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Writings / Eulogy
« Last post by bahgheera on January 23, 2024, 10:59:53 PM »
You spoke Heaven
But you brought Hell.
Writings / Dust in the Mirror
« Last post by bahgheera on September 24, 2023, 08:20:36 AM »
The Dust Witch is in the mirror,
She screams at me from inside
She sits on a filthy pig
And bellows bizarre utterances.

Her eyes are sewn shut
With cords of cursed leather
Made from the hide of demons
And sewn with a needle of bone
From a bog man
Whose flesh had been stripped clean
By time and hatred.

Writings / Experience in the Middle of Nowhere
« Last post by bahgheera on September 22, 2023, 09:20:00 AM »
Today I drove back to the hotel from work. It was a rainy morning, but the sun was rising in the east and completely unobscured by clouds. To the east, a picturesque sunrise and to the south, clouds and rain.

After a non-eventful drive I arrived at the hotel - a plain establishment not worth the exorbitant amount charged for a stay, but decent enough that I didn't balk at the cost. You know the type of place. Not a mom and pop, but it's doubtful that the corporate office has much oversight out here in the middle of nowhere.

I walked in through the lobby - usually I go in at the side door because it's closer to the stairs, but today I wanted to grab something to eat for breakfast. In the breakfast area, were two mean old ladies with Brooklyn accents wearing their housecoats and hair in rollers. A third mean old lady with a Brooklyn accent and wearing her housecoat with her hair in rollers soon joined them. They began croaking around the kitchen area, looking for anything that the hotel didn't offer in the way of breakfast.

I grabbed a microwavable sausage biscuit and headed up to my room to eat breakfast and then pass out.
Writings / True Love
« Last post by bahgheera on May 08, 2015, 10:46:04 PM »
What if we were never meant to be,
What if we never had a chance to make it?
What if the day we met,
Was some kind of cosmic accident,
And the way things should have worked out,
Was that we missed each other,
By the smallest fraction of a second,
I looked right,
When I should have looked left,
And we went our separate ways,
None the wiser?
What if we were coming home one night,
Very late, way past midnight,
And I took that turn too fast,
Lost control of the car,
Rolled it into the woods,
And we died a fiery death,
And everything we've experienced since,
Was simply the last lingering vestiges
Of our spirits,
Dreaming some sort of ghostly fantasy,
Of all the good that might have been?
In spite of all that,
I'd still love you just the same.
Writings / Knee Jerk Reviews #1
« Last post by bahgheera on April 18, 2015, 07:02:01 AM »
The X-Files S06E02: Drive

Walter White, who has apparently been working down at the shipyard recently, loses his mind and hijacks Mulder's car at gunpoint. Walter must get the antidote for his atrocious 70's hairstyle before that mustache of his becomes sentient and a threat to the whole human race. Will Scully produce the antidote in time?
Writings / The Drag
« Last post by bahgheera on December 02, 2014, 02:22:09 PM »
I've got a good job,
A beautiful wife,
Lovely children,
And we all live in a nice neighborhood.
I have friends galore,
People are so nice,
Most would do anything for me.
I want for nothing,
Life is beautiful
All the time,
Perfection has been attained.

And it's such a drag.

I'm going to leave it all behind,
Say goodbye
To the wife and kids.
I'm going to move to Sweden,
And become a death metal singer,
Paint dark makeup
Around my eyes,
Dye my hair black,
Start smoking cigarettes,
Start drinking more,
Smoke some crystal meth,
Think about death, a lot.
All the time, even.

I wonder
If the kids
Would buy my cd.
Writings / My Special Camera
« Last post by bahgheera on April 28, 2014, 11:48:34 AM »
I have a camera,
That's very old.
It's special.
It doesn't just take
A picture of things you can see,
It takes pictures of things
You don't want to see.

It's made of stone,
From the bottom of the river
That divided Babylon.
It records its terrible images
On film made of ancient paper
Boiled in the pot
Of a Haitian Voodoo witch doctor.
The lens was plucked,
From the eye of a long-dead Pharaoh,
Who knows what horrors
That lens has focused before
It was even placed in the camera.

I aim the camera at a man or a woman,
And press the shutter release,
It captures not the physical form of the subject,
But it records the soul,
The spirit, the ghost,
The what-the-will-become
If left to their own devices.

Never show the image
To the subject it photographed,
For this is surely
The way to madness.
Writings / The Dream
« Last post by bahgheera on March 20, 2014, 07:57:47 AM »
I've been having dreams lately. Well, the same dream over and over to be more accurate. The same horrible dream. I thought it was cool the first time I had it, being a fan of horror movies, but now there is nothing I wouldn't do to stop having this dream night after night, every night.

