Poetry competition CLOSED 17th November 2014 3:24pm
WINNER
RavenofSorrow
RavenofSorrow
Halloween
Wife
A
fight
tonight.
I
hear
them
scream.
This
is
not
a
dream.
There
is
blood
on
the
walls.
I
see
him
crawl.
Her
eyes
filled
with
hate.
He
has
made
it
to
the
front
gate.
She
finally
lost
it.
He
crys,
she
laughs.
He
pleads,
She
lets
him
bleed.
He
never
cared
or
meet
her
needs.
He
has
hit
her,
now
its
her
turn
to
return
the
favor.
She
hits
him
one
last
time.
That
night
she
took
his
life.
She
really
hated
being
his
A
fight
tonight.
I
hear
them
scream.
This
is
not
a
dream.
There
is
blood
on
the
walls.
I
see
him
crawl.
Her
eyes
filled
with
hate.
He
has
made
it
to
the
front
gate.
She
finally
lost
it.
He
crys,
she
laughs.
He
pleads,
She
lets
him
bleed.
He
never
cared
or
meet
her
needs.
He
has
hit
her,
now
its
her
turn
to
return
the
favor.
She
hits
him
one
last
time.
That
night
she
took
his
life.
She
really
hated
being
his
The Hall Of The Damned
The scream of sheer death
it deflates your lungs
and rips out your breath
it tears apart
the ventricles of your heart
like the demonic sounds
of a fallen angels harp
the evil flame forming faces
howl and burn mental ash traces
that lick your brain with hot pain
which lights up the dark
to show the insane
in their stark underworld
of plughole down drain .
A soul stealing trident
Satan spiked and hell sent
tri pronged and wrapped
in a serpent
stands arrow capped
in an evil dominant
inside are trapped spirits of unrepent
and infinite , expirement
they ache for your
desperate , detriment
and life retirement .
So how can you be here
if your not dead yet
a demon leans near and says
this is what you might get
only fear if you gamble
and lose the bet
your soul so dear
shall be speared in an eternal net .
The hall of the damned
full of gone murderers that hanged
now they're hell framed
their pictured in pain
forever tortured
dead and inane
they cry out contorted
faintly my name
as I leave Satans
emporium of reign
I know after this
that I'll play the right game
and never shall I diss
the lords name ever again
nor dare never shall I speak it
in vain .
The scream of sheer death
it deflates your lungs
and rips out your breath
it tears apart
the ventricles of your heart
like the demonic sounds
of a fallen angels harp
the evil flame forming faces
howl and burn mental ash traces
that lick your brain with hot pain
which lights up the dark
to show the insane
in their stark underworld
of plughole down drain .
A soul stealing trident
Satan spiked and hell sent
tri pronged and wrapped
in a serpent
stands arrow capped
in an evil dominant
inside are trapped spirits of unrepent
and infinite , expirement
they ache for your
desperate , detriment
and life retirement .
So how can you be here
if your not dead yet
a demon leans near and says
this is what you might get
only fear if you gamble
and lose the bet
your soul so dear
shall be speared in an eternal net .
The hall of the damned
full of gone murderers that hanged
now they're hell framed
their pictured in pain
forever tortured
dead and inane
they cry out contorted
faintly my name
as I leave Satans
emporium of reign
I know after this
that I'll play the right game
and never shall I diss
the lords name ever again
nor dare never shall I speak it
in vain .
Deserted Heart
What apparition is this, that appeareth to me
In this swelteringly hot desolation?
It appears that her face is a shining oasis
A poor lonely travelers' salvation
But do I risk becoming bones
Amongst these dry foreboding stones
For something that may not actually be
But product of insanity?
Or do I keep on heading east
Through the paths of ravenous beasts
Who's gaping mouths and sharpened jaws
Lie waiting for my slightest pause?
Or do I make my journey west
In my hopes of finding rest
I'm hopelessly lost, I must confess
The truth is hardest to digest
Still I keep my steady tread
Though my feet may feel like led
There should be rest just up ahead
Some solace in a nice warm bed
Reality is fading fast
And my mind is fleeing south
Thinking I found the fount at last
I shovel sand into my mouth
When the travelers heading north
See my bloated, sand filled corpse
They will stop, and they will start
To mourn for my deserted heart
What apparition is this, that appeareth to me
In this swelteringly hot desolation?
It appears that her face is a shining oasis
A poor lonely travelers' salvation
But do I risk becoming bones
Amongst these dry foreboding stones
For something that may not actually be
But product of insanity?
Or do I keep on heading east
Through the paths of ravenous beasts
Who's gaping mouths and sharpened jaws
Lie waiting for my slightest pause?
