Archive for October, 2010

Madhouse Theater Gallery

Posted in art, ASCII Text Art, calligrams, concrete poetry, Halloween, horror poetry, horror stories, pattern poetry, poems, poetry, shape poems, typography, Uncategorized, visual poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 31, 2010 by ecko

All visual poems above  Copyright © 2010 John Ecko.  All rights reserved.

(Just click desired image once or twice to blow up to preferred size)

Madhouse Theater Short Story Preview:

Otterman’s Quarry   https://eckovision.wordpress.com/2010/10/23/ottermans-quarry-a-story-from-the-madhouse/

Fifty-First Street  https://eckovision.wordpress.com/2010/10/10/fifty-first-street-a-short-story-from-the-madhouse/

ATM  https://eckovision.wordpress.com/2010/10/12/atm-a-short-story-from-the-madhouse/

All You Can Eat  https://eckovision.wordpress.com/2010/10/15/all-you-can-eat-a-short-story-from-the-madhouse/

~~~

Poetry From the Madhouse:  https://eckovision.wordpress.com/2010/10/29/poetry-from-the-madhouse/

~~~

From the collaborative madness of story teller and poet, Scott Scherr, and visual poet, John Ecko, comes this twisted collection of short stories, poetry, and visual nightmares from the darkest corners of their unbalanced minds. The stage is set, our props have been sharpened and our cast of characters are ready to perform their torture on you, fair reader. Within these pages wait a vast assortment of sickos, maniacs, boogeyman, monsters, myths, ghosts and much, much more. Please, take your seats and welcome to the theater. We hope you enjoy the show…although you’ve been here all along.
 
Madhouse Theater is now available for purchase.  You can purchase directly at:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=2893692

~

Poetry From the Madhouse

Posted in art, ASCII Text Art, calligrams, concrete poetry, Halloween, horror poetry, horror stories, pattern poetry, poems, poetry, shape poems, typography, Uncategorized, visual poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 29, 2010 by ecko

Here’s a poetry preview, poems featured by Scott Scherr included in Madhouse Theater:

 

Someone Turn a Light On

Someone turn a light on,
There’s a darkness in my head.
I’ve been acting strangely
And I always feel half-dead.

I’m sleeping more each evening,
But my dreams fill me with dread.
Someone turn a light on,
For I wake in strangers beds.

Someone turn the light off,
For my conscience saw the news.
Another woman murdered,
By her bedside were my shoes.

I woke today without them
And my clothes were bloody too.
Someone turn the light off,
Best not know the things I do.

  

 ~~~

 

Dark Room

I define helpless,
kissing death
in the
dark- I cannot rise.

My limbs are dead branches
for all they
are worth
now- I cannot run.

This mouth, void of speech
to cry out;
all hope
gone- I cannot plead.

Physical escape
has failed me
in this
place- I cannot move…at all.

Drugs work perfection,
even now
near the
end.

I possess a single eye open
to keep this
terror
real

and

ears to amplify
their footsteps
coming
soon…to my dark room.

  

~~~

  

White Noise

The multiplication of voices resounding,
Sanity’s drowning in background destroyed.
All words that once rescued from sirens surrounding,
Lost in dark frequencies, death by white noise.

I’m deaf to their footsteps now masked by tone madness,
Legions of audio demons proceed.
My senses betray me, I dance in the darkness,
Sound works in silence, infecting my dreams.

I wake in the false light, subliminal phantoms
Guide me like piper, completely deceived.
To do what they tell me, and think that I fathom
The reason my hands are now red, while you bleed.

My conscience now muted, as well as your screams,
Lost in the background, where I used to be.

  

~~~

 

Cellular Zombies

Have you seen them…roaming
with deceased awareness?
Former members of the living,
joining the ranks of the oblivious.

You may find them jogging in the park,
or on the freeway driving near dark.
They’ve over-run the shopping malls,
infection spreading down every hall.

Have you seen them…answering the call
with blank stare, no longer there at all?
Self-consumed by various transmissions,
losing sensibility, not aware of your existence!

Speaking into the cellular air
they’re lost in plastic receiver cares.
The longer you linger, the more you’ll diminish,
soon becoming victim of unlimited minutes.

So if you see them…roaming
with deceased awareness,
best wait for these zombies to pass,
for their insensitivity might be infectious.

 

~~~

 

Strange Lights

We watched them move across the night;
strange lights in a moonless sky.

At first glance one might dismiss
this sleight of hand on eye.

One by one they killed all doubts,
and reason lost its voice.