The dream starts with me just hanging out alone at home, not doing much of anything. Some nights I waste by watching crappy shows on television, some nights I'm reading a classic science fiction book by Isaac Asimov or Harry Harrison, sometimes in the dream I'm making dinner - it's almost always ramen noodles with a bit of chopped green onions, hard-boiled egg, pork and seaweed - a great meal for a dream or for reality. There is always the feeling that I am not normal, that I am the sort of person who is a little slow, a little helpless and not very apt at taking care of myself.

A sudden, blinding headache, a picture on the wall that I notice and can never seem to quite make out, and then a phone call that bursts into the dream like a ruined bell falling down the tower of a long abandoned church. The dreaded phone call. The phone call is where the dream goes bad, every time.

"Hello?" I say.

"Hello Bob. You ready to go?" says the voice on the line.

"Sure." My usual reply. I don’t know why I don’t just tell him no.

Fifteen minutes later there is a knock on the back door. He never comes to the front door. I open it and he walks in. "Hi Bob, jump in the car and let's go, I have a big night planned for us tonight."

"OK Bob" I say. "I'm ready."

We get in the car and Bob drives somewhere. It is always somewhere far away, around an hour or so, sometimes two. Sometimes we drive to a house, or a grocery store, or a mall. Wherever we go, it is to find someone. A person. Someone that Bob can do horrible things to.

One time Bob followed a guy from the grocery store to what was apparently the office he worked in. He went inside and came back a few minutes later, dragging the guy, unconscious, and put him in the back of the van. Then he dissolved the guy in a barrel of acid.

In another dream he told me that the lady in the house we visited was turning into a zombie and he crept inside her house through the sliding glass door in the back, and stabbed her in the back of the head with a replica samurai sword while she sat in front of her television. Then he dismembered her, chopped her into little bits and bones, and left the pieces scattered all over her house and yard. Before we left I saw her hand, lying on the bathroom floor, twitch seven times.

Another time Bob noticed a skateboarder kid at the mall, and he simply waited till the kid skated into a dark area behind the place and mowed him down with the van, speeding off before attracting attention from anyone.

Every time I have this terrible dream, I try to stop Bob. But he is insane, the worst kind of insane - a powerful insanity - and he won't listen to me. It's that feeling, that dream feeling, where you feel like you're underwater and moving in slow motion, like you're drugged and can barely move, that feeling of complete helplessness where you can't change what's happening, simply observe with a sinking feeling the frightful events unfolding in front of you and try to feel sympathetic towards Bob's victim of the day and try not to weep like a child, try not to experience the guilt that comes with not being able to do anything to prevent what’s happening. The running in slow motion feeling, like you're being pursued by a nameless evil and no matter how fast you move your legs you just can't seem to put any distance between you and the demon that's chasing you down the hallway of the house you grew up in. That's how I feel when Bob is committing his nightly atrocities on the poor, unsuspecting innocent public.

I can't have this dream anymore. I refuse. I don't know why my brain plagues me with this nightly hallucination. I figure the only way to stop myself from dreaming the dream is to stay awake. I’m taking caffeine pills and I drank a couple of Red Bulls. I have a Five Hour Energy drink here too, in case the pills and Red Bulls don't last all night. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I've been awake for almost fifty hours now.

You know, now that I think of it, I'm not really sure if I was asleep all those nights or not.

Hold on, there's the phone...
Writings / While You're Awake
« Last post by bahgheera on February 06, 2014, 11:03:51 PM »
Be careful
During the day,
As you go about
Your daily routine,
Conversing with friends, family, loved ones.
Be careful what you say,
Who you talk about.
Because the people in your dreams
Can hear you talking
While you're awake.
Writings / Scabs In My Ears
« Last post by bahgheera on February 06, 2014, 11:00:13 PM »
You are near me,
I can hear the rustling
Of the rags you wear,
Of the dirty coat
Made of dusk,
That brushes your feet
As you walk,
I can smell the foulness
The rank atmosphere,
That follows you far and wide.
I can see you,
Covered in the blackness
Of a wronged soul,
Painted with filth and ashes and soot.
You sit beside me
Whispering in my ear,
Fluttering syllables into my head,
Breathing sounds,
That assemble themselves
Into fearful words
Inside my mind,
Once there, erupting from
A cocoon of thoughts
Like a moth made of smoke,
With red lights in it's eyes,
Bent on destruction.
You tell me all sorts of things.
Your words are strangely beautiful,
Darkly poetic and shaped like shadows,
But your message is dark
And powerful,
And the words that fly
From your mouth to my ear,
Carry daggers and storms and monsters
Straight into my consciousness.
It makes my soul dark
And wilted and disfigured.
Go away.
I don't want you anymore today.
Come back tomorrow.
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