Or do I make my journey west
In my hopes of finding rest
I'm hopelessly lost, I must confess
The truth is hardest to digest
Still I keep my steady tread
Though my feet may feel like led
There should be rest just up ahead
Some solace in a nice warm bed
Reality is fading fast
And my mind is fleeing south
Thinking I found the fount at last
I shovel sand into my mouth
When the travelers heading north
See my bloated, sand filled corpse
They will stop, and they will start
To mourn for my deserted heart
- Thief of Dreams -
The little girl, was falling asleep by the window,
In her dark bedroom with red curtains hanging…
And that beautiful child, a daughter of a widow,
Was awakened by the sound of a loud banging.
Tapping, rapping: like bones upon a tomb wall!
Something dark and black was outside the pane.
It was late autumn, and as the dead leaves fall…
The dead were stirring from their dreary domain.
Some shrouded face, features hidden in tatters…
Was staring at the little girl, with blood red eyes.
Misty breath, and large wings of black feathers,
Such were things the demon could not disguise!
“Open the window little girl, I am the sandman!”
Thus spoke a raspy voice from outside the glass.
“If you are he, then why do you bring no sand?”
Replied the little girl, who was no foolish a lass.
Suddenly, a skeletal arm broke through, loudly,
Spilling sand all over the bedroom’s soft floor…
The little girl screamed at a sight beyond ghastly.
After that night, she would scream never more!
Claws reached out to her, cold as an icy doom,
And she was dead before they found their mark.
Misty breath filled the air, darkening the gloom…
As the sandman began his most gruesome work!
When the child’s mother came to see what was…
Transpiring in the room where her daughter slept,
She found neither her child nor the noise’s cause.
But in that dark room, something horrible crept!
Sand covered the floor amidst sharp glass shards.
Blood was amongst the sand, blood most fresh…
Then a shadow fell, a beast speaking not words.
For on this night, the dead hungered for hot flesh!
What the mother beheld, drove her into insanity…
In the final moments before her breath was taken.
She could not fight her slayer, however forcibly…
For at that demon’s touch, all defiance is shaken.
Alas the widow and her daughter: now departed!
For the sandman came to steal all their dreams…
Bringing them sleep that is endless and uncharted.
For such is death amidst truly terrified screams…
Neither blood nor corpses remained come dawn,
But three shadows now haunted the night’s dark.
And unto slumbering souls, they are still drawn…
On certain autumn nights: both dreary, and stark!
Three shadows stalk and search for easiest prey,
To add more shadows to the army of the twilight.
So into dark rooms, be mindful should you stray!
There are night terrors that lurk beyond our sight.
The little girl, was falling asleep by the window,
In her dark bedroom with red curtains hanging…
And that beautiful child, a daughter of a widow,
Was awakened by the sound of a loud banging.
Tapping, rapping: like bones upon a tomb wall!
Something dark and black was outside the pane.
It was late autumn, and as the dead leaves fall…
The dead were stirring from their dreary domain.
Some shrouded face, features hidden in tatters…
Was staring at the little girl, with blood red eyes.
Misty breath, and large wings of black feathers,
Such were things the demon could not disguise!
“Open the window little girl, I am the sandman!”
Thus spoke a raspy voice from outside the glass.
“If you are he, then why do you bring no sand?”
Replied the little girl, who was no foolish a lass.
Suddenly, a skeletal arm broke through, loudly,
Spilling sand all over the bedroom’s soft floor…
The little girl screamed at a sight beyond ghastly.
After that night, she would scream never more!
Claws reached out to her, cold as an icy doom,
And she was dead before they found their mark.
Misty breath filled the air, darkening the gloom…
As the sandman began his most gruesome work!
When the child’s mother came to see what was…
Transpiring in the room where her daughter slept,
She found neither her child nor the noise’s cause.
But in that dark room, something horrible crept!
Sand covered the floor amidst sharp glass shards.
Blood was amongst the sand, blood most fresh…
Then a shadow fell, a beast speaking not words.
For on this night, the dead hungered for hot flesh!
What the mother beheld, drove her into insanity…
In the final moments before her breath was taken.
She could not fight her slayer, however forcibly…
For at that demon’s touch, all defiance is shaken.
Alas the widow and her daughter: now departed!
For the sandman came to steal all their dreams…
Bringing them sleep that is endless and uncharted.
For such is death amidst truly terrified screams…
Neither blood nor corpses remained come dawn,
But three shadows now haunted the night’s dark.
And unto slumbering souls, they are still drawn…
On certain autumn nights: both dreary, and stark!
Three shadows stalk and search for easiest prey,
To add more shadows to the army of the twilight.
So into dark rooms, be mindful should you stray!
There are night terrors that lurk beyond our sight.
Meat Me At Midnight
Feast For Greats
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/178969.jpg
Sweet smell of soil.
Flesh of decaying flesh
on the boil.
Fancy staying for dinner
we got a special menu
of a dead man inners.
Green gravy and scruptious,
amma tell Uncle Harry to add
some cum,
to our now roasted corpse.
Perfection.
Delectable reservation.
We munch on,
into the night in
celebration.
May it be goey,
maggots as hor dourves.
Just try not to eat all,
leave some for the others.
We gonna have some fun
care to join in the festivities?
I would like some bleeding meat,
riddle with terror.
A mouth gaping open,
eyes widen by the horror.
Invite only my love,
I do not fancy intruders.
Lest they be crispy and fried,
So come on down, sweetheart,
meat me at Midnight.
^,..,^
Feast For Greats
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/178969.jpg
Sweet smell of soil.
Flesh of decaying flesh
on the boil.
Fancy staying for dinner
we got a special menu
of a dead man inners.
Green gravy and scruptious,
amma tell Uncle Harry to add
some cum,
to our now roasted corpse.
Perfection.
Delectable reservation.
We munch on,
into the night in
celebration.
May it be goey,
maggots as hor dourves.
Just try not to eat all,
leave some for the others.
We gonna have some fun
care to join in the festivities?
I would like some bleeding meat,
riddle with terror.
A mouth gaping open,
eyes widen by the horror.
Invite only my love,
I do not fancy intruders.
Lest they be crispy and fried,
So come on down, sweetheart,
meat me at Midnight.
^,..,^
The tension in the room,
so tangible,
you're able to hold it in your hands.
That prickly feeling,
at the base of your spine,
that you can't stand.
The hairs on your neck,
stand at the cold rush.
You want to scream,
but you hold it in as much.
No noise,
not a sound,
just the ticking of the clock.
You know some one's there,
that you can't see it,
plotting to attack.
Just watching you,
observing you,
like a predator,
loving the way you cringe,
at the dropping of the
room's tempreture.
The muteness of the air,
the hearing of,
the beating of, your own pulse.
The pale staleness
in mouth,
running out,
of your skin, on impulse.
The quiet solitude,
taking it's toll.
Your head is breaking,
aching,
as the demon behind you
drools to reap your soul.
Just kidding,
maybe he's not behind you,
maybe he's beside you,
infront of you,
uptop,
down low.
You may never know.
Scared yet?
No?
Well, just turn of the light,
and listen to the silence.
Down In The Dumps
i found a black baby in a dumpster when I was
looking for cans to redeem for a cup of coffee
and a croissant
you could say I was down in the dumps
the economy wasn't doing dandy
and my employer let me go
he held a hand out for the snow race
but gave my sexy tan ass the boot
anyways back to the black baby
i found in the trash
when i was looking for a come up
i received only comeuppance
the black darling princess was barely breathing
wrapped in a t.shirt and newspapers naked as a raisin
did i find a treasure or did i find a bomb
that will one day become human, adult, and bitter
taking out her frustration on the populace
i had to make a choice
deliver her or bounce
what would Robert Frost do?
i brought her to a home and they called the proper propers
it went on the news but I remained a shadow bruise
you don't see me, you see only footprints
it turned out that chocolate was sleeping with vanilla
and in that conservative Southern town
chocolate stays chocolate and vanilla stays clean
this baby was a product of a Zulu and his snowflake Queen
i was still hungry
so I still dreamed
of one day
eating
again
(happy Halloween y'all)!!
i found a black baby in a dumpster when I was
looking for cans to redeem for a cup of coffee
and a croissant
you could say I was down in the dumps
the economy wasn't doing dandy
and my employer let me go
he held a hand out for the snow race
but gave my sexy tan ass the boot
anyways back to the black baby
i found in the trash
when i was looking for a come up
i received only comeuppance
the black darling princess was barely breathing
wrapped in a t.shirt and newspapers naked as a raisin
did i find a treasure or did i find a bomb
that will one day become human, adult, and bitter
taking out her frustration on the populace
i had to make a choice
deliver her or bounce
what would Robert Frost do?
i brought her to a home and they called the proper propers
it went on the news but I remained a shadow bruise
you don't see me, you see only footprints
it turned out that chocolate was sleeping with vanilla
and in that conservative Southern town
chocolate stays chocolate and vanilla stays clean
this baby was a product of a Zulu and his snowflake Queen
i was still hungry
so I still dreamed
of one day
eating
again
(happy Halloween y'all)!!
Dear whom ever it may concern,
What do you think a monster is? Most people would say vampires,witches, and werewolves are monsters. Most people wouldn't call themselves monsters, but I am pretty sure all of us have at least a little monster in us; Even though most of us wouldn't admit it. Some people have no idea that they are looked upon as monsters. The stories of monsters such as Jekyll and Hyde are really just metaphors of the beast within. What makes a monster and what makes a man? So are we really just more scared about becoming monsters ourselves? It really is such a fine line between a sane and insane man.So what's keeping you from becoming insane or mental?
In fact most people who are insane or mental don't even know that they are. What about those dreams you have in the middle of night that you could never remember, maybe your killing hundreds people in your sleep and you just don't remember. When you wake up with extra money in your pocket. What about when you hate someone and they turn up dead the next day because of a murder. What about all those strange nightmares you have for no reason,like being chased by someone or watching someone die; perhaps this means nothing but just think about it, all those people you see that are insane or mental have no idea that they are and they think they are just like everybody else.
That is why they refuse treatment and as they keep refusing to get help from doctors they get worse and worse; until the day they snap. It's only human nature to deny that you aren't sick. They start to kill people, and lose their mind as the days go on.The problems that you have and you think are small, could be much worse than you think. Like when you get angry and you start hitting a wall with your fists or your so lonely that you have forgotten how to talk to people. Not only that but there is a disease that makes you have multiple personalities, so it's like your not even you anymore. Motives are the reason why crimes happen, we justify ourselves. We make ourselves believe are crimes are for good reason, but in truth these are all the countless opinions made by idiots. As they themselves are blinded in a way, to be trapped in a checkmate, being in the embodiment of naiveness itself.
Maybe you are insane and you just don't know it. I guess the point I am trying to say is, when you see a group of murders going around in your area without reason always ask yourself are you really who you think you are, and are you a monster? Always ask yourself that, for you never know if you are insane or not. Maybe your really a murderer. I don't even trust myself sometimes.
Maybe me typing this is all but a dream. Maybe you all should have ran from me. Maybe your not even real. Perhaps the reality you think you have is not even real. I think it's time for you to wake up and stop living a dream. Sincerely, Agony
What do you think a monster is? Most people would say vampires,witches, and werewolves are monsters. Most people wouldn't call themselves monsters, but I am pretty sure all of us have at least a little monster in us; Even though most of us wouldn't admit it. Some people have no idea that they are looked upon as monsters. The stories of monsters such as Jekyll and Hyde are really just metaphors of the beast within. What makes a monster and what makes a man? So are we really just more scared about becoming monsters ourselves? It really is such a fine line between a sane and insane man.So what's keeping you from becoming insane or mental?
In fact most people who are insane or mental don't even know that they are. What about those dreams you have in the middle of night that you could never remember, maybe your killing hundreds people in your sleep and you just don't remember. When you wake up with extra money in your pocket. What about when you hate someone and they turn up dead the next day because of a murder. What about all those strange nightmares you have for no reason,like being chased by someone or watching someone die; perhaps this means nothing but just think about it, all those people you see that are insane or mental have no idea that they are and they think they are just like everybody else.
That is why they refuse treatment and as they keep refusing to get help from doctors they get worse and worse; until the day they snap. It's only human nature to deny that you aren't sick. They start to kill people, and lose their mind as the days go on.The problems that you have and you think are small, could be much worse than you think. Like when you get angry and you start hitting a wall with your fists or your so lonely that you have forgotten how to talk to people. Not only that but there is a disease that makes you have multiple personalities, so it's like your not even you anymore. Motives are the reason why crimes happen, we justify ourselves. We make ourselves believe are crimes are for good reason, but in truth these are all the countless opinions made by idiots. As they themselves are blinded in a way, to be trapped in a checkmate, being in the embodiment of naiveness itself.
Maybe you are insane and you just don't know it. I guess the point I am trying to say is, when you see a group of murders going around in your area without reason always ask yourself are you really who you think you are, and are you a monster? Always ask yourself that, for you never know if you are insane or not. Maybe your really a murderer. I don't even trust myself sometimes.
Maybe me typing this is all but a dream. Maybe you all should have ran from me. Maybe your not even real. Perhaps the reality you think you have is not even real. I think it's time for you to wake up and stop living a dream. Sincerely, Agony
- Witch of the Woods -
Her garments long and as black as night,
Move silently, in the absence of the light.
Silently, she winds her hungering way…
To find living flesh, upon which to prey!
In woods where only the foolish do go,
She waits unseen where shadows grow.
Even children are not safe, in her claws,
Nor the rat, which upon corpses gnaws!
Seeking to steal souls to keep her youth,
To stave off the ugliness of her untruth…
Her fingers knock upon old hollow trees.
