The World of an Abecedarian

Written by Horror Novelist Daton L. Fluker

http://twitter.com/datonflukers

Criminal hearted but enacted in a guitar’s thrusting crown.
The belly of society is around.
The abecedarian faces the devils’ house on their own.
As the warriors prepare his or her norce for their nations final war-zone.
She dresses in her gown.
However, the roses of serenity are gone.
Because of ordinance and predetermination,
The flowers are violently grown with the hellion of heavy metal sound.

…………. Extended words……

A new world will be built. And it will be designed on the pedals of drum beats and with the vaccine of words. It’s my world. In Daton L. Fluker’s portal of abandonment; in his dreams of opportunity, as many hearts pound in sacred fire. The new world will be finish in due time.

PS:
Rock me out baby.

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“If I had a Suicide Letter”

By Horror Novelist, Daton L. Fluker

http://twitter.com/datonflukers

To My Beloved Friend:
I touched the panther on its shoulder. At first the cat was quiet and calculative. When I did it again, she ate me alive.
When will I dream again? NEVER. How can I pull myself back-up? NEVER.
How can I stand if you are not on my side? WITH HIDDEN STRENGTH…
My love, what else would you like me to do? Put a sword through my heart and video tape it?
I am Daton L Fluker the Horror Novelist.
Words don’t affect us the same! Words fail me!
Words build your torn up dreams! Words give you direction!
Words hurt my bones!
We live in consultation. No matter how information affects us, even if we don’t win, it’ll equipped us with the means to confront our fears.
I’m a different type of emotion.
I’m a different type of entertainer.
I’m a different type of star.
I’ll massage your shoulders, and give you your favorite flavored milkshake, while hand feeding you nightmares in an adequate climate.
Ride with me or die by me. Wipe blood from your tongue! Nightmares exist in our cadence. Loyalty is unyielding when we don’t walk with friends.
Why does war grow when men have the ability to collaborate to entrench darkness?
Because nightmares as you and I won’t die without contracts.
We need love to my dear darknesses.
Because we are beautiful fowls spreading or wings, and we want more consideration! Because we want more unification!
Forgetting darkness was here to, they see us rise. They forgot about monsters! They forgot that we live off ditch water and still are free!
Why war when you don’t know who will fight with you?
Let’s remain stagnant in shadows…
They forgot about a humans ingenuity to live humble and to live in obscurity! They forgot about our hearts!
Our world fades away with lascivious memories.
You made me feel empty the last time we spoke. Why can’t you just please me the way I want? Why can’t you make me feel good after you broke me down?
A slave serves on his knees and cries out to an angel, “Can you love me? I beg.”
She replies, “I can never love you because I’m gay.”
Nightmare baby, please, love me with lust. Nightmare baby, get on your knees in front of me with your watery mouth. Nightmare baby kiss me.
Light left then darkness came with-ought warning.
A human said, “how did you get here?” Darkness said, I never left your side.
“Dare I say, pleased to meet you?” I’m pleased to meet you to Madam. You are so elegant. I’ll kiss your hand.
A beautiful woman is what started their misery, and a beautiful women will carefully choose the flowers in her garden.
As the night is tariffed, her slaves steal milk and bread from her table. The goddess sits and watches them burn in agony.
She is their disease. No matter how they adore her, she’ll never kiss them. She’ll never hear their heartbeats.
But if she wakes up out of her charismatic sleep to hear their hearts, then the flowers of earth who worship her every breathe will soon tear her apart because she’s irresistible, and she’s amazing. She’s their beautiful nightmare.
Fear burns away when the last flickering avenue light blew chalice plates. Fear carries headless monsters in transcendent hordes.
Did I say something inappropriate? Why can’t I believe in love? Yes, it’s a fantasy, but it could be.
Am I that disgusting to you?
If you tell me that I’m gross again, then I’d grant you the blackest revenge. Because of belligerence, our nightmare ends.
Goodbye my beauty. Goodbye my friend.

