What Fears Become from The Horror Zine

Introducing the NEW Horror Zine book HERE!

Featuring the work of dead beat poet

Published by Imajin Books

From horror masterminds Bentley Little, Ramsey Campbell, Graham Masterton, Joe R. Lansdale, Elizabeth Massie, Piers Anthony, Melanie Tem, Cheryl Kaye Tardif, Scott Nicholson, Conrad Williams, Simon Clark and a host of other respected authors, poets and artists comes WHAT FEARS BECOME, a terrifying collection of bone-chilling, nail-biting horror that is sure to keep you awake until all hours of the night.

This anthology brings together some of the best works from The Horror Zine, an online magazine dedicated to giving you chills and thrills. Edited by Jeani Rector, each story, poem and art work within showcases an international talent that will give you shivers.

Featuring three poems by dead beat poet [b.a.d].

Published by Imajin Books

"Each spine-tingling chiller takes the reader into the depths of eerie imaginations!" ―Fangoria


Infinite Mobius Feelings

 The lovey dovey period expands

please do that swirl thing that you love to do

emotional proximation convects

soul is measured in countable packets

when i hear you cry it’s for a reason

never knowing what the whole story is

infinite loop of mobius feelings

looks being unexpectedly captured

spooning and sleeping in the R.E.M.

everyone is beautiful in our dreams.

Mirror Self Convection

Mirroring all people is what we do

you are what you do see and want to be

smile begets smile frown begets frown

people become what they see on t.v.

pervasive paradigm paralysis

there is only reflection of your self

the deck is stacked against your consciousness

your free will is only partially real

we are attracted to what we want now

aetherspheric cerebral convection.

Socially Faded Oasis

He’s always watching from the hill
he’s always out there on a dare
making sure i always softly fell
making sure i never much care
paving my private path to hell.

The walking dead can’t be tortured enough
taken in by a handshake and a grin
complements and accolades are never enough
nothing will ever be the same again
there will never be the end of ever enough.

The hypocritical oasis paves the path very fast
the time has come once again to wear the hood
hot is not what’s on the plate or will ever last
the clock of my time-line is cracked for good
nothing can be done to alter the faded past.

Nothing is as it seems and all lost in pseudo rhyme
nothing is as it was or as there will never be affection
one bad deed deserves one of equal and opposite polarity
life is stranger than any conceived vivid-self deception
digging my own grave one self deception at a time.

Build a plank made of pop cycle sticks and bubble gum
an invited wrath and welcomed long long away after-math
being repeatedly stabbed in the back but not nearly deep enough
the aethersphere is always waiting and full of friendly staff
although myself shines on the outside it’s full of dark stuff.

There is no loathing when it’s backed by a deserved hate
doing the left thing of a least resistant slippery path
fear is the driver to avoid the bitter truth blue platter plate
retrograde ex uses and selectively highlighted past
the chance for redemption was lost long ago to fate.

There is only the waiting to see what happens next
seeing and understanding happens in a welcomed find
progress of an empty fate has always been my vexed
dry by day and night to call me a fool would be kind
the reflection in the mirror is a monster self-hexed.

If i just hold on tight while i become the food
life hasn’t been mine in such a stretch to see
bad guys always hide behind a shield of good
my worst enemy and arch nemesis is b.A.d me
life isn’t real and he as me is now understood.

i Know Not

i know it’s my fault
i know this by now
i know you meant it all
i know you know how.

i know your heart has no heat
i know i can’t be sure of mine
i know you laughed at my demise
i know you hope there’s no lifeline.

i know that you enjoyed yourself
i know that it’s now my turn
i know you’re still watching
i know you’re fearful that you’ll burn.

i know it’s not your fault
i know it hardly never ever is
i know your blood is laced with salt
i know you never ask why not.

Sassy Shackled Ankels

This world of social engineering is painfully engaging
the cup seems dried with dregs of vacant bitterness
voices sewn shut and stained cheeks with tearing
let the crowd stick to oval holes of emptiness
a blind mole-like mentality blindly hurting.

Sweeter than you think of a unique visionary
blazing forests don’t follow the damp leader
cane flailings dance with a lacklustre morality
feelings come deeper and swim with a sinker
embrace the differently downtrodden eternally.

