on the poor chap
he does try
he runs so fast
it’s so sad that
for it’s hard to run away
with the mirror, mirror
i believe in God
just like the demons.
i’m one step closer
than the heathens.
but the flames are higher
where my path’s leading,
signs of hope are
and i’m to blame
for i’m the devil
raiser of hell,
the first of rebels.
i forgot it all
when cast to this level,
by amnesia, a concussion
now seeing several.
i’m seeing double,
what once was trouble
is now my trident.
my right hand holds up,
wields and guides it,
seeing that the saints
stay still and silent.
Unlike a magician, I reveal my tricks.
I shoot from the hip until one of them sticks,
With just a flick of the wrist. You’re like all the rest.
You’re a pawn, all gone, and I’m one of the best…
If not THE best. I’m just so clever.
I’m so great and wonderful. Humble, never.
Because I’m so much better, bitter, fettered.
In chains, bound tight, to villainy lettered.
Spelled out before you in the worst cursive,
Submitted carved in curses, subversive,
Words conversing, in verses, bursting
Out in clouds, in clods of emerging..
Hateful, hurtful, wordful flames,
That’s where I sear, I scorch my name.
I live in infamy in the midst of the fame,
Basking, bathing in my villainous reign.
And I laugh at the way, you think you can stop
My plan. Understand your heroics are not
Well-formed, or informed. In fact, I’m shocked
That my archenemy is so unlearned and untaught.
Unlike this noose for you I’ve got…
here’s a clue
i give to you.
a gift to use
if you so choose.
a pen so thin
so sent, so bent,
a page procured,
unleash the beast
inferred, in furor.
a mirror merely
to fan flames fast
and far familiarly.
Oh, such a laugh,
Indeed, I have.
It churns, it burns,
It chaffs my half
Of face I save
For happy days
When I’m away
From all these graves.
The other, its brother,
Its frozen gaze,
A murderous eye,
And lips so raised,
In silent rage,
Chases my laughter
Into the caves,
That were my eyes
Now vacant, lie
Where shadows paddle
Above a grin
So pale and thin,
So wide. Too high,
Its stretching ends.
Now is the winter
Of my discontent,
Hiss, at the glimpse,
The looking glass,
I cower, shudder as
I go past.
The freak, I see
The beast is me.
A raging war in time
Made to scare,
Made to creep
Softly, silence on
To make dogs growl,
And people skittish,
A darkened villain, so
Just the beginning,
In the making,
An enemy rising up,
Spider Phibes is a pseudonym for the poems I’ve written in the horror/slasher poetry genre. His character is borne of the likes of Dr. Moriarty, Richard III, and the Joker.
“And therefore since I cannot prove a lover
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.”
-Shakespeare, Richard III (I.i.1–40)
“What’s that sound,” they scream. I pound
My fist into, and through, the crown
Of their head, it sheds. When it rains, it pours,
The trick to cooperation is using force.
Of course, my source is my surroundings,
Which is how I dine in the dark profoundly,
Perchance, by chance, I laugh too loudly,
But I invite my blight to increase the bounty.
For I need meat, beef makes me complete,
A villain is only filling the void of a bleak
Necessity, necessarily created unique,
Twisted terribly to be made obsolete.
ice cold, my breath like smoke,
it’s for this that i awoke,
to see the flames, destroy deranged,
by the wrath that i invoke.
it is so strange, so out of place,
to see such violent fire,
in the midst of snow, in winter’s hold,
so coldly, i admire.
burn little spark, alone in the dark,
hypnotize and demoralize.
find them trying, find them crying,
and devour them with your eyes.
im waiting, watching the whispering clock,
with its little hands pointing what time it is not.
to an anomaly, the point that’s between
the past and the future that’s never seen.
that can never be. it’s just a dream,
a man-made myth, long-suffering.
paths can’t be chosen. they’re frozen to be,
your plans and demands all mean nothing.
scream against your bonds, it’s an oddity,
for life is a line toward tragedy,
a trainwreck, that is, humanity,
with its temporal joys in fallacies.