Dare we let such wonder in?
A skeptic’s loss of choice?

How long did we fail to notice;
have they been there all this time?

In those few moments we laid down
the trivial for the sublime.

Like children when the world was new,
dumfounded and sincere,

We shared a common unity-
at least…until the fear.

We watched them move across the night;
strange lights in a moonless sky

pretending to be stars.

 

~~~

All poems above Copyright © 2010 Scott Scherr.  All rights reserved.  From the new book, “Madhouse Theater” by Scott Scherr and John Ecko.

From the collaborative madness of story teller and poet, Scott Scherr, and visual poet, John Ecko, comes this twisted collection of short stories, poetry, and visual nightmares from the darkest corners of their unbalanced minds. The stage is set, our props have been sharpened and our cast of characters are ready to perform their torture on you, fair reader. Within these pages wait a vast assortment of sickos, maniacs, boogeyman, monsters, myths, ghosts and much, much more. Please, take your seats and welcome to the theater. We hope you enjoy the show…although you’ve been here all along.
 
Madhouse Theater is now available for purchase.  You can purchase directly at:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=2893692

~



The Ghouls of Cyberspace/Cellular Zombies

Posted in art, ASCII Text Art, calligrams, concrete poetry, Halloween, horror poetry, horror stories, pattern poetry, poems, poetry, shape poems, typography, Uncategorized, visual poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2010 by ecko

“The Ghouls of Cyberspace” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.  From the new book “Madhouse Theater” by Scott Scherr and John Ecko

 

Cellular Zombies

Have you seen them…roaming
with deceased awareness?
Former members of the living,
joining the ranks of the oblivious.

You may find them jogging in the park,
or on the freeway driving near dark.
They’ve over-run the shopping malls,
infection spreading down every hall.

Have you seen them…answering the call
with blank stare, no longer there at all?
Self-consumed by various transmissions,
losing sensibility, not aware of your existence!

Speaking into the cellular air
they’re lost in plastic receiver cares.
The longer you linger, the more you’ll diminish,
soon becoming victim of unlimited minutes.

So if you see them…roaming
with deceased awareness,
best wait for these zombies to pass,
for their insensitivity might be infectious.

“Cellular Zombies” Copyright © 2010 Scott Scherr.  All rights reserved.  From the new book, “Madhouse Theater” by Scott Scherr and John Ecko

——————————————————

There are monsters that prey upon us in ways we don’t think of.  Their goal:  To destroy our ability to experience the world around us…and the people within it.  Let’s moderate ourselves by logging off more often, turning off the gadgets and remembering there’s still a real world out there…before the lines become blurred and we are prisoners in here. 

ecko.

~~~

From the collaborative madness of story teller and poet, Scott Scherr, and visual poet, John Ecko, comes this twisted collection of short stories, poetry, and visual nightmares from the darkest corners of their unbalanced minds. The stage is set, our props have been sharpened and our cast of characters are ready to perform their torture on you, fair reader. Within these pages wait a vast assortment of sickos, maniacs, boogeyman, monsters, myths, ghosts and much, much more. Please, take your seats and welcome to the theater. We hope you enjoy the show…although you’ve been here all along.
 
Madhouse Theater is now available for purchase.  Please go and check out my new blog to see an expanded preview of what’s inside the Madhouse.

www.madhousetheater.wordpress.com

You can also purchase directly at:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=2893692

~

Dark Clown

Posted in art, ASCII Text Art, calligrams, concrete poetry, Halloween, horror poetry, horror stories, pattern poetry, poems, poetry, shape poems, typography, Uncategorized, visual poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 24, 2010 by ecko

“Dark Clown” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko.  All rights reserved.  From the new book, “Madhouse Theater” by Scott Scherr and John Ecko.

What is it about clowns that makes my skin crawl?  Is it their exaggerated facial features, wide girth and oversized feet meant to overwhelm small children?   Perhaps it’s their bright and colorful costumes that if anyone else was caught wearing we would assume they were disturbed?  Or maybe it’s the ruse to hide someone sinister behind all that paint and smiles? Perhaps I’m being ridiculous, or maybe not.  All the same, he who fears the clown is a wise man in my eyes…lol. 