The moments you touch with reaching velvet silken hands
hidden places aching that only you can make ache that way
the omega love/lust connection is fraught with hour sands
bruising kisses of the evening hardness then soft by day
feeding addictions of desire with mutually planned plans.

Meeting the needs in between that of want and strife
there’s a razor thin line between sweetened and sweet
hair pulling passion with a lie we both share in rife
committed and adulterous while still in mourning to meet
being entwined in a perfect union with a lover of life.

Shackled ankles are always ready to be slightly unbound
baking cookies in negligee and silk scarves flowing
be sweet and rough and change my face to being unfrowned
transparency in a flawed interlude of internal glowing
tongue twisted lips tied to your singing sultry sound.

A modicum of “difference” makes you more understanding
a prescience believed singing and shouting it out loud
a really lived beatitude life of raw nude existing
a cloud of your conscience seeing the facebook crowd
a quirky chaser brazenly defiant in the act of living.

The broken and battered are a kindred disjointed folk
just like being there the yokes of a never-ending pain
years of tears peppered with split seconds of pseudo hope
flowing syllabic evolutions are going to once again regain
who knows but for now just write while you continue to choke.

Knowing that perhaps the best work is laying latent
kicking rocks is gone forever replaced with shallow breath
take a sick pleasure in knowing that few get my intent
see me like they used to before my poetic birth and death
lurking in the locked box with stripped poems of discontent.

Square pegs shining in a semi-final round of proclivity
prelude to alliterative experience of intimate assonance
dancing with words one at a time or maybe up to twenty
plenty of rhetoric spewed with silent cognitive dissonance
words take on a life of their own with each one worth a penny.

A visage is smeared in the angst of tumultuous torrent
heckled profusely for being hated and once again shamed
no one cares and they can’t see the trees or the forest
adoration of writing their way out of ever being gamed
the things you’re beaten for are usually your favourite.

Transmogrification of three poems by Amy Gabrial

Pharmacide; Philosophy : Art : Physics

Agonising Bliss

I want to taste your blood,
as it drips from your eye.
It let’s me live longer,
and gets me high.

You are now my victim,
and thought it was love.
I put you on,
like a hand in a glove.

It’s time to say goodbye,
there will be no mercy in this.
For you this is agony,
for us it is bliss.


Everything Deadly

We dug your grave,
before you were dead.
In case we get lucky,
and you die instead.

It just a matter,
of time you see.
Until you and your grave,
are happy as can be.

We”ll be right here,
keeping it ready.
When you’re around,
everything is deadly.


Tragic Weekend

My weekend was tragic,
how was yours?
I had to get down,
on all fours.

Every one has a blast,
important meetings did make.
I was the last one to leave,
and to stop being fake.

You say I love you,
I think you are lying.
You think I’m happy,
I say I’m dying.

Placeless Petting

All night staying,
stabbing hands playing.

Everyone looks happy,
everyone feels crappy.

Imperfections don’t lie,
don’t even try.

Dancing while placeless,
seeking once caress.

Taking and tripping,
showing while petting.

Fire lights scream,
eyes lazer beam.

Calling head picture,
making us stricter.

We need compromise,
means being wise.

Frictionless moving reality,
relentlessly to be.

Taking over dimensions,
making our decisions.

Only you dare,
share with care.

Sound of Your Face

I think it’s time,

to hear your voice,

It’s not up to me,

it’s not our choice.


Longing to hear loudly,

the sound of your face.

Washing waters stray,

singed leather & your lace.


When night swallows day,

you’re here with me now.

Somatic aether connection,

don’t ask me why or how.



Rachel Crogger

Ratchel’s eyes are inked and darkening,
her perfectly scared smile is to die for.

She expects the worse or at least nothing,
putting up walls to kick down the door.

Promises really piss her off when faking,
empty dried eyes and disperet cries roar.

Pathetic words of silence waiting for writing,
choke us all with shouting tears ready to pour.

This is how it feels when a new day is coming,
if she likes my poem bad enough maybe I’ll score.

My Suffering Hurts

It’s not very pleasant,
living my meaningless life,
Empty and alone always,
full of crowded strife.

I would welcome now,
more than any one thing,
Is an end to my dowerness,
this thing a human being.

