erga Or Puella

Prius Pars

Lubricus mihi notitia submensa
Donec ego eram reputo tripartiens suus vestio
Eram timidus eo verto absems
Prae est capio meus oculus
Ego eram crispus in meus pes
Aliquis fueram a habitum in mihi
Ut illa obduco iuxta.

Alter Pars

Insideo vehiculum ego iustus non exspecto
Sumo vos sursum in nostrum valde primoris balanus
Est frigus si ego habitum vestri manus?
Secus vos coniecto ut ego nare acta teneo quis ut gero?
Ego sum quoque vix of quis vos reputo planto mihi formido
Sic ego vere nequeo epulum.

Time for Immortals

Swiftly does time flow for the immortals.

A day is a heartbeat and a minute is forever.

An eternity in the moment

The moment in eternity.

Time marches on. Seconds ticking away.

The background blurs,

and the moment becomes sepia toned,

like an old photograph.

It's like a western, with the moment in the sun

before they draw stretched infinitely.

For immortals, there is no time.

There is only the infinite now

and the subjective past.

The library slows down.

The background blurs,

whilst the foreground

remains crisp and perfect.

There is the flash of a taken photo

and the present is preserved eternally.

Maybe someday, in the future,

10,000 years from now, more or less,

someone will find the photo of the immortal.

And stare in wonder, about the signifigance.

What does it mean, this photo of the immortal?

Why would anyone take a picture of the moment,

when in truth it is a photo, spaghettified,

dragged into infinity, the moment,

Forever in the life of an immortal.

Gabriel: A Flash Fiction in 7 Parts

I do not want to wantonly destroy. I have done it far too many times. But it is my duty. I have watched in vain as people repeated the same mistakes. I see it now in America. I see echoes of the bread and circuses of Rome, the grandeur of Egypt, the debauchery of Greece, and the arrogance of ancient Israel. Why do humans refuse to learn from the lessons of their own history. They see the mistakes, say never again, and yet continue to replay the same drama. No longer will they be able to make mistakes. Tonight Styx overflows!

I Remember

I remember my first Mideval fair,
with pageantry and jousting.
It changed my life forever.

I remember reading Beowulf,
when I was only 10.

I remember The Lord of the Rings,
both the books and the movies.

I remember my first poem published.

I remember first watching Star Trek
when I was only 4,
With my yellow shirt and wooden chair.

I remember Star Wars, back in '97.
Remastered in theaters.
Starting with 4.

I remember my first action figure.
It was Luke Skywalker.

I remember when my brother was born,
Back in 1999.

I remember my dad reading to me.
I remember the New Millenium.
I remember Y2K.
I remember starting elementary school.
I remember my first new friend.
I remember starting High School,
with a stomach full of butterflies.
I remember graduation,
tears streaming down my cheeks.
I remember Model UN and the
friends I made there.

I remember so much history.
Family vacations, fun places.
I remember day trips to the city.
I remember museums and movies.
I remember many birthdays, shared and separate.

I remember the story of my life.

Love Poem

THIS IS NOT A LOVE POEM!
You'll find here no pretty words.
No metaphor. No simile.
No Shakespearean comparison.
THIS IS NOT A LOVE POEM!

I have............................................................. been loved.
I have............................................................. loved.
Never............................................................. simultaneously.
I have shared no tender moments
No cutesy Facebook photos.
This is not a love poem.
My heart is scarred and oft broken.
Still it beats, pumping blood.
Feeding the beast.
My hopes and dreams............................................................. destroyed,
............................................................. broken, ............................................................. fragmented,
Destroyed by the one spoken word,............................................................. ............................................................. The word no man wants to hear.............................................................
The quietly spoken............................................................. oft uttered............................................................. "No."
The words no one ever spoke to me .............................................................
"I love you"

I was thinking about what to write for a blog post for a while. I started to listen to my iPod and by coincidence the song was Vicarious by Tool. The video for this song is below. It's a great song but as with all Tool songs the video is extremely wierd. It made me think of Mike.

Vicarious is the property of Tool, and Tool Dissectional/Volcano Entertainment.

Gabriel: A Flash Fiction in 7 Parts

This is my seventh life on Earth. This is the 7th time I have been sent to experience life. I am the harbinger of doom. I destroyed Israel, Egypt, Greece, Rome and many others. Now I am bringing the final end of the world. The seven deadly sins are running rampant, and God is displeased. I was sent to unleash the plagues. I was sent to free the horsemen. My name is Gabriel and I am an angel.

The Watchmen

In their marble towers the lords of men sit
Watching, always watching, the lives of
The people they lord over. They hold us
Transfixed, like butterflies on a pin
They laugh as we live and die, love and hate
They do not comprehend us, these once-men
They are the Watchers, the Watchmen
They stare, waiting for humanity to cry for help
Their faces are indeterminate, changing on a whim
They see our great streets as gutters, full of debris
We are naught to them, these gods-among-men
Yet they live among us, as one of us and we do
Not see. Perhaps that is why they watch and we
Ignore all save that which immediately concerns
Us, the pathetic remains of a fragmented humanity.
One day we laud them and thank them, the next
We riot, causing them to come down from above
And control, as they always do. For they are the
Watchmen, and they await the end.

