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Pendulum
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DEAD MEMORY
The rusty pendulum is imminent now,
like the grandfather clock of a gallows,
swaying until a new slaughter is found.
The prisoner cries hysterically. Shackles
rattle with growing frightful intensity.
A lighbulb hovers and flickers, revealing
the blood of past torture victims in flashes,
splattered on the cobblestone walls.
I Re-Read A Tale Of Two Cities this year
This took me there - cobblestones was transporting. The book was pro-upper class privilege drowned, but like We The Living - Ayn Rand, both works as high and low and rising from a severe political shift were graphically and romantically-emotionally portrayed. Shackles for me are terror-evoking historically. Like this poem.
Your command of the eerie is
Your command of the eerie is as great as your command of the evocative!
Starward
could write about sunshine,
could write about sunshine, fairies, nature beauty, try hard to convey the presence of angels, thoughts, etc. But the horizon is broad in the depiction of darkness. It could also be exceedingly interesting scene, which otherwise we wouldn't dare deliberate, until it becomes art as a different kind of beauty -- and thoroughly shocks.
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes