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Francie Lynch Oct 2023
Zombies are waddling toward their door.
Witches are cackling, black cats are scratching,
And the ghouls want brains and more.

But Brig and Ophelia aren’t scared yet,
They’re waiting inside,
Gobbling strange snacks while they hide.

It’s bugs they like to chew and gnaw;
And they love to eat their spiders raw,
Not fried with onions, like Granda;
Or served with broccoli, like Nana.

Not boiled with worms and creepy crawlers.
Ciaran eats those,
Not these crazed daughters.

Ophelia and Brig
Eat them raw,
Alive, not dead,
With wiggly legs and sharp jaws;
And wrapped up with mosquito heads
In white sticky spider webs.

They eat Black Widows soaked in goblin blood
And wicked witch’s poo;
Made from bats and rats and unschooled fools,
That witches eat to soften  stools.

They eat fat spiders
Floating in soup,
That slide and wiggle
Down their throat.

They eat them with their mouldy cheese,
Melted over wasps and bees.

The girls fork down spider stew,
They love the taste “Tres beaucoup.”

The gravy’s made from a mummy’s spit,
And sweat that drips from a ghoul’s armpit.

They like their spiders spread on bread,
A feast to feed the risen dead.

When their snack is finally done,
They’ll pick their teeth and scrape their tongues
For Daddy Long Legs they didn’t eat.
The long legs caught between their teeth.

They'll use those legs to weave a wreath,
To trick flies and bugs and lonely spiders
Into their hungry House of Horrors.
Wrote this for my twin grandaughters, Brig and Ophelia. Ciaran is my grandson. The girls hate spiders. Probably moreso now.
Larry dillon Jan 2023
The gods let this baby be born
As a thing they could reclaim
One day with cruel delay
Boils from black plague desecrated her skin
Right before her second birthday
A lesson on how a life can be stolen
Shortly after it begins
Or how we're without hope to the whims
Of the bored gods before us

To save the last of his kin
The father implored the science
Of the village sage and physicians
He was turned down at every door
Their medicine was not meant
To save the poor nor destitute
Resolute in his faith
there were good gods who gave grace
Unto children without sin
He next beseeched healing power
from varied institutions of the miracle men
Preyed over by priests, rabbis, and sheikhs
He sacrificed and spent
every cent he had saved
And their churches took his tithes
But did not take her pain away

Grief striken, defeated, with no recourse
Liquid sedated in a pub,he feels remorse
" our child will join you soon,
my dearest departed wife"
a pubhand overhears him saying,
"you can still save your daughter's life!"

"listen as I entail
The hidden trail you must trek
before the antelucan hour strikes
Her magiks are only ripe
in the dead of the night
Nestled within that loury forest
Her cabin obscured from mortal sight
Resides an occultist of such cunning:
A bog witch named Blight"

The pubhand helped him to more mead for free
Unprompted he then proceeds to lead
The father through that place he now seeks
-claiming his shift had come to an end
As they drew closer to the cabin
Something happened most curious and queer
The pubhand turned into a black cat,
Scurried off into the brush- to dissappear

Influenced by fermented spirits in his blood
He pays heed to their whisper
-Her cabin door is ajar
And they beckon he enter

Now in Blight's place of power with his offspring.

"oh hapless father when you sing,
How the gods do smile
You worshipped the very ones
who wish to **** your only child
they're vile and malcontent
All they know are delinquent tendencies
They'll torture her spirit for sport,
When she dies you see
But by my incantation
That needn't come be"

"drain the blood of a bat
with deviant intent
Recant the name of your gods;
You now resent  
The blood will brew all the while
-in my elixir
When the little girl drinks:
it will fix her
It will turn her pale white
You will fear she has perished
She will stalk this earth
Forever parched with ravenous thirst
And a stark aversion to sunlight
A dead child!
...or a creature of the night?"