ecko.

~~~  

For more poems and tales about creatures that roam the dark places, check out Madhouse Theater.

From the collaborative madness of story teller and poet, Scott Scherr, and visual poet, John Ecko, comes this twisted collection of short stories, poetry, and visual nightmares from the darkest corners of their unbalanced minds. The stage is set, our props have been sharpened and our cast of characters are ready to perform their torture on you, fair reader. Within these pages wait a vast assortment of sickos, maniacs, boogeyman, monsters, myths, ghosts and much, much more. Please, take your seats and welcome to the theater. We hope you enjoy the show…although you’ve been here all along.
 
Madhouse Theater is now available for purchase.  Please go and check out my new blog to see an expanded preview of what’s inside the Madhouse.

www.madhousetheater.wordpress.com

You can also purchase directly at:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=2893692

~

Otterman’s Quarry (A Story from the Madhouse)

Posted in art, ASCII Text Art, calligrams, concrete poetry, Halloween, horror poetry, horror stories, pattern poetry, poems, poetry, shape poems, typography, Uncategorized, visual poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 23, 2010 by ecko

     The full moon broke free of bondage behind a once overcast evening as the clouds began to move on, unable to hold back moonlight any longer. The children welcomed the new light with relief, for story time was about to begin and there were always too many ghost stories shared.  Within the small camp at the bottom of Otterman’s Quarry, a remnant of Miss Hoffman’s seventh grade class, eight boys and six girls, all huddled around the small camp fire waiting for fright night to begin.
     The school bus stood nearby, at the edge of their small camp where several tents were pitched.
     Each year, Miss Hoffman volunteered to take her English class out on a camping trip in the spring, with a couple of parents as chaperones and a bus driver. The only requirement was that each student in attendance had to come up with their own story to tell. Those that couldn’t make the trip would have to write a story for homework, while the rest were graded on oral presentations at camp.
     It was Cynthia’s turn to spin a tale, as Miss Hoffman was fond of saying. Cynthia looked around nervously, reaching for her story that was folded up on a sheet of paper.
     “Once upon a time,” She began, “there was a girl who had a doll that spoke.”
     Timmy Horace, self appointed class clown, snorted from behind Susan Crawford. Soon all the kids were laughing.
     “Don’t you start, Timmy!” Miss Hoffman scolded. “Or would you like to tell your story first?”
     That was enough to silence the crowd and keep Timmy in line. Scary stories were one thing, but nothing was more frightening then having to go first. Cynthia’s shaking hands were a testament to that fact.
     “Go on, Cynthia,” Miss Hoffman encouraged, “You’re doing fine.”
     Cynthia continued her story about an evil talking doll and the mischief it caused. She relaxed by the time she was half way through the telling. As Cynthia neared the end of her tale, she said, “Late one night, the little girl was crying because she missed her dog that had mysteriously went missing.” Cynthia got into her tale now and finished in a creepy voice, “That was when the doll finally spoke to her and said, ‘Little girl, it was I that killed your dog!'”
     This gave them all chills, even Timmy the clown.
     “Well done, Cynthia,” Miss Hoffman said, believing her tale finished. “Now, who would like to go-”
     Cynthia interrupted, “Then the evil doll looked at all the children who rode the bus that night.” Cynthia’s voice seemed to change as she said this, pausing to point at each of the kids around the fire, “Then that doll said, ‘You are all fucking dead, every single one of you!'”
     This made them all shift uncomfortably, including Miss Hoffman who was stunned. She regained herself quickly, “Ok, Cynthia, that’s quite enough of that. You scared everyone pretty good. Who’s next?”
     Cynthia looked confused and said, “Sorry, Miss Hoffman, I don’t know where that came from. It wasn’t part of my story.”
     “That’s ok dear, you just got a little carried away,” Miss Hoffman said.
     “I’ll go next,” volunteered Timmy.
     Surprised and relieved to have a new distraction, Miss Hoffman said, “Ok, Timmy, please proceed.”
     Timmy started telling a story of space aliens that took over the world by farting on earthlings. Then something happened as he interrupted his own tale, speaking in a voice not his own, “All of you fell from the sky, and died horribly in the fire.”
     Again, the kids were caught off guard by this. But some were slowly becoming aware of something strange.
     “Timmy! What was that nonsense?” Miss Hoffman asked. First Cynthia with her story, now Timmy was acting weird.
     Timmy appeared shocked and covered his own mouth, afraid of what would come out of it next. He then sat down, giving Miss Hoffman a troubled look.
     Miss Hoffman grew alarmed with what she saw in Timmy’s eyes. He looked afraid. Before she could address this, Susan Crawford stood up and started her story.
     “Headlights in my eyes! Headlights in my eyes! Horns blaring!” Susan shouted.
     Before Miss Hoffman could say another word, Jason Boyd got up.
     “Scratching! Scratching! We couldn’t get out! Windows jammed! Sparks flew across the night!” Jason said.
    “Guardrail gave way!” Another girl added.
     Then Timmy repeated, “All of you fell from the sky! Burned alive!”
     Miss Hoffman was alarmed. She wanted to believe that she was the victim of some terrible joke the kids were playing. But their faces held no humor.
     “Boom! Boom! Fire!” Cynthia shouted from directly behind her, making Miss Hoffman jump.
When she turned to look at her, Cynthia’s face appeared disfigured with burns. 
     Miss Hoffman backed away, “What is this? What are you kids doing?”
     They were all up now, chanting, “Boom! Boom! Fire!” 
     Every one of them were now badly burned.
     Miss Hoffman wanted to scream but couldn’t get it out. She turned for the school bus, anything to escape those charred children’s faces, and found the blackened remains of an old blown up and heavily damaged vehicle instead.
     “What the hell is going on?” She shouted.
     From inside the destroyed bus, someone opened the door.
     Of course, Miss Hoffman thought, the chaperones! They must be in on this! Some very bad and tasteless joke!
     She found it strange she had not thought of them, or seen them all evening until now.
     Were they in the bus this whole time? Miss Hoffman thought.
     Before she could enter, she saw the remains of a severely burned man sitting in the driver’s seat. The man turned his head toward her and said in a raspy voice, “Hey teach, you’re not supposed to be here. It’s time to go.”
     Miss Hoffman screamed then fell backwards into the ashes of an ancient fire pit that was lit just moments before. She continued to scream, raising her hands before her face, as she heard the footsteps of the children approaching. Miss Hoffman looked up at the first child. It was Cynthia, but she was no longer burned.
     I’m losing my mind, she thought.
     “No you’re not, Miss Hoffman,” Cynthia said with a smile.
     Miss Hoffman looked at the rest of them. They were all normal looking again.
     “What’s happening to me?” She asked.
     “You’re not supposed to be here, Miss Hoffman,” Timmy replied. “None of us are.”
     “You keep bringing us back here,” Cynthia added.
     “What on earth are you kids talking about?” Miss Hoffman asked. That was when she noticed her own hands were covered in burns. “What? What is this?” She then closed her eyes and shouted, “Just get away from me, whatever you things are! Just get away!”
     Cynthia and Timmy looked at each other. Cynthia said, “She’s still not ready to hear it.”
     “I know,” Timmy responded, shaking his head sadly.
     As Miss Hoffman rolled into a ball in the center of old ashes, the children looked over to see two burned chaperones step off the mangled old bus and wave for them to get on. The kids looked back at Miss Hoffman as Cynthia said, “Miss Hoffman, it’s time to go. Will you come this time?”
     Miss Hoffman was now covering her ears and sobbing uncontrollably.
     The children loaded the bus and simply disappeared, along with the two chaperones. A few minutes later, Miss Hoffman faded away as the first traces of morning kissed the horizon.  All that remained was the burned up and rusted hulk of an old school bus.
     By the next evening, they would all be back to tell stories, stories they’ve told again and again for five years now. Miss Hoffman kept coming back. Miss Hoffman kept bringing them all back.