To match the shakings of: scared knees!
In woods where madmen had their hour,
When the horned moon reveals a power.
That is when she comes, to drink blood,
And to steal the souls, to slake the flood;
Of time which ravages her hard visage…
As hard as a mountain rough and savage.
And so with a lust for what she once had,
Her claws drink deep, to drive men mad.
Twisting twigs and breaking bones apart,
The witch of the woods had not a heart…
And she tears one from a sleeping fellow.
Her cackling a song not gentle or mellow,
But shrill as the banshee who wails loud…
Beware the witch who wears the shroud!
Her garments long and as black as night,
Move silently, in the absence of the light.
Silently, she winds her hungering way…
To find living flesh, upon which to prey!
In woods where only the foolish do go,
She waits unseen where shadows grow.
Even children are not safe, in her claws,
Nor the rat, which upon corpses gnaws!
Seeking to steal souls to keep her youth,
To stave off the ugliness of her untruth…
Her fingers knock upon old hollow trees.
To match the shakings of: scared knees!
In woods where madmen had their hour,
When the horned moon reveals a power.
That is when she comes, to drink blood,
And to steal the souls, to slake the flood;
Of time which ravages her hard visage…
As hard as a mountain rough and savage.
And so with a lust for what she once had,
Her claws drink deep, to drive men mad.
Twisting twigs and breaking bones apart,
The witch of the woods had not a heart…
And she tears one from a sleeping fellow.
Her cackling a song not gentle or mellow,
But shrill as the banshee who wails loud…
Beware the witch who wears the shroud!
- Ancient Aliens -
An adventure into fear!
Part One – The Explorer’s Fate
Within the darkness black as is obsidian,
Cast off, by the ones who came down…
Forgotten by man, and forever forsaken.
Therein, came but a single solitary sound:
A scream, shrill and piercing as a shriek!
For an errant explorer had met his god…
Only to discover, all too late, how weak,
How frail is man before the Divine’s rod.
No mortal hands moved that old stone…
Which was worked to form an evil place.
But things not of all human flesh or bone,
For they were born in far distant space…
Brought to work for masters more awful.
Gods to some, but ones far from lawful!
Titans some called them, but such names,
Are fleeting, where burn immortal flames.
Part Two – Dweller in Darkness
Worship is sometimes born from horror,
From fear of that which is truly unknown.
So it was for that ancient, dead explorer,
Whose piety: into pure terror had grown!
The sealed door he had opened, curious.
One marked with symbols that did glow,
With energy that crackled so uproarious!
From unseen forces that thusly bestow…
Either, blessing or curse unto humankind.
And what of that which brought his end?
It waits there still, without tether to bind,
Its’ form, which in darkness must fend…
For it is the last of its’ kind, cast so low.
Its’ inhuman cries, true madness to sow!
The female of its’ species, it was mighty,
A goddess far different, from Aphrodite!
Part Three – The Bold Priestess
The ones who fashioned its’ cursed hide,
They watch in secret, waiting for an hour.
Eyes intent, where such beings do abide!
For they are aliens ancient in their power.
A priestess of an ancient faith long past…
Had come to the place, beyond the dark.
Her guide was the explorer who at last…
Fell to the thing to which none may hark.
She saw the creature and knew real fear,
But was wise enough to flee its’ grounds.
Unto the hidden place she so drew near,
Where the power of alien gods abounds.
She would put a stop to their cruel plans,
And banish them beyond all mortal lands.
But she was not prepared to so witness…
That which would leave her mad, witless!
Part Four – Domain of the Titans
She beheld them: titans on their thrones…
Seemingly dead in a stasis unfathomable!
Their minds were wiser than old crones…
Whilst their forms were far more terrible!
Melded to their machines, so grotesque,
That it was hard to tell, their true shapes.
The priestess called to them, to thus ask,
If they would leave this world to escape:
The deluge that was coming, to punish…
For gods warred and continents did fall!
Atlantis itself, would very soon, perish…
And so it was time to heed an older call.
One of the beings was moved to action,
By the plights of that condemned nation.
The engines of their craft, began to hum,
But one final activity needed to be done.
Part Five – The Watchers Depart
She felt its’ hand on her face grasping…
As tendrils of thought, entered her mind.
Answers to questions none were asking,
To her subconscious, thereupon to bind!
A fluid poured into her mouth unbidden,
Which at the time seemed only as water.
But there was more to it secretly hidden,
From even she, that so sacred daughter!
And long after the titans departed Earth,
She lingered in their halls, in the black…
For therein she changed, and gave birth:
Only to perish, torn from front to back.
Her child, the hand that slew her cruelly,
Waited for the next explorer’s fatal folly.
