Tag Archive: gore


Day 25- Santa Claws


Dionysus decided to take you guys on today!
Hehehe!

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SANTA CLAWS

Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!
What will you like Santa to add to your wishlist?
I come bearing gifts for both the young and the old.
All I ask in return is your pound of flesh by the mould.

Santa Claws, sharper than Krueger Freddy,
I take what I want whenever I’m ready.
Kids scream in pure ecstacy,
As my fingers pierce through their soft belly.

Ladies shed tears of joy as my claws massage their fanny.
Blood dripping, I seem to be making them horny.
I want a car for christmas, he stood there wishing.
My claws were the key and his flesh was the ignition.

Ho Ho Ho!, I am Santa Claws!
I live and abide by only one law.
If you have a wish, Santa Claws would deliver.
But just remember to drop your liver,
Kidneys, toes, eyes will do.
Heart, intestines, kneecaps too

What you ask, you shall receive,
Along with your inevitable bereave.
Ho Ho Ho, I am Santa Claws!
I ride no elves, but you see me crusing a Porsche.
My stomach is bloated from drinking too much liquor.
I dyed my beard white cause young girls like em older.

Underneath my red suit are a pair of guns.
To get a titty flash from one of them uptight nuns.
I am Santa Claws and I aint no folklore.
‘Ho Ho Ho’ and my big belly are what I use to lure.

Girls, boys, men, women are fascinated.
Camouflaged as I rip their flesh and the blood painted.
Walls, floors, tables and ceilings,
I give birth to the new untainted phoenix.
Death gives life and the unborn is born.
I give something new as their flesh is ripped and torn.

I am Santa Claws and December 25th is when I make my Hitlist.
Give me a call and I’d give you a visit
Ho Ho Ho!
Merry Christmas!

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Frankly, Dionysus is crazy! LOL.
Do enjoy your festivities. Drink responsibly and be safe.
Bless!

Nightmare


Dionysus is here! Ring the alarms!

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You’ve been lied to just to rape you of your sight and now they have the nerve to tell you how to feel. So sedated as they medicate your brain and while you slowly go insane they tell ya “Given with the best intentions, help you with your complications”…

“Open your mouth Walter. Here comes the chu chu train.. Chu Chu”
Walter was locked up in a care home for disturbed teens, an asylum to be frank, for the gruesome murder of his whole family.
Can you blame him?
Ever felt surrounded by people but still totally alone? Even around close companions, have you ever felt out of place, like you’ve evolved to a point where the past and the people in it are nothing but a big obstacle, a hindrance along your path and you’re forced to share the confusion and karmic reactions of their own fuck ups, not yours?
This is Walter’s tale.

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“This can’t be right! I refuse to accept! I’d rather die than accept this! This is just pure wickedness.”
Walter talks to himself in the confines of his room, teary eyed not from pain but an unflinching anger building up, slowly eating away at reason, rationality and conscience. His room was the only place where his brain was not sedated with thoughts and feelings of people who didn’t understand him at all, his so called family members.
“I mean does anybody really care? God why would you allow such wickedness to happen, Why? Of what good is praying to You if you allow such people breathe rather than punish them for their evil ways. Just give me a sign Lord that you care and all my cries aren’t in vain! Please!”

Hate to twist your mind, but God ain’t on your side. An old acquaintance severed, burn the world your last endeavour…

The White family were so rich, they were almost considered royalty. They were the talk of the town; everybody envied them and wanted to be like them. They were charming, always smiling and knew the exact words to say to the public to get them ‘wet’ and craving their attention even more. All this was just a facade of course as the horrors that happened in the White household were a sharp contrast to their outward demeanour. Mrs Janice White tortures slaves as a form of entertainment, each scream of agony, widening the smile on her face. Mr White sees all but does anything to keep his wife happy. He is no saint himself, a secret paedophile. Peter, the first born and Mary, the second, share a love that is described in the outside world as Incest. Walter, sixteen years of age has to witness all these acts go on with no one to tell or turn to. They’ve hammered it into his head several times to lie to the public, beating him severely if word got out he was blabbing about the happenings of his household. Even if he did tell anyone, no one would believe, as having money and calling the name of God is enough to get plebeian man to consider you a saint. Any faux pas or irrational behaviour is easily forgotten with a shiny Rolex on the arm, a thousand dollar suit and a little ‘compensation’

Flesh is burning you can smell it in the air cause men like you have such an easy soul to steal. So stand in line while they ink numbers in your head, you’re now a slave until the end of time here. Nothing stops the madness turning, haunting, yearning pull the trigger!…

Walter lies on his bed, thoughts flowing in his head like a horror movie as he listens to the moans and the giggles of his siblings copulating, through his bedroom wall. He can also hear the wailing of a slave as his mother has her fun for the day.
“God, I’ve been patient and this patience is sucking out my soul. My soul is burning. I’m burning. Burning to do Your will. I’m Your son, the good one. Remember that. ”
With this, he gets up from his bed, eyes unblinking as if he was possessed by a certain maniac of a spirit, reality fading fast. He sneaks into his father’s room and picks up one of the fancy rifles hanging on the wall. He had seen his father use it before, shooting birds in their yard. He checks if its loaded and carries some more bullets in his pocket just to make sure he doesn’t run out of ammunition. He walks up to Peter’s room, door left ajar; the parents knew what was going on but gave up trying to stop them. He steps into the room to see his elder brother behind his sister, their backs turned towards him. Their frantic moans and giggles raises up a wave of disgust in his being. He walks closer, his siblings still unaware of his presence. Eyes wide open, shining with glare of the righteous, he cocks the rifle and pulls the trigger. The bullet passes through his brother’s neck, blood from severed jugular, splattering on the walls, the bed and on his sister. Peter’s lifeless body falls on top of Mary, his still-warm blood bathing her skin. Her moans became screams and she tried to push him off her back but he is too heavy. She looks into her younger brother’s face and sees the cold look in his eyes.
“Walter… wh….wh….co….”
He cannot hear what she’s frantically mounting and he doesn’t allow her to go on. He aims the rifle to her head and a second later, blood and brain decorate the sheets and walls some more.

The screams of the slaves have ceased as his mom heard the sound of the gunshots. She calls her husband, then the cops and locks herself in a room. She soon hears a knock on the door
“Mom! Mom! Its me! Open up! They are after me!”.
“Walt! Oh my God, Walt! I’m coming”
As soon as she opens the door, he aims for her belly and pulls the trigger, sending her sliding to the floor.
“Walt.. Wh.. Why?”
This time he really does cry as he loved his mother but hated the fact that she had to be so wicked.
“Mom. It’s God’s work. No more. No more”
The small pool of blood expands beneath her as life slowly leaves her body. He aims for her head and saves her from her misery. He looked outside the window and sees his father’s car enter the compound. He hides behind the door bidding his time, waiting for his father to come in. As soon as his father enters, he holds the iron end of the rifle and swings at his fathers head. A cracking sound, like smashing a coconut on concrete. Blood slides down Mr White’s head. He places the rifle at point blank range on his father’s groin and pulls the trigger. He leaves his father to scream and die in pain.

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The cops finally arrived, finding Walter sitting on the couch, stained with blood, and the rifle in his hand, unblinking gaze into space, muttering about God’s work. He was termed insane and was sentenced to an asylum to live out his remaining days. The public considered him evil. How could someone that came from such a privileged family do something so sinister and cold hearted?

END

P.S- Just in case you wondered, the lyrics in bold comes from Nightmare-a7x, one of my favourite song of theirs!!!

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