The rupture-red fountain
Shot upward fifteen feet,
An immense flow
That sky shot with
Punishing pressure.
But from where?
It was hard to see,
Other than that the stream,
Conical, flaring up and out,
Turning outward and down
In crimson rain.
Upon closer inspection,
The funnel-straw was formed
From fencing,
Pierced in a mound
And jetting up
In widening width.
The fencing,
Conical as it was,
Still allowed rough
Sanguine spray
Through porous grating.
Upon further advance,
The mound was moving,
Twitching tremorously—
It was a body,
It was human—
A boy’s bloat.
Getting close as comfort allowed,
I could see the eyes
Stitched open,
Bloody tears trailing
Down death’s cheek.
Beneath the nasal summit,
An abyss
With calcium peaks
And overhangs.
The fountain’s flood
Fell upon all beneath,
A fetid flow,
Clotted and chunky—
A coating of
Sanguinaccio.
Looking up,
These words could be seen,
Formed in the flowing fluid:
Formed in the flowing fluid:
“Murder most malicious.”
Who’s murder could this be?
Drawing closer,
Ever so near,
The boy’s body appeared
To bear familiarity’s face.
For lying there,
In a horrific display
Upon the past’s threshing floor,
Was the visage of little me
Wishing I had
More.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: June 13th, 2025 08:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Poetic Licence
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Comments7
Sheesh, man! From whence spring these ghastly, macabre, devilish murmurs?! La dee. Superbly rendered with exceptional imagery and a devilish, intriguing poignancy. Thank you for sharing.
Yay! First comment! Indeed, this one fits all those descriptions. I figured I'd reemerge from vacation with bang! 🤣 I am glad it delivered, my dear friend. Thank you so much for your time and your analysis, which I deeply value! 🩸🌫️🕳️🪓
Excellent write Tristan
Thank you so much, Tony! Glad it delivered! 🩸🌫️🕳️🪓
You're welcome
Hello Tristan,
Engrossed, intrigued, beguiled and horrified as I read through this poem and then to discover it was you along as a boy on the trashing floor of your own past. As if composed out of a nightmare. You have a unique way with words, on edge poetry, as it were, holding the reader's attention with poetic acumen and the fierceness that can be found therein. A gifted poet, you are. Excellent!
Do take care now,
Tony.
Tony, your words truly humble me. Thank you for your in-depth read, your time, and your thoughtful analysis. You are a most talented poet, my friend, and hearing such encouragement from you genuinely inspires me. Thank you again, Tony—take care as well! 🩸🌫️🕳️🪓
This is like a nightmare coming to life, all the demons of your past congregating and tormenting, very dark and sad in context, but a gripping read, welcome back
Indeed. Thank you my friend for your time, feedback, and the warm welcome. It's good to be back. 🩸🌫️🕳️🪓
You are very welcome
Bloody, gruesome, horrific it delivers a picture of terror but is far worse in the discovery. Nicely written
Thank you Soren. So glad it delivered, my friend. I had to come back with a bang! 🤣 Thanks again. 🩸🌫️🕳️🪓
Sounds like someone's spontaneous combustion. lol. Maybe Popeye or Obi, in a way. 🙄🤣
Oh...and how! That spinach I tell you. 🙄🤣
Yes, we blame the spinach for it! lol.
Exactly! I always told me mum it was no good for me, see? And she wouldn't listen! But as soon as I got on my own I stopped and I don't have the problems those two seem to! 🤣
Eating up your greens, especially spinach?! hehe.
Poor kid... could've been me at that age as well... when death became me. Powerful write T... and Justice has been slow at its heels🙏🏻🕊️
Very, very slow indeed! Thank you, my friend! Glad it delivered and thank you for your time and thoughts. 🩸🌫️🕳️🪓
Most welcome mate 🙏🏻🕊
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