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“How Degradation kills Love” written by Daton L. Fluker
http://twitter.com/datonflukers

Hate me my beauty, and I will hate you. Forever is forever.
People stop loving you after a while. That what hurts the most.
Those who do nothing shall witness a kingdom rise.
Those who stay shall progress.
Those who leave shall be lost and buried under innovation.
Darkness came after love left.
It was the beginning and the ending. Our shadows are the only thing that sustains truth after all.
They become meek. They say “the balloon blows away hard. You’ll explode just to be touched.” But no one ever comes to help with your sensual desires.
The 2014 man says “I did not want to comfort her.
When I needed beauty to comfort me she left cold.
Leave I say! Then I did not need beauty anymore.”
Things that are torn ain’t dead nor worn.
Sow it with needles and mend it with patches, open your dreams and break the latches.
When I was ready for her, beauty was lost.
“You are not ready for me” she said.
Buildings ash in flames. Dead bodies powder the streets.
“I love my country.”
A phrase that can destroy an entire epic era, if what you state is not true.
Maybe you are too commensurable to be loved.
Baby, no one can love you if you believe that you are too exquisite to be taking serious.
The fire that expands through your body when someone touches you, how can you delete that from your essence, from your existence?
I’m weak, but my friend, love is free. So is meat, and nightmares shine on me. I burn in heat. I go forward for I am beast.
I call out to her. The dark one is better seen in flashing lights. Once nightmares are gone, only the final hour exist.
And who am I to say I love you, to say I care. I am nothing. I’m only the muse. I’m a horror novelist with no ability to control my feelings.
How can I adore something so precious and beautiful when I have a mind full of darkness, treachery and hatred. I’m not suppose to, but I love you.
I am strong, but yet I am weak. I cried when you said, “No you can’t love me.”
I’ll become a freak. I promise you, I will never feel again.
It’s right, I speak the truth. I’m rotten because I’m outspoken.
I can make tears fall from your pretty eyes baby-doll because I am corruption.
Your heart divides in pieces. Baby, there’s no way to fill an empty fuel tank after theirs no more stations. Degradation is how it broke.

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“Please, no Black Men”
written by Daton L. Fluker
http://twitter.com/datonflukers

I am the muse, and I apologize that my tongue ashes with the fears of nightmares. But still, beauty can be found in my gums.
Put your ear to my chest. My heart beats slow. Blood pumps through my arteries. You have proof that I’m yours and evidence to prove our existence.
However, you’ve forgotten me. That hurt. So, do you think I’ve forgotten your actions?
And the night is like a dark storm. Nothing’s perfect. And the mirror’s image is low, but the dark reflections are still accounted for.
Only if darkness fears you and I. What spins blind-servants are playgrounds that attempt to house the frugality of entertainment.
It tilts, it turns. She’s beautiful. They don’t know what to make of me. I blew stardust in their ear. I’m lighting their imaginations on fire. I’m destine to be a burning star.
I post sincerity in my words.
Forever is forever.
They won’t accept that you are a star. They want accept that you are a lovely day and a crumbling heart.
The truth is only as raw as It can be. The lost can only lay naked in front of you on a bed of flowers but still not accept.
Hear the sky with your heart. Let rocking roll music blaze my sweet darkness. I’ll be your whisper baby. I’ll be your muse.
You don’t believe I have a heart? You tell them, no Black Men, please. But you are still sucking me off at the midnight hour.
Thank you. I need it. You are a heartless whore. And you’ll die heartless. Using me for your pleasure is heartless, and you’ll be buried that way.
I love what you do to me so much. As the muse, I’m grinding concrete that’s why I’m your mortar. That’s why I’m your toy. That’s why I’m filthy.
I’ll do it again for you. I’ll be your muse again, and again. Over and over again. I’ll be your nightmare. My love, you are an Angel.
I’ll give you my heart. I’ll give you my bush ridden tongue. I’ll give the world my crime. They are magic. Here, take my written words. Kneel to me!

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Dedicated to the lovely Tori Lamour

Tori Lamour Twitter
http://twitter.com/ToriLamour

Home Page
http://www.torilamour.com

The Soulless shall Love Again
Written by Daton L. Fluker

Daton’s Twitter
http://twitter.com/datonflukers

I know it’s real. I know you are serious. I know you’re beautiful.
Darker than anything I’ve ever seen. What do we say to beautiful when the night says that beautiful is dark, lustful, even got damn nasty.
They are tedious. Yes, they are serious. That’s why they look at you the way they do. Monsters they call men.
My dear, I am not an evil man. Those names you called me hurt. I’m a horror novelist, not an evil worshiper. But you believe that we are the soulless.
She’s beautiful. Oh, the things I’d do to her in the dark. I’ve seen her in the light. She’s more than welcome to the pleasure she anticipates.
And thy forgets me when I close my eyes forever. An angel sleeps.
Nightmare woman abstracts kindness into my affliction. When rain comes, a shadow of darkness puddles over the earth.
Every minute it changes. Every minute it breaks. Every minute it lumps. And every minute it bleeds in cracks. What am I?
I gave you my heart my love and not thy tongue. I speak through my flesh thy love. I write through thy bone and not thy fingers thy love.
What am I?
When the sun rises, dream under Mother Nature’s tall vegetation. When it’s night, follow the brightest star. Follow the North Star.
Thy should understand thy wrath of thy actions. I speak faithfully. Did not my tongue get cut out.
You asked, “why do I write dark words?”
Beautiful women fancy many sexual positions with me and my tongue. I’m a sinner. I’m cursed to be a muse. I’m the darkness, and I’m the light.
You did not see her like this. But you worshiped her that way. You gave her your soul. Do you see who I am now?
Are you entertained or fighting me? I’m not your enemy. Do you hear my sniffles now? Do you see my tears now? Do you see my love?
We are not afraid to speak our hearts. That’s what makes us human.
If we can’t speak, then we are sleeping in our own hell.
My razor heart was stunned with warts, there are sequels, with dreams that never won a part.
There’s no blood on my tongue, for the blade is dull. There’s no action in my words, for the night is unsaid. And we conceive thy soulless love.