He and the female creature did breed…
When humans came, the aliens did feed.
An adventure into fear!
Part One – The Explorer’s Fate
Within the darkness black as is obsidian,
Cast off, by the ones who came down…
Forgotten by man, and forever forsaken.
Therein, came but a single solitary sound:
A scream, shrill and piercing as a shriek!
For an errant explorer had met his god…
Only to discover, all too late, how weak,
How frail is man before the Divine’s rod.
No mortal hands moved that old stone…
Which was worked to form an evil place.
But things not of all human flesh or bone,
For they were born in far distant space…
Brought to work for masters more awful.
Gods to some, but ones far from lawful!
Titans some called them, but such names,
Are fleeting, where burn immortal flames.
Part Two – Dweller in Darkness
Worship is sometimes born from horror,
From fear of that which is truly unknown.
So it was for that ancient, dead explorer,
Whose piety: into pure terror had grown!
The sealed door he had opened, curious.
One marked with symbols that did glow,
With energy that crackled so uproarious!
From unseen forces that thusly bestow…
Either, blessing or curse unto humankind.
And what of that which brought his end?
It waits there still, without tether to bind,
Its’ form, which in darkness must fend…
For it is the last of its’ kind, cast so low.
Its’ inhuman cries, true madness to sow!
The female of its’ species, it was mighty,
A goddess far different, from Aphrodite!
Part Three – The Bold Priestess
The ones who fashioned its’ cursed hide,
They watch in secret, waiting for an hour.
Eyes intent, where such beings do abide!
For they are aliens ancient in their power.
A priestess of an ancient faith long past…
Had come to the place, beyond the dark.
Her guide was the explorer who at last…
Fell to the thing to which none may hark.
She saw the creature and knew real fear,
But was wise enough to flee its’ grounds.
Unto the hidden place she so drew near,
Where the power of alien gods abounds.
She would put a stop to their cruel plans,
And banish them beyond all mortal lands.
But she was not prepared to so witness…
That which would leave her mad, witless!
Part Four – Domain of the Titans
She beheld them: titans on their thrones…
Seemingly dead in a stasis unfathomable!
Their minds were wiser than old crones…
Whilst their forms were far more terrible!
Melded to their machines, so grotesque,
That it was hard to tell, their true shapes.
The priestess called to them, to thus ask,
If they would leave this world to escape:
The deluge that was coming, to punish…
For gods warred and continents did fall!
Atlantis itself, would very soon, perish…
And so it was time to heed an older call.
One of the beings was moved to action,
By the plights of that condemned nation.
The engines of their craft, began to hum,
But one final activity needed to be done.
Part Five – The Watchers Depart
She felt its’ hand on her face grasping…
As tendrils of thought, entered her mind.
Answers to questions none were asking,
To her subconscious, thereupon to bind!
A fluid poured into her mouth unbidden,
Which at the time seemed only as water.
But there was more to it secretly hidden,
From even she, that so sacred daughter!
And long after the titans departed Earth,
She lingered in their halls, in the black…
For therein she changed, and gave birth:
Only to perish, torn from front to back.
Her child, the hand that slew her cruelly,
Waited for the next explorer’s fatal folly.
He and the female creature did breed…
When humans came, the aliens did feed.
- Carnival of Death -
A Tale of the Macabre
The carnival came, one day, to a small New England town…
Amidst the blaring of bands and the smiles of many a clown!
Children flocked to see the animals in their countless cages,
Never mindful of their ferocity and propensity for mad rages.
All seemed so bright, and filled with innocent childhood joys,
Yet that is sometimes the mask that blackest evil oft employs.
I do not know why I went to the carnival, but even so I did…
And I passed the tents and pavilions, where all the actors hid,
For circus people are actors and at the carnival they perform.
Something strange I sensed there, like a calm before a storm!
As I approached the pavilion of the fortune teller who waited,
For passers-by to come: and have their curiosity by her sated.
She was young and beautiful, but her skin was cold and pale,
And her eyes seemed vacant, when she so cast aside her veil.
That black transparent fabric, which to the ground she cast…
The better to see me: and so tell of the future, or distant past.
Could she see into other lives, and know before one’s birth…
Whether they were good or evil, and thus, their souls’ worth?
Black pantaloons and blouse she wore, in gypsy fashion well,
Generous were her hips, and oh how her bosom could swell!
So very beautiful was she, her black eyes gleaming like onyx,
In the candle-lit pavilion: where she enacted her magic tricks.
Her hair was raven darkness, curly and cascading ever down,
All the way to her feet, thus descended that soft ebon crown!
I waited for her to speak to me, but not one thing did she say,
Her eyes bore deep into my soul, and there her spirit did play.
