Wednesday, October 31, 2012

The Bowels of Darkness

Here's my poetic offering for All Hallow's Eve. (Previously published in SNM Horror Magazine)

The Bowels of Darkness   
By Nomar Knight

From the bowels of darkness I came
Looking for my kind of treasure
Wasn't there to play foolish games
Or fulfill your sordid pleasure

Though your smooth flesh was enticing
And your warm eyes a delight
Licking sweat off your brow like icing
No doubt my lust would ignite

But purpose filled my need
So I ventured in the light
Your pale skin had to bleed
No use to struggle or fight

You winced and gagged at my breath
And spat vulgar words of hate
What you smelled was your death
A doomed reality your fate

Tainted soul ventured with me
Into the bleakest of holes
No longer could you see
Your blemishes and moles

Futile cries filled the void
Like razors cutting skin
Deception you employed
Revealed a black heart of sin

In my abyss your screams are harmless
So thrash and flail with all your might
Welcome to the bowels of darkness
Where forever is trapped in fright

©2011 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.
A Nomar Knight Poem.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012


By Nomar Knight

I strut amidst chaotic mess
Intense heat extinguishing my concerns
Agents of destruction scurry
Cries of pain bring me glee

Now the one percent have less
Their giant monuments burn
Inside the rubble are buried
Secrets and lies rot beneath

As the masses watch in awe
I search to even the score
For evil's regenerative powers
Maintain a tireless grip

Perhaps now they'll see their flaws
And open opportunity's door
Life should smell like flowers
And be one happy trip

But I if they should learn nothing
And continue along merciless ways
I'll show them my version of something
Make them beg for end of days

©2012 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.
A Knight Chills Poem.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Ramblins of a Dark Knight: Silent Voices

Ramblings of a Dark Knight: Silent Voices

Hello Knight Chills readers, it’s been awhile since I posted anything. I apologize, but something strange has been happening to me. For some unknown reason, the voices which fill my head with action-packed stories are silent. I spend many nights sitting on my porch, hoping to hear from a character, no matter how dangerous. Unfortunately, I can’t hear them. Gone are the loud screams in the night. Instead, I fill my time watching internet television, listening to music, and as of late, smoking a cigar.
Oh how I long for Candy, my favorite sexy character, to whisper about her current capers, but I guess she’s too busy. Heck, I’m getting desperate. I wouldn’t mind a visit from my favorite female vampire, the Countess Lorraina Sandoval, but she too has opted to stay away from me.
I admit the silence is aggravating. Normally, in between stints from my most popular characters like Oscuro the angel of suicide, or Lieutenant Woods the psychic homicide detective, I would get visits from psychotic killers. Sometimes they would only entice me with a poem instead of a fleshed out story. At least they used to show up and fight for my attention which has never been easy since I have attention deficit disorder.
Unfortunately, my nights have become peaceful. Gone are the restless nights, gone are the nightmares that had me waking up in a cold sweat, barely able to utter a breath before I would eventually regain my composure. The challenge would be to pen the details before sanity wiped away memories of torture, screams, misery, and blood. Oh how I miss the chaos.
Let’s face it. I’m concerned that I’m becoming civilized. The word itself makes me break out in hives. Niceness is making me weak. Another friend of mine called me a kind soul. Yuck! Give me a bloody murder! Point me in the direction of a good evil man to torture. Surely this strange funk can’t continue.
In the event that I go missing once again, send out a search party. Rescue this dark Knight from the dungeon of writer’s block. Feed me information about characters who are suffering and worth caring for. There must be a voice out there that’s loud enough to capture my attention and captivate my creativity. Until then, I’ll sit on my porch, gaze up at the night sky and listen to the maddening silence.
Don’t get burned by the light. Bask in true darkness and send some my way.

Nomar Knight