~~~

     At the top of Otterman’s Quarry, the remaining students of Miss Hoffman’s class had erected a small wooden cross near a busted out guardrail five years ago. Each year they took turns coming back to remember their friends that died when a drunk driver swerved in front of the school bus and caused it to go over the quarry and crash below. The bus exploded on impact killing everyone in the inferno.
     Otterman’s Quarry has been closed to the public ever since.
     It’s been said that on nights the full moon is out, especially near Halloween, you can walk near the cliffs of the quarry and hear the voices of children coming from down below carried by the wind.  If you listened real close, you might catch a ghost story or two.

————————————————————————

“Otterman’s Quarry” Copyright © 2010 Scott Scherr.  All rights reserved. From the new book “Madhouse Theater” by Scott Scherr and John Ecko.

—————————————————————–

We hope you’ve enjoyed this ghost story from Madhouse Theater.  Happy Halloween!  

ecko.

 

From the collaborative madness of story teller and poet, Scott Scherr, and visual poet, John Ecko, comes this twisted collection of short stories, poetry, and visual nightmares from the darkest corners of their unbalanced minds. The stage is set, our props have been sharpened and our cast of characters are ready to perform their torture on you, fair reader. Within these pages wait a vast assortment of sickos, maniacs, boogeyman, monsters, myths, ghosts and much, much more. Please, take your seats and welcome to the theater. We hope you enjoy the show…although you’ve been here all along.
 
