A Bazaar Macabre is written under the persona, greykeeper, and delivered through dual tongue. While an accumulation of both light and shade, this character leans heavily towards the latter, to cater for those with a hankering for prose of a darker persuasion. Title art is by Aaron Lovett. 

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Big Bad Voodoo Daddy “Jumpin’ Jack”

Bless us O, Father
greykeeper grin the widest when we’re sinning
Like a pair of stubborn stains on your wash day linen
You could blame our damaged brains but would be missing the point
Would not be savvy claim to frame our noses out of joint

We have recently been on a lengthy sabbatical
But this is not to say we have been any less fanatical
Our methods may be radical
Our prose strike a mean pose
Indeed, our tight flow can be seen leaning on the dominoes
Then giving them a flick

You see, we seldom miss a trick slick
Should you stiffen up for word porn
Then may wish to grab your lipstick
As this pair of twisted misfits
Can be savagely sadistic
To no ends
As we tend not to bend statistics

Call it mystique if you wish to dish critique out
But there is little cryptic of our liberty to speak out
Indeed, there exists tremendous darkness within us
Which has been known to leak out onto parchment
Every large shunt is a yard punt
And murder raps in fact are our department

Farming for varmints to darn into flesh quilts
We garnish then varnish each splash of deep red spilled
Some may well brand it unnecessary harshness
But we’re all about catharsis having mastered human treadmill

Thus, any alarmists who take offence to our output
May wish to stay put as we may well get up to no good
Open you up like a tin of sardines
Extracting your spleen should prove routine procedure

You see
Our hands they are steady
Our eyes blink not when scattering confetti
And can tell the very moment that your palms grow sweaty
No pulling the wool over these eyes to disguise us
If you’ve never been garroted
We can easy pop that cherry
Heaven help any small fry or wall fly who tries to deny us

You may think this false bravado
Perhaps a little too much Grand Theft Auto
But this pair of desperados have had our fill of incommunicado
Thus we embargo every white lie that passes us by
Take rascals to task as we look dead in their glass eyes
And swear down the greykeeper stare down is unsurpassed

It’s your choice to rejoice this
Or take steps to avoid us
For we’re reliably informed
That we provide voice to the voiceless
Mean no disrespect if we then act a bit boisterous
For the words we select are very choicest

On closer perusal you may find we’re not your bag
So to clear up all confusion
We are more than fine with that
Not looking to bludgeon
Well apart from the cudgel
But we just dig the acoustics of skeletal percussion

No doubt we headline a noir bazaar most macabre
But we ultimately mean you no foul and less harm
And besides, what good is an arm if not chanced
A heart if not glanced
And poison not lanced

It’s a dirty job for sure
Bona fide blood and guts
But someone has to do it
And it may as well be us

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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