Current Creative Endeavours and Ideas

Current Creative Endeavours

Streetlight Silhouettes

• Neo-Noir
• Writing as novel first
• Has potential to become a graphic novel and/or screenplay
• Design ideas
• Illustrations

Nightmare Squad

• Fantasy/Sci-fi/Strangeness 
• Writing as novel first
• Potential for episodic series
• Potential for full length script
• Potential for videogame
• Potential for designs
• Illustrations
• Vivid universe

The Devil's Jest

• Action/Adventure/Fantasy
• Screenplay
• Illustrations

Waking Nightmares

• Psychological thriller
• Screenplay
• Novel
• Designs?

IDEAS

•  Untitled children's story
• "Platypus Poetry, Crabs with Knives, and Other Misadventures"
• Strange and weird help manuals
• Designs
• Heart-On-Sleeve
• Horror stories
• Poetry collection with illustrations
• Various art/crafting projects
• Tattoo Designs

 

Sweet Silver Song of Clever Thieves

Another old poem I'm willing to  share.

Sweet Silver Song of Clever Thieves

Underneath a pool of moonlight

Some silver instrument plays

A song not heard in many days

Its glistening notes shimmer in the still night air

No other instrument can quite compare

Walking along the well-trodden road

I pause to lighten this heavy load

Underneath a pool of moonlight

I hear some silver instrument play

A perfect end to the day

Notes so pure and sweet

A sound no other instrument can hope to beat

I feel my eyes cloud in a misty haze

My mind’s in a daze

I will sleep now under the moon’s gentle gaze

Enchanted by the song

I sleep for far too long

And by the time

I wake, the moon quite gone,

The load that once was mine

Taken, for no more than a song

The thieves long gone

Thieves who played

Some silver instrument

Underneath a pool of moonlight.

My Darkness

I wrote this many years ago but I think it's alright

My Darkness

These days,

A muted aura consumes,

Casting out lustre,

Lacking the richness,

Denying vibrance.

I’m looking out a dirty window

And where once glowed a streetlight

Now only black shadow prevails.

Only darkness.

My darkness

Starless,

Where moon and sun become one,

Eclipsed and invisible.

And autumn shudders under winter’s touch,

While summer’s dryness claws at autumn’s throat.

Cool freshness lost, a  wind much in need to break free

Caged images hiding their worth,

Lost to sickly stale air, permeated with ill-fated errors.

Looking into a store window,

All that stares back is a silhouette of a reflection,

Hollow darkness.

My darkness.

Bloody Hands - Poetry Scrap

There was blood on her hands

As she wept,

Staring out the window,

As darkness came,

As darkness consumed,

And she sank into it,

Willingly to empty

The stench of death,

Her heavy shroud.

With dreams to mount the funeral pyre

O sweet relief,

The grasp of grief

Loosened lost.

A scarp of a poem. I lost the vibe on this one.

Silence

Cold and heavy, it fell upon her,

A tear shaped silence,

Down pale cheeks it ran.

The last candle extinguished,

And the dark lies heavy and still,

Engulfing a room,

Laden in sorrowful silence.

And in silence, she mourned,

The life she sought, but never knew,

The dreams dying within her,

The hopes long lost, left behind.