What found she there I could not imagine, but she did smile…
Beckoning me, to sit next to her, and so that I did for a while.
A single cushioned couch we shared, before a wooden table,
Upon which sat a crystal ball like something out of old fable…
And into its’ depths the gypsy gazed, appearing mesmerized.
After some time, she turned to look upon me most surprised!
She seized my face with both her hands, her fingernails claws,
Kissing me savagely, in a manner become feral without pause.
Her teeth were now fangs, and blood she drew from my lip…
Yet I was captivated and I let my hands caress her curvy hip.
What she did see that made her go mad, I never would learn.
She forced her inhuman passions on me; in them I did burn…
I was a grown woman, and I should have been able to resist.
But, some dark part of me wanted her, basking in dark bliss!
How strange, that no once chanced by her colorful pavilion…
Only we were there, as I was trapped in the arms of a villain,
Ensnared by her will, which pinioned me before her pleasure.
I was at the mercy of a vampire; my blood was her treasure,
And how her sharp fangs drank deep of my sanguine nectar!
She partook of me in scarlet joy as well as Sapphic splendor.
Just when I imagined my pain was approaching high ecstasy,
Her face became a skull and I screamed at this sight so ugly!
No mere vampire was she, but death incarnate, here to hunt.
I was at her mercy now, and there was no place I could run!
My eyes shut instinctively, and I felt her cold breath panting…
Like frost upon my skin, winter’s touch, chill and demanding.
Goosebumps formed, on my neck, and I knew I would die…
In the arms of the grimmest lover, there my corpse would lie.
Oh cruel mistress Death, I only wished the carnival to savor!
To recapture childhood joys, with a heart that cannot waver.
But I realized I could never go back, for childhood did pass,
And I should never have come here, unto the darksome lass.
But here I was, and here I would end, my eyes shutting tight,
Soon to close forever as I was born away by winged Night!
I opened my eyes bravely, expecting to see the skeletal face,
But all I saw was a gypsy girl, a fortuneteller of skillful grace.
She was blushing after our tryst, and told me I should be off,
And then she turned into a raven and flew to some other loft.
In the crystal ball that remained, the image of skull did linger,
So I smashed that object, before the sight got any stranger…
I walked away from the pavilion, seeking to put it far behind.
When suddenly I saw the raven and heard within my mind…
The laughter of a woman, the personification of doom entire,
Who stalked me across the carnival with eyes like black fire!
Sometimes I saw the pale gypsy lady waiting in the shadows,
So I put the carnival behind me, fleeing across the meadows.
Pursued, by the raven that was no bird, but something awful,
I made my way from those outskirts back to town so lawful…
So serene in its’ simplicity of the rush and whirl of life around!
Childhood was over and I now needed new joys to be found.
The past was dead, and I knew that; I had learned my lesson,
Even as I made my way home, which to my heart did beckon.
When you tryst with mistress Death, you come to appreciate,
Living life ever fuller in the here and now, before it is too late!
Sometimes, I spy a raven, and I wonder if it she is watching…
But of course Death always is, for her eyes are on everything.
Worry not if she will find you, for in due time she always will,
And in the end, one final tryst will take place, before all is still.
A Tale of the Macabre
The carnival came, one day, to a small New England town…
Amidst the blaring of bands and the smiles of many a clown!
Children flocked to see the animals in their countless cages,
Never mindful of their ferocity and propensity for mad rages.
All seemed so bright, and filled with innocent childhood joys,
Yet that is sometimes the mask that blackest evil oft employs.
I do not know why I went to the carnival, but even so I did…
And I passed the tents and pavilions, where all the actors hid,
For circus people are actors and at the carnival they perform.
Something strange I sensed there, like a calm before a storm!
As I approached the pavilion of the fortune teller who waited,
For passers-by to come: and have their curiosity by her sated.
She was young and beautiful, but her skin was cold and pale,
And her eyes seemed vacant, when she so cast aside her veil.
That black transparent fabric, which to the ground she cast…
The better to see me: and so tell of the future, or distant past.
Could she see into other lives, and know before one’s birth…
Whether they were good or evil, and thus, their souls’ worth?
Black pantaloons and blouse she wore, in gypsy fashion well,
Generous were her hips, and oh how her bosom could swell!
So very beautiful was she, her black eyes gleaming like onyx,
In the candle-lit pavilion: where she enacted her magic tricks.
Her hair was raven darkness, curly and cascading ever down,
All the way to her feet, thus descended that soft ebon crown!
I waited for her to speak to me, but not one thing did she say,
Her eyes bore deep into my soul, and there her spirit did play.
