mercredi 12 août 2015

TRAUMA WEEK - CHALLENGE YOURSELF ! VIA @RiversofGrue @RealJillyG @PhoenixFiery7 #Grueheads #OutOfMyHeadRadio

Trauma Week:
Get Traumatized!
By Keeper of the Crimson Quill

Special thanks to Greg Palko @palkodesigns
for this stunning artwork designed for Trauma Week
“My beloved #‎Grueheads. Firstly I wish to say a massive thanks to everyone who supports the Grue cause. It means so much that we all band together and take care of one another; united we slay after all. Secondly I wish to offer my wholehearted appreciation to all of you for taking #‎TraumaDolls to your hearts. This wonderful film by the exquisite Emilie Flory is set to lead the charge for independent horror filmmakers and show just how much we can achieve if we all join hands. My first response after reading her dynamic screenplay was to smile wide as I knew straight away that it was going to be something truly special. Others are now beginning to spot that too and together we can make one hell of a noise.
This week, courtesy of our very own Gillian Anne Gibson, top influencer of #TraumaDolls and overall splendid soul, we have a rather exclusive challenge for you. Whether you write fiction, poetry, create art, make music, or simply help fly the flag, you have the opportunity to express yourself in whatever way you choose in honor of this exciting prospect. #TraumaDolls bears a concept which is rife with possibilities and there are many ways of getting involved as we look to make an almighty splash over the next seven days. There are already many wonderful things planned and later today we have a very special treat planned to get things moving and hopefully inspire many to pull out all the stops.

I want to express my huge gratitude to Emilie for all of her endeavor. She works tirelessly to spread love and it seems only right that we pay that forward in return collectively. I know just how busy she is on a daily basis but still you only ever see her smile and spread positivity as this is what she is about. #TraumaDolls is much more than just another horror film. It signifies what can be achieved should we all stand together and casts a light forward for other indie filmmakers looking to make their dreams a reality.

Special thanks to :
Gillian Anne Gibson @RealJillyG , Ann Thraxx @AnnThraxx , Adam Ginsberg @theadman40, Phoebe Firestone @PhoenixFiery7,
Richard Bell @rick_nightmare , Greg Palko @palkodesigns , Karin Silva @karinm37
and everyone else looking to get involved in something truly exclusive.
We can do this #Grueheads it's time to get traumatized!

Special thanks to AnnThraxx @AnnThraxx for this glorious artwork designed for

Flashing lights
Are all around
Each heartbeat is lost
in a blanket of sound
For fifteen minutes
they presented her fame
But what good are the rest
if no one knows your name
She was a top model
but prosperity fleeted
now she’s insolvent
beat up and retreated
Slipping from view
she’s falling from grace
but nobody noticed
the cracks in her face
Beauty’s skin deep
here today gone tomorrow
but there’s plentiful trauma
in infinite sorrow
Her heart may be broken
but her brain it still pulses
the evil spills forth
every time she convulses
There’s much still to do
Many plans to be made
Now that she’s accepted
the ultimate trade
Each neuron courts madness
Every synapse spews pain
so that Bijou will never need
feel this again
After so many blows
All feeling is muted
but feeling is something
to which she’s not suited
There’s nothing to feel
as she plucks out your heart
and licks this grenade
then to tear it apart
Deep red on her lips
she wears as a token
as she reads your last rites
with not a word spoken
As your life ebbs away
she can no longer stay
for this has been your
fifteen minutes of fame
Odyssey of Anguish
Trauma Dolls Tribute
By @PhoenixFiery7
“Coming back to conscienceless in a hazy sense of awakening, unaware of what had happened. I jolted upright with ensuing pain that radiated through my body. The room was ill-lighted, only the illuminating glow caressed the room from the vanity mirrors on the opposite wall. Inept at recalling any memory at the present moment, dreadfully dazed as I sat on the floor, with my back half up against the wall in the dressing room. Bagged garments brushing against my head. Shocking to ones senses in itself were the bodies draped with dresses, mannequins, headless which only added to my fervor. The skin on my chest burning and my left leg was screaming in tremendous pain. My thoughts drifted and slapped me like steel, what happened to the dress? This can’t be happening, that was a Ashington there is no way this is happening. Luther is going to be infuriated. That dress was a $65,000.00 masterpiece and I, its last wearer. My mind scrambled as panic began to set in, the air was so thick it was a labor to breath. Sitting here bare-chested in nothing but heels, thigh highs and panties. It’s the dress, the key, has to be the dress. Ivory, silver and white silk embellished with crystals, a magnificent strap less wrap and who wanted it that badly and where had it gone?”...
By Richard Bell @rick_nightmare
Traumatized Challenge
Bruno hired the girls from the squats around the city
His boss was made of shadows and bereft of love or pity
Cash up front, no questions they got a message from a burner phone
A warehouse by the riverside and proviso that no one must know
Was this art? Was it style? Was it ultimate expression?
The girls would walk in haute couture, the House of Style Excision
And those whom made an impact on the dark exclusive clientele

Would be dispatched by gunshot in their stride and stripped off where they fell
The catwalk a snuff runway for the decadent, the bored elite
The bold designs, materials exclusive to a murder meet
Every outfit purchased was a life dispatched with souvenir
The seasons colours bathed in red delivered with a part that’s sheared
“Walk my little sparrow, my waif with nobody that cares
Shimmer in the spotlight and glide like you are cushioned air
There and back and quick change for the payday of a movie star
With outfits on to die for that will never make the H Bazaar”…


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