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Little Worth written by Daton L. Fluker on August 31, 2010.

Dedicated to Freddie Mercury.

What is this thing that builds and inventiveness but then diminishes away?

Pinus palustris needles bewilders in the forest.

And sadness and hate builds inside the long leaf pine tree.

Life is bothering the needles of the tree.

The wind blows green with darken hate.

The ground finds a place for Earth to recap itself.

So does the foundation of life finding a way to weld a new garden.

God, I beg you to forgive Adam and Eve and let us venture our souls again.

It’s that one moment that is very sweet to most, but still brutally miserable for others.

Sisters and brothers dream in our garden.

Mothers bear fruit, and the tree of life moves on butchering us fruitfully.

Catch my tears with your rag.

Tape my wounds and whip my ass.

A thousand forever’s forgotten; most are remembered but all is lost.

The most valuable things are given by time.

A kiss a touch and even a smell is given by time.

Appetites grow uncountable.

Greed penetrates kayos.

Art is now captured and not canvassed.

Time tortures dreams but inevitably destroys us.

Nothing is certain not even a perennial source of water.

The emulation to survive has taking away valuable time.

Is this sadness are a regrettable remembrance of forever?

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Video  —  Posted: February 23, 2014 in Camalot Dimension 360, Entertainment, Messages From Daton
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Covenantally written by Daton L. Fluker

Dedicated to Lzzy Hale
and Alecia Beth Moore -Pink

We can’t fully understand civilization. When the shadows call, I come running. When the light calls, I hide in the shadows.
To my beautiful world. We should stand, and not understand. We are, we were, and we will be great.
That’s all I need is Mother Nature. When I see her, all the pain goes away. I’ll die happy. I’ll die with love in my heart.
That’s how dark poetry was created. Silhouettes dance on a pink wall. An eyeball is amazed by silent music. All hale the shadows.
I don’t know everything; I’m a star. I’m broken. I’m not beautiful. But, I know my words can make tears fall down your lovely tear-ducts.
I can play with you my dear. I love beautiful. And I adore ugly. I can love all.
And I will be, even if you don’t believe I am.
God’s Darkness told me that you will love me. That’s why I am.
I will only except more. I’ll never except less! Moiety, I’ll never except you. You SOB! Never!
My nightmare tantrum. who will stop me? Me.
Who will break me? Me.
Who will keep me full of energy and passion? My dear friend, you.
Tears bleed through my heart. Is not intelligence given by time, and not by birth? What if a dog doesn’t bow anymore, is it still a dog?
Hatred guides us to glaciers when dark clouds loses their medium of fire. Who cares about bivalence when our soul flies, when we’re free?
I told you that you’re beautiful. But, her wrist shatters when her arm breaks the coffee table because of her nightmare sneezes? Her dark hour.
I’ll eat your cookie out baby-doll. Who changes sexual favors given freely and non excepted for love? As her wrist shatters, my heart breaks.
I dance on the edge. I’m sorry my chest burns with holes. They bleed with sorrow. Who can love me? Who understands my poetic tongue?
I’ve defeated myself because I’ll bow down to her; I will. So the dog is not a dog when it stops bowing its head; it’s haunting the haunted.
Her kiss curves my head. Patented on shelves and in fireplaces, her touch mildews. She said, Ignore me and when you do see this you’ll cry hard.
I’m not a poet – Ha, ha, ha. I’m just a man. We drew silhouettes on our skin in the darkness. We drank like fish and we made dirty lustful love.
I wanted you to see me naked and on hard. I wanted to kiss you under jet streams. My words did not speak to you fool. My heart did.
She left me riding on a rocket. Nightmare creatures dance filthy in there borrows as a muse stays hidden in his cave until his dark hour.
Covenantally.

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