What found she there I could not imagine, but she did smile…
Beckoning me, to sit next to her, and so that I did for a while.
A single cushioned couch we shared, before a wooden table,
Upon which sat a crystal ball like something out of old fable…
And into its’ depths the gypsy gazed, appearing mesmerized.
After some time, she turned to look upon me most surprised!
She seized my face with both her hands, her fingernails claws,
Kissing me savagely, in a manner become feral without pause.
Her teeth were now fangs, and blood she drew from my lip…
Yet I was captivated and I let my hands caress her curvy hip.
What she did see that made her go mad, I never would learn.
She forced her inhuman passions on me; in them I did burn…
I was a grown woman, and I should have been able to resist.
But, some dark part of me wanted her, basking in dark bliss!
How strange, that no once chanced by her colorful pavilion…
Only we were there, as I was trapped in the arms of a villain,
Ensnared by her will, which pinioned me before her pleasure.
I was at the mercy of a vampire; my blood was her treasure,
And how her sharp fangs drank deep of my sanguine nectar!
She partook of me in scarlet joy as well as Sapphic splendor.
Just when I imagined my pain was approaching high ecstasy,
Her face became a skull and I screamed at this sight so ugly!
No mere vampire was she, but death incarnate, here to hunt.
I was at her mercy now, and there was no place I could run!
My eyes shut instinctively, and I felt her cold breath panting…
Like frost upon my skin, winter’s touch, chill and demanding.
Goosebumps formed, on my neck, and I knew I would die…
In the arms of the grimmest lover, there my corpse would lie.
Oh cruel mistress Death, I only wished the carnival to savor!
To recapture childhood joys, with a heart that cannot waver.
But I realized I could never go back, for childhood did pass,
And I should never have come here, unto the darksome lass.
But here I was, and here I would end, my eyes shutting tight,
Soon to close forever as I was born away by winged Night!
I opened my eyes bravely, expecting to see the skeletal face,
But all I saw was a gypsy girl, a fortuneteller of skillful grace.
She was blushing after our tryst, and told me I should be off,
And then she turned into a raven and flew to some other loft.
In the crystal ball that remained, the image of skull did linger,
So I smashed that object, before the sight got any stranger…
I walked away from the pavilion, seeking to put it far behind.
When suddenly I saw the raven and heard within my mind…
The laughter of a woman, the personification of doom entire,
Who stalked me across the carnival with eyes like black fire!
Sometimes I saw the pale gypsy lady waiting in the shadows,
So I put the carnival behind me, fleeing across the meadows.
Pursued, by the raven that was no bird, but something awful,
I made my way from those outskirts back to town so lawful…
So serene in its’ simplicity of the rush and whirl of life around!
Childhood was over and I now needed new joys to be found.
The past was dead, and I knew that; I had learned my lesson,
Even as I made my way home, which to my heart did beckon.
When you tryst with mistress Death, you come to appreciate,
Living life ever fuller in the here and now, before it is too late!
Sometimes, I spy a raven, and I wonder if it she is watching…
But of course Death always is, for her eyes are on everything.
Worry not if she will find you, for in due time she always will,
And in the end, one final tryst will take place, before all is still.
"Halloween Knight"
This Halloween I fear the coming of your light
By day I am filled with a darkness black as night
His shadow clouds my eyes to see your face no more
For I'll never be your Knight in shining armor
When all the Saints arrived my demons lurked within
With their number marching, did Valentine sneak in?
Is he a myth like the archer angel Cupid?
Tempting Amour, how could I have been so stupid?
For this Queen, the battle was never mine to fight
Like the Quasi fool, I'm dubbed All Hallows Eve Knight
Seeking sweetness behind each good door where I knock
Only to be handed grief as hard as a rock
You celebrate the anniversary of life
While a wish is made to bring me a deadly knife
Carving the pumpkin and removing all its seeds
Unlike Jack's hollowed head, my empty heart still bleeds
(JJ Poetryman)
This Halloween I fear the coming of your light
By day I am filled with a darkness black as night
His shadow clouds my eyes to see your face no more
For I'll never be your Knight in shining armor
When all the Saints arrived my demons lurked within
With their number marching, did Valentine sneak in?
Is he a myth like the archer angel Cupid?
Tempting Amour, how could I have been so stupid?
For this Queen, the battle was never mine to fight
Like the Quasi fool, I'm dubbed All Hallows Eve Knight
Seeking sweetness behind each good door where I knock
Only to be handed grief as hard as a rock
You celebrate the anniversary of life
While a wish is made to bring me a deadly knife
Carving the pumpkin and removing all its seeds
Unlike Jack's hollowed head, my empty heart still bleeds
(JJ Poetryman)