Madhouse Theater is now available for purchase.  Please go and check out my new blog to see an expanded preview of what’s inside the Madhouse.

www.madhousetheater.wordpress.com

You can also purchase directly at:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=2893692

~~~

Halloween Special Edition: The Angry Ones

Posted in art, ASCII Text Art, calligrams, concrete poetry, Halloween, horror poetry, horror stories, pattern poetry, poems, poetry, shape poems, typography, Uncategorized, visual poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 21, 2010 by ecko

“The Angry Ones” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko.  All rights reserved.  From the new book, “Madhouse Theater” by Scott Scherr and John Ecko.

(Please, click on the image once or twice to see the appropriate size)

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL EDITION:  THE ANGRY ONES

As a tribute to my favorite holiday, I’ve decided to release three special edition color versions of  some of my visual nightmares from the new book, Madhouse Theater.  Here’s number three.  I am amazed at how many people I’ve spoken to that claim they’ve had encounters with ghosts at atleast one time in their lives.  I hope it’s never one of these kinds. Can you feel it yet…Halloween is just days away!

~~~

From the collaborative madness of story teller and poet, Scott Scherr, and visual poet, John Ecko, comes this twisted collection of short stories, poetry, and visual nightmares from the darkest corners of their unbalanced minds. The stage is set, our props have been sharpened and our cast of characters are ready to perform their torture on you, fair reader. Within these pages wait a vast assortment of sickos, maniacs, boogeyman, monsters, myths, ghosts and much, much more. Please, take your seats and welcome to the theater. We hope you enjoy the show…although you’ve been here all along.
 
Madhouse Theater is now available for purchase.  Please go and check out my new blog to see an expanded preview of what’s inside the Madhouse.

www.madhousetheater.wordpress.com

You can also purchase directly at:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=2893692

`

Something In A Dark Cloud (Sightings Part 3)

Posted in art, ASCII Text Art, calligrams, concrete poetry, Halloween, horror poetry, horror stories, pattern poetry, poems, poetry, shape poems, typography, Uncategorized, visual poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 18, 2010 by ecko

“Something In a Dark Cloud” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko.  All rights reserved.

This poem didn’t make it into the Madhouse collection, but I thought I’d share it here to finish up my three part pondering on Sightings.  I’m astonished at the amount of reported UFO sightings that I’ve read about online.  Add to that the many stories from those that claim they’ve been abducted by aliens in the middle of the night and then you have to wonder: Do these abductions happen?  It’s one thing to rationally explain the many causes that create strange lights in our evening skies, but what about the abduction claims?  Are they all lying, and if so, to what gain?  Makes me wonder.  On top of all this, I wonder how many rational minded human beings have had encounters but have never reported them.  “Who would believe me?” I can hear them say.  Indeed, who would?…and if that’s the case, and abductions do occur, then how does one stop these strange creatures from taking anyone they please when they creep undercover in the shadow of our doubts and unbelief?  Something to consider, should you ever find yourself waking up in a strange place with no idea where you are or how you got there…assuming it wasn’t the tequilla, or course.

Whether it’s the Boogeyman lurking in the closet, strange beasts that roam the wilderness, or beings from elsewhere visiting our nightly skies, there’s certainly enough evidence to say that people have seen something.  Either our eyes are liars in the dark and our imagination betrays, or perhaps we’ve caught a glimpse into the unknown and our minds are unwilling to accept the strangeness of what our senses have revealed to us…and we deny these strange sightings all together.  I, myself, am skeptical to a point, but not foolish enough to dismiss these sightings completely for there are things man has yet to understand and mysteries that still wait around every dark corner. 

For more strange tales and bizzarre sightings, please check out Madhouse Theater, now available for purchase.

From the collaborative madness of story teller and poet, Scott Scherr, and visual poet, John Ecko, comes this twisted collection of short stories, poetry, and visual nightmares from the darkest corners of their unbalanced minds. The stage is set, our props have been sharpened and our cast of characters are ready to perform their torture on you, fair reader. Within these pages wait a vast assortment of sickos, maniacs, boogeyman, monsters, myths, ghosts and much, much more. Please, take your seats and welcome to the theater. We hope you enjoy the show…although you’ve been here all along.
 
Madhouse Theater is now available for purchase.  Please go and check out my new blog to see an expanded preview of what’s inside the Madhouse.

www.madhousetheater.wordpress.com

You can also purchase directly at:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=2893692

~~~