Category Archives: violent

Hell Have No Fury Like This Woman Scorned

Here is an elegy I wrote. Well, more of a narrative poem. But don’t you think that calling it an elegy makes it sound more sophisticated?


A girl met a boy
It was love at first sight
She approached him with caution
And then stayed the night

By the morning he was gone
He’d left without a trace
He was allowed to live his life
While she hid in disgrace

Within a month a lump had formed
And she knew then what had happened
The devil had entered her womb
With a babe whose soul was blackened

She told a lady of the church
A woman that she could trust
Then the lady opened her mouth
Then the girl’s noose was cast

She was taken to court
In a rather grand affair
The judge found her guilty
An adultress beyond repair

She was cast out from the world
A scarlet letter on her chest
So she took matters into her hands
And invited the judge as a guest

Just a dribble of hemlock
Then her work was done
His face turned blue with death
By the dawn of the Sun

Then she tracked down her rougue lover
The devil who fathered her child
She found him with his ship
And a reputation that was quite wild

By this time the lump had grown
And the baby had started to kick
Walking became a struggle
And the pain had set in quick

She set to work with haste
A plan was forming in her mind
His death should be abrupt
But she felt this was too kind

So she loosened the planks
And allowed rot to set in
Then she stood back and waited
For her fun to begin

A cry came from his throat
As the water trickled in
And his eyes grew wide with shock
Over judgement of his sin

She was standing on the docks
His child in her womb
And watched as he was dying
His ship sinking to its doom


Because my poems are full of sunshine and rainbows (sarcasm)!

Anyway, please excuse me while  I watch the rain. Where I live, we have short, yet heavy bursts of rain throughout the day.

See you soon (I hope)

– The Empress

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My Pen

Combing through some stuff on my iPad (while listening to iTunes Radio!) and found this. I though I would share it with you because I’m too lazy to come up with anything current. I have to be honest,


My pen

Is my knife

My ink is my blood

My paper

Is my flesh

My words

Are my jugular

And now I am dead


Wow, that was a happy poem (sarcasm intended)! Anyway, I’ve got a couple of big projects I need to do, so back to procrastination.

– The Empress


Another Short Story that needs a title

Dear Followers,

The last time I requested a title, I got nothing. It still needs a title. Please, actually respond to this request, because I actually want a title.

Onto the story: It was inspired by two episodes of ‘Silent Witness’- Truth Part 1 and Truth Part 2. The victims in Part 1 are kidnapped and tortured before being poised by Anthrax (oops, spoiler) as part of some sick guy’s plan to get noticed. Perhaps not so much Anthrax, but more drug lord kidnap thing, I am open to all title suggestions.Now, my story:

She had been there too long to know the difference between night and day, winter or summer, rain or sun. She didn’t know whether she was alive or dead. If she was dead, she wondered what she’d done to anger God so much to put her in this Hell. If she was alive… She didn’t want to think about that. The door opened and two people walked in. A curvy silhouette followed them as they dragged her to a cuffed wooden frame. They suspended her, and she saw the curvy silhouette walk around her. “Have you gut the whip?” she asked, her voice sounding muffled and distant.
“Yes.” The woman nodded as her victim closed her eyes. And the pain. It felt like a snake was digging its teeth into her as it dragged through her skin. “Quicker, faster, harder,” the woman barked.
“Sorry.”  And then the pain again. A saw was slicing through her flesh roughly. Warm liquid trickled down the back of her legs before she was taken down again. As her captors exited, she slumped into her knees, the only sound in the room being the erratic drip of her blood onto the cold stone. She had been there too long to cry.