So normally I just post a link to the blog but I feel like sharing this one out there for the world. This is what happens when I get another rejection on the job front, am reading Kafka, and four days off of real cigarettes. As the title implies this is also a tribute to three great authors.
Infernal Metamorphosing Raven
Toiling with form ten ninety-nine extended, due on time and un-amended. I pondered with a heart so leery, an interminable existence grown quite dreary. My head did bob, nearly napping, when suddenly there came a tapping as of someone gently rapping, rapping on my front room door. Drunkenly lurching I vehemently swore to throw it open and find my best friend Lenore. Unusual attire I inspected as some ruse may go undetected under the scandalous thing she wore. A patent leather string bikini covered in steel studs quite unseemly, only this and nothing more. To my hand she a long sword extended. “Come with me so your family life not be ended.” Mysterious and womanly was that bitch Lenore.
Extending her hand, which had offended, spoke a word and space was rended to emit a fiery infernal door. With laws of physics so transcended, to the top a sign appended by imp or succubustic whore. Words in Latin quite outdated my scholarly mind at once translated, “Fallen angel express portal, abandon hope to enter mortal.” The legend this damned egress bore. At Lenore I expressed a hunch, this vile journey would cost me lunch. Though my scorn be gently born her eyes upon me wished flesh be torn. With wit acerbic and quite quick she thus expressed I was a dick. “I owe your family a settled score. Thus you are an ass and nothing more.”
Pack animal could I be, when need arose, thus I descended with my hellish rose, into a world of enigmatic throes, watching for any sign of an exit door. Though my terror be quite extended, by the copious sweat and blood Lenore expended she walked on stoically as if all were a bore. Through nine levels she did dance, my own survival was mere chance, eventually I spared a glance and understood how little she wore. Little armor was imparted from the souls both damned and departed but instead shielded her from a hefty bill of drycleaning off, after the kill, the black and ichorous gore. For in truth her hair and skin with fluids be lathed her simple outfit was almost saved. A truth unshared by me, I witnessed with horror.
Through fields of carnage we two fleeted and it was to the devil justice was meted. In middle battle grown quite heated Lenore’s arms were soon depleted and to her I passed the sword I bore. In pitched battle I was uneducated, that simple act my guilt abated, I was simply squire and thus not sore. To this day I still wonder, why my family Satan chose to plunder, there is a whole world to be torn asunder. I must confess, my family frivolous, but as for sins… they read not even Gor! In my declining years grandchildren listen with intrepid fears to the courting tale of I and my Lenore. Were you not afraid, asked in voices staid. An avenue I will not explore, “They were my family, nothing more.”
Oh, and @ellowrites this one is for all you folks who share so much.