The father did as directed
He did not second guess
Unaware of the sorceresses subtle gesticulations
-Were creating a hex
He's blind to machinations set in motion long ago
The wiccan pours her will into a binding circle
As the child drinks the concoction slow

His daughter's vitality returns
The plague is receding
Fangs sprang forth
as she bites into her father's neck
Blood trickles down in specks
The girl keeps feeding
And feeding

all gods once assembled to fight Blight
The powerful mad goddess would direct
her sadistic debauchery at their human subjects
-human praise appealed to the god's vanity-
Her godhood sealed by the Parthenon
in a prison comprised of flesh
Divinity bound;
betrayed by other gods
There were too many for her to resist
A former god trapped in mortal form
Blight's punishment was to simply exist

For 300 years Blight had waited for a night like this
An ancient curse she could wield
As revenge for imprisonment
Finally obtaining the last two ingredients:
A child that was pure
And a father's consent

A direct strike of lightning sets Blight's cabin ablaze  
still in her binding circle, she's indifferent
And unphased
From threats of fearful deities who see
She's about to set her nocturnal creations free
Undeterred by their show of force
she releases her two vamps
with a flick of her wrist and no remorse

Iightning strikes within an inch of Blight
She leers at the heavens
Much defiance and mirth
In the distance a village screams
As her fiends burn it down to the dirt

The Parthenon replies:
Bellowing cumulonimbus clouds
decries her decision
Such chaos;
now her scheming REALLY has their attention
The.Ones.Who.Watch. Above

See all.

Throughout panoptic thrones they peer
pained fury for this village culling:
Blight jeers
Sanctimonius thunderstorm brings fervent rain
Their vain,pious tears-
The skies can not contain

The gods cry.

"Oh, how i wonder what will worship gods then,
When humanity dies?"

Luminous surges of lightning bolts strike
Tries to smite this emboldened bog witch
...Yet, in spite of their wish,
she somehow stays unhurt...

Blight smirks.
I story of a father's desperation abused and a scheming bog witch's revenge.
lloyd britton Jan 2023
In dreams of shadow and moonlight they dwell,
There was Palinode and Epistrophe whom would sing
Palinode, he was as Hades, as havoc, as hell,
His lyrics were sharp and bitter, a corrosive thing…
Epistrophe was Desdemona, Persephone, Belle.
Her lays would buzz like the honeybee’s wing.
And upon sharp daggers they occasionally fell.
Upon which time the heart full of grief would swell.

In shadows of dreams and glimmering shards bright.
They took to the skies in the dark of the night...
They flew through the murk as is their domain,
And came to an estate with Duchess and Duke.
They prowled by the windows and sang songs arcane,
And tempted the married couple with lyrics to *****.
And a great fear came over the humans and they swoon.
In ghastly fright together they fell to their knees,
And fell under the spell of that music, that morbid tune,
It was like cold death dancing towards them, they freeze.
And Palinode and Epistrophe entered therein,
And began to feast on their blood, this is their sin.

Palinode said unto Epistrophe, “Hark the cry of the rooster!”
And she to him replied, “I hear only your heartbeat in your chest.”
“Of what do you speak?” He said. “Is this some morale booster?”
“No!” Cried she, “this is only the truth I have laid to rest.”
The wind outside blew like the brewing of a hurricane.
With regards to the Duke and Duchess now dead,
They left their bodies where they fell, in disdain.
And so to their lair in the half light of dawn they speedily fled.

In dreams of shadow and moonlight they go,
Drinking the blood of the innocent and guilty alike,
The vampires Palinode and Epistrophe know,
That death to everything will always strike.

Her hand came up to his face when they awake in the dusk,
His lips to hers and drink in the mouth, so soft that kiss.
Then sweetly sniffing in his fragrance, his musk...
She thought for another life she would never wish.
If anyone would take him from her, she would lament,
But not for a single human life she had taken would she repent.
He had made her this killing machine a monster within.
And she knew she loved him for that and would leave it be.
And so, in dreams of shadow and moonlight she would grin.
And in shadows of dreams and moonlight they see,
That they are together lost in gruesome eternal demise,
Stalking and killing all night until the dawn brings the sunrise.

But Palinode did sometimes wonder when the feast was done,
What waited in their afterlife if they should meet the glare of the sun.
With blood-stained lips and gruesome corpses laid asunder,
He thought that his destiny was hell forever burning,
And so, he tried to weave a different song for her to fall under,
One that would show all his woe and all his yearning.
He sang out the tune and called upon the magical talent.
And into the melody he imbued feelings of remorse, so gallant.