They are the Watchmen. They saw all.
Now their towers are ruins. They were right
We would need them, and now that they
Are gone we need them more. They laugh
From the heavens above, as we beg
And they whisper “No. We shall not help.
We only watch. You say you need us not,
So we shall no longer help you. It is yours”
And we weep, as our cities are destroyed,
One by one we destroy each other, and
They but watch, for that is their job.
We made them pathetic shells of
Themselves, we made them what they are.
And when all hope is lost, they will laugh.
They shall have the last laugh. For as they
Were first, they shall be last. They alone
Were brave enough to stare into the blackness
Were strong enough to resist the dark.
They are the Watchmen.
They see all.

If they are the Watchmen, who watches over them?

Ozymandias (Inspired by Horace Smith)

Ozymandias

In the days of lore as t’was told long ago
There was no man more feared than the mighty
Ozymandias, the King of Kings. He stands now,
Half lost in the sandy wastes of Egypt, half-
Buried by the shifting sands. His mighty legs
Stand, torn off above the calf. His shattered
Head lays yards away. The pedestal, with
Giant feet, reads simply “I am the Great
Ozymandias, the King of Kings; this mighty
City shows the wonders of my hands”
His trunkless legs stand, no city stands behind
Him, yet he still stands. This forgotten king, this
Ozymandias, has vanished much as his statue has.
What had this Ozymandias wrought? This forgotten
King of yesteryear, this Ozymandias is gone, as is
His city. Ozymandias stands steadfast before a
Shattered city, its components laid bare. Had
Ozymandias broken this city? What had transpired here?
What had Ozymandias sacrificed? Had this bygone lord
Of a long forgotten past, stood on the verge of Armageddon,
And sacrificed himself and his people, for the greater good?
Who is Ozymandias? What had he done? Had this fearsome
Potentate stared down the end of his age, and with a wry
Smirk on his brow, had he not surrendered, and watched
As his city was destroyed? Ozymandias, who art thou?
Ozymandias, stands alone in the desert, his stony
Face stares out o’er the great expanse, and his frozen
Lips speak the words “I am Ozymandias, King of Kings”

NOTE: The first quotation is from Horace Smith's Poem Ozymandias.

Beach

Squawking seagull flys
Flys over the beach. King of the sky.
Waves continue to crash.

I Hate the Beach

I despise the beach.
I'm the Scrooge of beaches.
Too much sand, freezing water.
Flying rats circle like buzzards.
I hate the beach.
I don't tan. I burn.
The air is cold.
The sun is concealed by the clouds.
I hate the beach.
I'm the Scrooge of beaches.
I hate them.
I hate them.
I despise beaches.
I hate the beach.
The sand is in my shoes.
It's on my pants.
My socks are wet.
I hate the beach

I Hate Haikus

I really hate haikus.
All of these strictures and rules.
I DESPISE HAIKUS!

The Good Old Days

In my youth:
I was younger.
Times were simpler.
I had more hair.
There was no Rock and Roll.
Everyone respected their elders.
I walked 3 miles to school, uphill both ways.
We got mail more than once a day. And not all of it was bills!
There were no seat belts.
Dates were chaperoned.
Wars were actually WON!
When I was young.

7 Deadly

Do you know your sin?
I know mine.
I am Envy, Pride and Wrath.
Do you know your sin?
I kinda like all 7.
Lust, Sloth, Gluttony,
Wrath, Greed, Pride,
Envy. The 7 deadly sins.

The Epitaph of a Lonely Guy

This is my tale, let it be a warning to you:

I was born alone.
I died alone.
In between I was lonely.
No friends. No loves.
All alone.
An eternity of lonelyness,
Punctuated by more lonelyness.
This is the epitaph of a Lonely Guy.

Here Lies A Lonely Guy

Golden Age: A Tale of a Changed America part 3: Right Wing

1950. Sen. Joe McCarthy and his hunt for Reds hiding in American Society. The greatest symbol of this time is Right Wing, McCarthy's personal hound. Right Wing was poised to become the new War Hawk of this turbulent Post-War time. But Truman shot down McCarthy's candidate. So Right Wing began to take his vengeance. He hunted down and killed numerous people he claimed were Commies, and used McCarthy's name as his authority. But it all changed when he started to target the Senators who denied his petition to become War Hawk. Right Wing had gone from good to bad, hunting down and killing many American citizens. He became a public enemy, and started to commit other crimes. Burglaries, murder, torture. These were his new duties. He quickly killed 13 Senators and robbed industrialist Howard Hughes blind. He tortured a family for 3 days because he felt that they were Reds.