It only hurts more,
knowing you are there.
Everyone surrounding me,
doesn’t really care.

They all laugh and think it funny,
when my suffering increases.
They would rather my life stay shattered,
falling apart with razor sharp pieces.

I see no end to this path,
what’s the use driving into walls.
I feel now that no matter what,
never answer when anybody calls.

Platonic Dimension Domination

Platonic dimensions form true and false perceptions,
of a super-dark and something symmetrical Universe,
throwing caution to the wind and vanishing inclinations,
letting them do their thing from now till the next verse.

Scribing the flow of words that are coming from within,
with the distant dark thoughts of my inner other voice,
it feels so good to finally get them out it must be a sin,
using the double entendre will glow the aether choice.

If there is such a thing as love at the very first sighting,
why doesn’t it happen all the time with everyone you see?
if everyone was in love there would be nothing but fighting,
to my favorites gods i pray that it never happens to me.

Please do me the honor of doing the hard thinking for you,
it’s shouldn’t be that hard because of the ailing,
i am already doing most of the hard work for you too,
and as a reward give me the pain of all of my fault failing,

The pleasant kind of of good fortune rarely swings my way,
when they do they bring along a bag of brand new tragedy,
the shoes in which i’m walking are all tattered and warn away,
show your emotions and a feeding frenzy begins to get steady.

Our senses are grounded in philosophy whether you know it or not,
don’t be the one to undo the fun with all of your lieing about fear,
a single correlation does not define a definitive causation of rot,
your cerebral booze provides no hide space in the aetherssphere.

i love you like a sister and haven’t spoken to mother or brother in years.
miracles don’t know how to find me and i’m not quite sure what they are,
i sometime wish i wasn’t already dead so at least i could enjoy the tears,
exercising raw power against someones will is no way to begin or go far.

Haven’t you ever sensed you were thrown right into,
a ‘can’t do anything right’ column and in the unbelievable,
”there is something wrong with everything you do’ row,
that goes on row after row in bold typed repeatedly.

Because you really enjoy it when you tell me no man,
satiate your primary ego without me and alone at sea,
unless you are invited and know how to do it like a fan,
please cease and desist trying to enjoy dominating me.

my kingdom is crumbling after being burned to a singe,
i am more than damaged and say yes to most everything,
my emotions are warped or gone to the corner to cringe,
thoughts of kissing anyone makes my stomach turn and fling.

Getting back up after a fall without the aid of a hand or flowers,
most everyone around here would rather see me flat on my back,
thermodynamical thought waves bring transition transmission powers,
complex & simple is what i desire & require for the next two- way track.

11 i Then Wishes

i wish i was an incurable alcoholic,
then i could forever experience aa rhetoric.

i wish i had a cancer of the something,
then would come the real sympathy sting.

i wish i was an addicted drug addict,
then i could enjoy the trip while i’m at it.

i wish i could be just about anyone else or anybody,
then none of this would be my scathing reality.

i wish i was covered in scars from head to toe,
then for it i would have something to show.

i wish i was once again the good kind of happily insane,
then i wouldn’t notice or at least enjoy the pain.

i wish i was blinded by a painful eye wring,
then the seeing would end and my mind could sing.

i wish i could experience something again besides the grit,
then anything would matter at least a micro bit.

i wish the emotional leeches would all just go away,
then the hurt would go with them and stay.

I wish we were something like a real friend,
then it wouldn’t end when i forget to press send.

i wish someone would invent or discover my remedy,
then i could recover from being the one and only me.

Whose Plague Is It ?

Its flattened body shaped like a sunfish,
maneuvers with ease through hair shafts.
Its large hind legs were adapted for jumping,
it could travel quickly speaking vertical laughs.

It’s row of spines catches the hair,
with a deep and backward pull.
So It would not be dislodged,
if Its host scratched it off full.

With Its rows of sharp mandibles,
It bit into the flesh unnoticed.
Salivary secretions caused an itch,
sensations in the host most remotest.

Even though It had just punctured the skin,
the unfortunate host extracts Its meal of blood,
It was still hungry because of the infection,
poison that multiplies within Its system like mud.

blockage in Its throat when It attempted to feed,
the meal could not pass below the blocked cage.
Instead It puked up blood back into the host,
It was unable to swallow Its own blood back rage.

