Archive for November, 2016

Room 188

November 28, 2016

Irishman, irishman,
white hair, pale fire eyes:
where are we heading?

Into a black west,
throttled by clouds
said he, the face grave
cloud against the day,

and my body hurt
and the mind was dim

but what can one do
when the crew has been
eaten, when even
plants ’round have fever?

on the left bank, high
in the trawlers’ net
maiden faced sealbeasts cry

Room 187

November 27, 2016

K is for Kestral, gods know what birds do in a dungeon,
there must be air funnels, vent holes from which B’s come too:
B is for Bat, just a nuisance, like the E for Emu (serious?
Are these storied ‘‘dungeons of doom’’ some sort of tivoli?);
S is for Snake, at least it bites, and here’s H the Hobgoblin,
which can pull quite a punch on a weak or wounded hero,
while Ice monsters, which are the I, are just a simple crack,
like Zombies and Orcs, Z’s and O’s that let courage grow
between items found, a piece of armour, some food or a ring,
and between bites of Rattlesnakes, the tough, hurting R,
what’s a strenght point less? Not much, you think, and descend.
L is for Leprechaun, a rich little fella, which is fun to kill –
are you becoming vicious? Better measure might on the C,
a Centaur is one proud match, but beware of the soggy A,
Acquators will melt your armor, and if you remove it, besides
the worrying look of a man in tank top ten or twelve levels down,
be careful: Quaggas may be another carnival act but Yetis do hurt
and the Troll, a T way nastier than Q’s and Y’s, can well bring one down
after a tragic run in a lorn aisle, nothing in the inventory to take a bloody break…

N is for Nymph, o beautiful creature shedding light in this darkness, yet
you carry items of magic, hence you must die, from arrows & mace.
F is for Flytrap, one huge flower (there’s some grace in mid-low levels)
yes it can grab you, but for a tee survivor it’s just like gardening,
as much as those potions, scrolls or staves suddenly turning into X’s,
the mimical Xeroc, that is easy to smash, while the U, that’s for Ur-vile
(which nobody figured out what’s exactly like) should be handled with care;
be careful also with the  , which is a P but invisibile, as Phantoms should be:
it will stick to your back, thirsty for blood, obsessive like a Vampire,
the ineludible V, a pest to the long-term builder if you want, but now,
that you got real deep, now that the amulet’s glow feels almost near,
the business is death, not a couple max hit points: M is for Mædusa
and try to bump, confused by its gaze, on the fiery Dragon ”D”. Yet,
it’s cake compared to a J, that is for Jabberwock, hulking beast sleeping
there in level twentythree. Hit it again, hit the jay for the kill and pray,
pray that a G will not show up; G, cold terror of the Griffin, which is not
– it just cannot be – a gryphon, but some deep hell horror, all blades,
a relative in sole onomastics, all blades and a vocation for blood & guts
of amulet-carrying people, of rogues trying to wind their way up to the stars.

Room 186

November 27, 2016

The whole of the sun turned dark during broad daylight, so that the stars could be seen in the sky. It lasted seven hours, during which there was an earthquake and a great hailstorm.

Three suns were then seen in the west when the day was about to set, and after two hours the other two disappeared, and the central one set after that.

A creature all grey with the head of a bearded man and four feet with claws was seen roaming the land. Caught by a hunt party was brought to court, and even given a room in the Gästehaus, but it would neither eat nor drink and suffered quite horribly.

In the middle of the night a great brightness was seen in all parts of the land, like a fiery shaft of red light climbing up into the height of the firmament.

A sticky matter like whitehoney was covering the earth and most buildings in the morning. It smelled sweet and caused giddiness to some children who ate it. One of the children started speaking languages, but was calm by eventide.

Room 185

November 25, 2016

– I cannot believe it. You snuffed another maid.
– I’m sorry…
– This lasted, what? Three weeks?
– Four… almost…

Room 184

November 25, 2016

Go ask Alice, said one, so we went,
and there she was, ten thousand feet tall
sitting, high and blonde the head, all crowned
in clouds, and we tried to scream things up
but when she spoke she just said Well kids…
Just that, and the night suddenly fell,
and we were lost, and from the long cracks
in the dry land spirits started to exale…
And how did you get out alive, gramps?
We were already out, stupid brat.
Urchin! Jackanapes! Whippersnapper!
Yeah, sure – as if the man allowed me
to joke like that: such a memory,
now, and it has made up details too.

Red flares in the sky were announced.

Room 183

November 25, 2016

like a Wehrmacht soldat
of age twentytwo, all
frenzied with Pervitin
all gray and black and sweat
shooting a hazel girl
and trying to rape her skull
with holed out genitals
in sprouts of flat colours

two haruspices walking backwards
bump on each other’s hind, turn around
and look each other in the eyes: try,
then, not to just burst into laughter

some men were seen moving in a line,
up in the hills, someone will recall

Room 182

November 6, 2016

to wake up tied, gagged, all naked
the room is white, soundproofed
pillowlike ceiling
the two tall men wear sharp suits
shiny shoes, skinny ties
and rubber gas masks
shall we start by recording
some basic screams, says one
his voice all muffled
while the other produces
a surgical handsaw
her wheel all buzzing
was it your sister saying
to make a treasure of
every weird moment?
having such a thought here now
another weird moment
inside the first one
was it your sister saying
to make a treasure of
every weird moment?

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