The Government quickly shut down Right Wing. The file says he is a complete psychopath. That is inaccurate. Right Wing is a sociopath.

In 1963 he broke out of a Sanitarium, and he hasn't been heard of since.

But the 1960s saw the rise of a new type of hero: the Super-Hero. The 60's also saw another type of hero: the shadowy figures known only as Blank and Wickerman.

I Ate a Raisin

I ate a raisin.............................................................................................................................................
.......................I watched it.......................................................................................................................
............................................I smelled it...................................................................................................
................................................................I felt it.......................................................................................
............................................................................I proceeded to lift it to my mouth............................
...............slowly................an inch at a time................................................................I felt it on my tongue...................I was mindful only of the raisin.......................I let the aroma drown me.......
...................I tasted the sweetness.............................I ate a raisin.

My Disease

There's a war inside me...............................................................
........................and its tearing me apart
All those things.................................................................................I never said are eating me from inside................................................................................All those times I was told I'm like a brother to them........................................All these things are my disease...........And it's mine alone...........................................................I wish I could tear out my heart.................................................................................It causes me pain.
This is ..............................................my war. ............................This........................................is.................................
MY .................................................................................DISEASE

Self-Titled

I watch your lives collapsing every single night.
Puppets on a string to dance for my delight.

You look towards the sky as you prepare to die.
Lightning forks across a darkened sky.
And a silhouette appears.
Its mine you see, with glowing eyes
And strings from each long finger.
Smiling as your life ebbs away.
It is the Master of Puppets you see.

I watch your lives collapsing every single night.
Puppets on a string to dance for my delight.

I plan your life, from the cradle to the grave.
Your convictions, afflictions, addictions.
Acted from my script.
Your loves, your losses and your emotions.
From the pages of my book.

I watch your lives collapsing every single night.
Puppets on a string to dance for my delight.

You bow down before me in your final moments.
Accepting the facts that I control you.
That I'm the Master of Puppets
And it is I who pulls your strings.

Golden Age (A Tale of a Changed America): Part 1 The War Hawk

Prologue
This is the story of an America that never existed. It is built as ours is, and operates as ours does, with one exception. This America has masked heroes, and super-men that fight for their country, in war and peace. This America begins much as ours does with one exception. Its history truly begins in the year 1774. Around the time of the Stamp Act and the Quartering Acts that precipitated the historic Boston Tea Party, as well as the Boston Massacre, the first of a breed made his appearance. This is the story of the War Hawk.

The War Hawk Cometh…
A man wearing a distinctive outfit lurked in the shadows of an alley. He wore a tricorn hat, a mask to obscure his eyes, a blue jacket with white stars emblazoned on it, a red coat and white breeches. He cut a dramatic figure in these troubled times. He then proceeded to enter the house adjacent to the alley. He knew that the home quartered British regulars, intended to squash the rebellious spirit of the port of Boston. He knew that the soldiers would fail. In his actions tonight, he would spark rebellion through the colonies. The War Hawk made his move. He kicked down the door to the house and slaughtered the soldiers silently. He wrote on the walls Sic Semper Tyranus. He would strike a blow from which the British Empire would never recover. At Concord, he stood with the minutemen and helped crush the British troops there. He became a rallying symbol for the embattled republic. He allowed the Americans to crush the British in battle after battle, finally ending the war, and becoming a symbol of the fledgling United States of America. The War Hawk retired, as there was now no war for him to fight. Years later, the weakened British Empire tried to fight America again, and as before she lost. Britain lost control, and America became a new Empire, controlling much of Canada, many other British colonies in the Caribbean.
1861 brought war back to America. The election of Abraham Lincoln sparked a rebellion in the southern states, causing secession and the beginning of bloody civil war. Lincoln drafted the Super-Patriot Act, thus creating a new War Hawk. This War Hawk again became a rallying point, causing many victories. However, the shattered remains of the once mighty British Empire came to the aid of the South, dragging out the war, and allowing the South to win some major battles, including at Bull Run. However France came to the aid of the Union, crushing both the Confederacy and the fragmented British Empire. In 1865,the former President of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis, attempted to assasinate Lincoln at his second Inaugural. However, the crack heard throughout the streets was not the crack of gunfire. It was the crack of an arm being broken. War Hawk had prevented the assasination of President Lincoln, and destroyed the once powerful leader of the Confederacy.

From then on War Hawk had become a major force in America, fighting in every war. However, in 1923, everything would change. It would mark the dawn of a new phenomena, a team of vigilantes known as the Riyot Squad.

The Wall?

Is that a Wall?
Who built it?
Will it ever fall?
Does it separate us?
As individuals?
As a group?
Does it even exist at all?
Who's to say?
It's just the Wall.

Monsters

All blank edges are filled in,
No monsters now,
Save those within.



Perhaps the monsters under your bed grew up too?
Maybe they're still stalking you?

Ongoing Assessment