It would eventually starve to death within the interlude,
containing the poison It will die of the disease It did transmit.
You and I are the vectors in an event of horrific magnitude,
because the plague is finally here and you are really It.


Transmogrified from “WE ALL FALL DOWN” by Jeani Rector

Gleening Grin Reepers

welcome to death the darling and dashing grin reeper gleened,
through very attractive masks with the enticing demotiv shy grin,
popular lore is wrong about transition it’s not at all what you believe,
we’ve been expecting your imminent arrival so do please come right on in.

here the choice is yours to choose heaven or hell and there’s no going word backs,
we grin reapers are here as your subconscious guides to give you the final choice tour,
please proceed beyond the red rope to the vip line for the transport to hell on the two way traxx,
your friends have been eagerly a waiting for your shadow because for what they ill you are the cure.

the car was wall to wall red velvet with plishy cushions for your recently transformed perfect ass,
drinks were served all the way down by a mile high qualifier and they tasted like a sweet quest,
when our gates to hell glided open there was a surprising bash of your favorite foie gras,
to your surprise with a dash of demise were faces just as you remembered them best.

instead of dark and deadly you see hot and sexy among rolling hills and cool clubs,
there is no fire or brimstone and instead more sin with perfect tone and lashes,
no teeth gnashing and instead they get to be dragged over ass & bare backs,
it’s all golf courses and hot tubs with scantily clad servant lads and lasses.

this doesn’t seem so bad you tell yourself as the drink begins its zings,
you finally begin to understand and sorta start to like the gleen grin.
because as far as you can see it really can’t get better than this,
everything ever wanted with just a taint of unforgivable sin.

just to be sure you have to check and take the rest of the tour,
the round trip traxx car was a little plain and nothing good was served,
as far as you are concerned nothing served shouldn’t be part of your de jour,
the door swished open and there was no welcome but you barely noticed or observed.

eventually you ask the grin reaper where’s saint-what’s-his-name and the answer is a shrug,
oh well you tell your self you are probably not staying anyway and splif just then they appeared.
welcome he said as he cracked open and fingered the reaper ‘he’s can’t look in here, he is a bad drug’.
you float right in like you own the space that you’re flying in but the air is smeared with something weird.

you tell yourself this is kinda cool with weightless decisions & an aerial view not possible down there,
just as your second guess is coming something crazy happens that makes the final decision easy,
everyone you know that wasn’t down there standing in rows that looks like a triangle sphere,
they too appear just as you remember them with anger glowing eyes and looks of queezy.

The first few rows are who loved you and they all have their heads bowed in disgrace,
the rest held high heads because they’ve been waiting as long as the friends below,
the rows behind hold those whom you lied and who lost in your one person race,
the long row in back are those you royally fucked over just a short time ago.

to hell with us you say to your guide and check back in your temp wing,
the air up here if filled with fear and there is not not much to do here.
then the ones you stole emotions from started to cheer and sing,
in decent you sensed something different in the form of a tear.

the car disappeared and replaced with a caged cargo elevator,
the only button to press is down and it’s always the right size,
you wet yourself seeing that your greeter was hell’s mayor,
always try to choose your friends and muses very wise.

Undead Wedding

The undead are dancing,
as they become betrothed.
The dark wave is pounding,
as the Machine foretold.

Swaying in and devout,
to a strange kind of Hate.
Say I do with a shout,
be my dancing mate.

The chapel will be a hot-funk,
with Mz. Samantha and Xander,
spinning Goth mixed with Steampunk,
for your Pretty audio slander.

The reception hall gets on your whirl,
with Dark Electro and New Wave.
The room steams hot with a Melting Girl,
and Tomas Diablo dj’s to your grave.


Giggles and Fire

It seems so natural,
wanting your hurt.
You think I love you,
I only flirt.

You say that you’re helping,
and just show up.
But all that you do,
is slurp from my cup.

Your existence is optional,
from my perspective.
I’ve opened my mind,
to be more selective.

You wake every morning,
to the scent of my breath.
Wanting a kiss,
wishing for death.

When you turn,
from ashes to rust.
We”ll scrape you right up,
nothing but dust.

A creature of habit,
is what you’ve become.
We’ll set you on fire,
and giggle as you run.