Epistrophe heard him singing while draining her victim’s last drop.
She looked to him through the death and destruction they’d wrought.
But the magic affected her not, she was no puppet, no doll or prop,
She could not be controlled so easily with song or with thought.
“Why do you plague me with sorrow?” Epistrophe cry.
“I want for more.” Came Palinodes’ answer, strong and bold.
“You want more than I can give?” she weeps, “can you not try?”
He speaks. “I have tried and tried again but now I grow old.”
She responds. “You cannot abandon me when you made me what I am.”
And so that song of remorse died there and then in the blood-soaked scene.
“We,” says she, “are hunters and they are the prey, I don’t give a ****!
“to leave this life to me alone is hateful and mean!”
Palinode sighs and finds no release, turning away from her,
“Don’t turn away!” she calls, “look at what we are,”
And so looking about the tavern where they have killed all and none stir,
Palinode sighs again and leans on the bloodied bar.
Epistrophe draws near and goes to comfort her vampire lover,
But as she touches him, she does not feel him as she once knew,
Now he turns to leave and offers these words, “I must go and discover.”
In shock stands Epistrophe she thinks that this cannot be true.

And now in shadows of dreams and moonlight they are separated,
And in dreams of shadow and moonlight Epistrophe has little cares,
She kills heartless still but feels a sour feeling of being unappreciated.
And Palinode travels alone, travels the world going where he dares.
Walking amongst the living in moonlit taciturnity
Trapped in an unnatural life, trapped in eternity.
Amanda Shelton Aug 2022
In between the teeth of weeping
angles lurks death and permanent
night. Such tragedy is this life.

Wolves vent their howls,
as I awaken.

Ti's a night of dark desire,
my weeping soul rises from the
depths of the earth.

As the moon bow's in its
throne of star's, eternal
darkness surrounds me
I arouse and the light
bends for my shadow.

Cold breath of winter shrouds
my form, a lurking beast
with a lust for blood.

My black ***** hair cascades
over tragic shoulders,
as my lips part slightly
revealing my true nature.

To taste the flesh beneath me
as blood streams from my plumped
lips, is ghastly and ghoulish.

But no peace do I ponder,
forever I wander.

Now a night of misery and plight,
I grow weary of the night.

So I go down to the river where
it is warm and green, and I enjoy
the night until morning brings
ash and light.

Goodbye! The end!

Au revoir! La fin!

©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton
This is written as a personal viewpoint of an old vampire tired of living in eternal darkness. I've been thinking about writing this for awhile. I had another lucid dream about vampires and it inspired me to finally write it down.
Greyisntwell Jul 2021

Roses are on the grave
The dolls are spread over the bed

Centuries have come
Centuries will go

Statues of the old times
Remind me of your face

The ashes dance across my lips
Your burnt flesh is a reminder

Of the pain, you left behind
When you left me there
In the rain...
Madisen Kuhn Mar 2021
someday i’ll be too busy to notice the vampires
the sun wakes me up and i know who i am
maybe the chaos will always be there but
i’ll find a way to break it down into mulch and grow
pears and herbs and gardenias from what’s left of me
it takes a while to accept that the shadows matter
and i can’t pretend to know the watermelon lollipop
without the tongue that exists only to melt it away
to turn it into nothing until all that’s left is a paper stick
it might feel like freedom now but it can’t forever
i’ll pull down the curtains and never snooze an alarm again
the worst thing i can think of is writing the same poem
each day for the rest of my life and everyone knowing it
but me
Niel Nov 2020
I am a beast
                         A child of darkness
I exist in multiple realities
        It cannot be helped
Elena Mustafa Sep 2020
******* blood sugar
Yes its tasty
As the normal sugar
Cut my wrists
And gently
**** the
Is that better then candy
Renee' Sep 2020
As the sun starts to set and the night becomes darker,
There's a familiar chill in the air and the leaves start to change.
I start to feel my heart racing and pounding through my chest,
That certain urge comes along knowing you will be near soon.
A certain desire and taste no one could ever know,
Unless they felt that deep kiss and no other life you bring like I have.
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