We can make this a
Sex dungeon, easy. Just throw
A mattress on the
Floor and turn out the
Light. Then, start screaming and I
Will come and find you.
Author: Simon Vaughn, MD
The Tower
We were going to
Make a name for ourselves. We
Went up the tower
To say the word, and
Then BOOM! Thunderbolt.
We all got knocked out.
I sat up, and I couldn’t
Say the word. I looked around.
Jack was mumbling. Me?
“Mem.” Billy said “Gol.”
Only a syllable for
Us. We went back down.
Everything fallen.
We went our separate ways.
Scattered forever.
Lot’s Wife
Let’s call her Lottie.
She just watched her whole life in
Flames, Sheol on earth.
Her husband offered
Her daughters to be raped to
Appease wickedness.
Sole survivors of
Genocide, and she was left
Alive? Her? How was
She to live? Darkness,
No hint of a savior. She
Wisely turned to salt.
Railways
I got on a train.
I climbed to the top row and
Tried to find a place
To sleep. At last found
I a spot, on the advice
Of a mother and
Daughter. Quickly as
The train started to chug, I
Spilled from my seat to
The floor. This was not
A passenger train, but for
Livestock and cattle.
For years I had tried
To stand off from the herd, and
With them I would die.
German Angels
Walking, a young man
Told me about his strange quest
For the lost German
Angels. I replied
In the keine Deutsche I
Knew, and then was I
Met by his maiden
Sister, who wanted to thank
Me for my kindness
And also to bear
My children. I made plans to
See her the next day,
Conscious that I had
Forgotten to wear my ring.
When I came to the
Dinner, the maiden
And her sister were there, and both
Had young daughters. They
Now were vying with
Me to see for which I would
Become their new Dad.
Spandex
Magical fabric, when
I was a youth, it thrilled me
For how it hugged the
Curves of a woman.
Now I am a man, it thrills
For how it permits
Me button my pants
Across my ever growing
Waistline; miracle!
Where am I ?
It’s 3 in the morning I’m somewhere else But I have a feeling this isn’t real This thought arouses my mind If thinking makes me real So why isn’t …
Where am I ?
Joker’s Logic
If you no longer
Wished to play this game, a text
Would have sufficed. “Hey,
Joe, I am picking
You up, back to Arkham.” You
Didn’t have to bust
Down the walls of my
Compound, interrogate my
Henchmen, brutalize
My poor sweet Harley,
That’s my job! Only joking.
I’d lose my head if
She wasn’t around.
Ha. I will admit that I
Crossed boundaries. It’s
In my nature. Did
I shoot Batgirl in the
Spine, strip her nude and
Sodomize her? Did
I torture Gordon with the
Photos of this crime?
You point the finger
At me, but I know you were
Eventually
Going to do the
Exact same thing, except with
Less panache. I just
Beat you to it, like
I beat old Jason to death.
Same thing, I know you
Thought about it, when
You watched the little jerk. I
See the pistol in
Your hand, and I fear
You’ll do something rash. Please let
Me speak, I am known
To be quite lucid
In times of stress. Batman does
Not kill, every kid
Knows that. So if you
Pull that trigger, the bullet
Goes both ways. Joker
Dies, but so does Bats,
And I’ve grown rather fond of
You, my dear Bruce Wayne.
Please believe I can
Reform; if I am redeemed,
There is hope for you.
Overtaken
Your gravity is
Controlled by mine. Subjected
Beneath me, shadowed.
Herman’s Hermitage 