Author: H.M. Nolan

I love all monsters, mutants, aliens and mythical creatures. In comparison I find most humans rather dull. I write mostly dark urban fantasy with a light spattering of horror. You also may find a little bit of poetry here and there, although that can be a bit of a hit or miss. I grew up in Wisconsin and lived in Florida for almost ten years. I currently live outside of Las Vegas, much to my dismay. Although the weather is nice and there's plenty of desert space to bury the bodies. Besides writing I also like to paint poorly, drink champagne, eat Mexican food, and read comic books. Sometimes all at once. I love plaid and mohawks and people that laugh at my jokes. I hate finger lickers, chick flicks, and people that don't laugh at my jokes. I share the same birth date as King Henry VIII which explains why I love a good be-heading and I hope to die fat and crazy just like him. In a previous life I was a Pharaoh in Egypt but I don't have any evidence besides I love the Mummy movies so you're just going to have to take my word for it. There's not a whole lot in life I take seriously, including myself. Life is too short for that.

Nirvana lyrics on napkins

And perhaps he’ll think

To summon me

One sorrowful day

With nirvana lyrics

Scribbled on napkins

Advertisements

Knives in my eyes

You said there were knives

In my eyes

And my tongue split into a fork

You said there were lies

On my lips

And the lines off my hips

Formed sways of sins

But I tell you this now

You never really knew me

And if you want to kill me baby

Then take the knives from my eyes

If you want to taste me

Take the fork from my tongue

But I tell you this now

You never really knew me

At all 

Muddy American Flags

We seek the darkness

thunderstorm funerals

muddy American flags

and trains off their tracks

I loved the picture of you out in the water

the wind made your hair wild

Nothing lasts…

I caught a blue glass-eyed wink

and a toothless grin

through the slow rising twirl of cigarette smoke and green flesh

I could smell the decay on your brain

It was a rainy day

when they put you in the ground.

Everything is open wounds now

and a bland thanksgiving dinner sucked through a straw

We forgot somehow, how to laugh

Could have been the slow drip of morphine

or the simple way our bones cracked.

Death dragged his heavy feet

as real life licked me

like a sandpaper tongue

Reminded me I am just the nameless meat

between the lion’s teeth

and we all die alone.

In black in white she sat

her legs demurely crossed

with her crooked cat eyed glasses

Tell me about your chaos lady,

the bloody slashes across your face

your dead baby sister

at the bottom of the outhouse.

It’s no wonder

in the end we all go mad.

Would it be ok if I took this gloom

and weaved it into some hideous mask?

I will hide behind it for the rest of my days.

 

In Memory of my grandfather

mirrors

he says he never

looks in the mirror

he expects to see someone

better

handsome

charismatic

But I think he is all of those things

Ironic

Every time I look in the mirror

I expect to see a goblin

but instead it’s this girl

with magenta hair

and I’m not her at all

it feels fake somehow

 

But he is handsome

I’m the goblin