#stoker - Hello Poetry

The hallways narrow stretch along Amany doors, heavy and locked A suitable prison, to which I belong With any passage but windows blocked And I am imprisoned within I´m not alone Let alone with my thoughts And the strangers away from my reach But the strangest who attends me Is the only one I can speak During day I may wander Through the halls of the wing From one locked door to another Until sunset begins Then I may granted visits Of my warden and host With conversations and matters Concerning me most For I can´t but think and ponder About this evil true intends That means naught but death to me My love and friends God help me, For I have been used My own hands have set free The devil to the world And the truth will die with me

0

Apr 14, 2022

Apr 14, 2022 at 6:13 PM UTC

sayazandvouc

The Guest

The hallways narrow stretch along Amany doors, heavy and locked A suitable prison, to which I belong With any passage but windows blocked And I am imprisoned within I´m not alone Let alone with my thoughts And the strangers away from my reach But the strangest who attends me Is the only one I can speak During day I may wander Through the halls of the wing From one locked door to another Until sunset begins Then I may granted visits Of my warden and host With conversations and matters Concerning me most For I can´t but think and ponder About this evil true intends That means naught but death to me My love and friends God help me, For I have been used My own hands have set free The devil to the world And the truth will die with me

27

Time strikes hard like the hammer of a jackknife Cutting through the fabric of your lifeline Entwined in loops, so many one forgets those stories that were once not tales to tell but the life you experienced. And another second passes by And you look all about And you take a deep breathe And the hammer knocks another nail like the infamous stake through the heart of the dead who are living life forever and forever ever mourning the mistake they once made to stop time in place, stop the hammering knocking down the rails, to stop the round and round to live life in one endless night A vampire I am not, but Bram Stoker was a genius, in his writings it was he who caught the stunning beauty that is the tragedy of time.

0

Aug 17, 2017

Aug 17, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC

eyal-lavi

Time

Time strikes hard like the hammer of a jackknife Cutting through the fabric of your lifeline Entwined in loops, so many one forgets those stories that were once not tales to tell but the life you experienced. And another second passes by And you look all about And you take a deep breathe And the hammer knocks another nail like the infamous stake through the heart of the dead who are living life forever and forever ever mourning the mistake they once made to stop time in place, stop the hammering knocking down the rails, to stop the round and round to live life in one endless night A vampire I am not, but Bram Stoker was a genius, in his writings it was he who caught the stunning beauty that is the tragedy of time.

8

The Eturi Part 1 - Genesis I shall tell you of the first Eturi. I shall tell you how the seas did not want them-- Coughing them up on the shore Like water from the lungs of a drowning man. They were unseemly things. Arms stretched sinewy from their sockets Fingers tipped with bulbs And dripping a sticky mucus Tearing flesh off prey caught in their hands On teeth with edges like sawed-off metal. Their stomachs-- A swollen gelatinous sack of a belly Mottled with spots and partially translucent Allowed for an uninhibited view onto the trophy of their latest meal As it slowly digests. The Eturi were humanoid only by their incipience To foul the word-- Human. The land was bare rock and mud then. The Eturi were kings Nothing lived that could challenge their predominance For nothing lived, There were yet no plants or other animals Nothing to eat. On all fours, they scrabbled the earth for food Stiff-arming on knuckles And the tippy toes of their feet Lip-sucking the dirt Pumping their bellies full of mud and sand Licking the rocks and chewing clay-- Always hungry Scouring from beach--to desert--to canyon--to cracked earth--to volcano Anything to eat. Until starving, their belly made its final demand-- They must feed. The first to fall to hunger was unexpected. A look From one Eturi upon another A look that may have been casual or even sincere Suddenly took on a thoughtful gaze Then a deliberate stare. Soon a second Eturi took up that gaze Then a third, No words passed between them Their eyes were like the baying of hounds Calling the others to them Swelling into a pack Drinking the scent of their gaze-- Silent Coiling Hunger so close to the surface The air was almost chewy. When the other Eturi turned And saw their eyes upon him The eyes of his brothers and sisters The look in their eyes, He could barely register protest Before they were on him-- Ripping flesh from muscle Muscle from bone Bones snapped to **** out the marrow. The Eturi was eaten Before he died. Survival did not go to the biggest and strongest For they had the most to eat. No, survival went to the scrawniest The smelliest The most deformed Those with unappealing prickles of hair For they were the most unsavory. And out of this interspecial gorging Bred a trait That would become their greatest and most lasting legacy-- Cunning. For what mattered resourcefulness Self-preservation Or strength of the will to live, If you could predict the hunger in others And twist them to your own? It was said that the Land was so moved Upon seeing the Eturi, That taking the earth in her hands She tore open her own breast And drew forth life In plants and grasses and fruit and trees and rich vegetation And to lure other animals-- That anything The Eturi may feed on anything Anything but themselves. But so the Eturi were So when the Land gave up its last blossom So would the Eturi always be.

0

May 14, 2015

May 14, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC

bryan-rogers

The Eturi - Part 1

The Eturi Part 1 - Genesis I shall tell you of the first Eturi. I shall tell you how the seas did not want them-- Coughing them up on the shore Like water from the lungs of a drowning man. They were unseemly things. Arms stretched sinewy from their sockets Fingers tipped with bulbs And dripping a sticky mucus Tearing flesh off prey caught in their hands On teeth with edges like sawed-off metal. Their stomachs-- A swollen gelatinous sack of a belly Mottled with spots and partially translucent Allowed for an uninhibited view onto the trophy of their latest meal As it slowly digests. The Eturi were humanoid only by their incipience To foul the word-- Human. The land was bare rock and mud then. The Eturi were kings Nothing lived that could challenge their predominance For nothing lived, There were yet no plants or other animals Nothing to eat. On all fours, they scrabbled the earth for food Stiff-arming on knuckles And the tippy toes of their feet Lip-sucking the dirt Pumping their bellies full of mud and sand Licking the rocks and chewing clay-- Always hungry Scouring from beach--to desert--to canyon--to cracked earth--to volcano Anything to eat. Until starving, their belly made its final demand-- They must feed. The first to fall to hunger was unexpected. A look From one Eturi upon another A look that may have been casual or even sincere Suddenly took on a thoughtful gaze Then a deliberate stare. Soon a second Eturi took up that gaze Then a third, No words passed between them Their eyes were like the baying of hounds Calling the others to them Swelling into a pack Drinking the scent of their gaze-- Silent Coiling Hunger so close to the surface The air was almost chewy. When the other Eturi turned And saw their eyes upon him The eyes of his brothers and sisters The look in their eyes, He could barely register protest Before they were on him-- Ripping flesh from muscle Muscle from bone Bones snapped to **** out the marrow. The Eturi was eaten Before he died. Survival did not go to the biggest and strongest For they had the most to eat. No, survival went to the scrawniest The smelliest The most deformed Those with unappealing prickles of hair For they were the most unsavory. And out of this interspecial gorging Bred a trait That would become their greatest and most lasting legacy-- Cunning. For what mattered resourcefulness Self-preservation Or strength of the will to live, If you could predict the hunger in others And twist them to your own? It was said that the Land was so moved Upon seeing the Eturi, That taking the earth in her hands She tore open her own breast And drew forth life In plants and grasses and fruit and trees and rich vegetation And to lure other animals-- That anything The Eturi may feed on anything Anything but themselves. But so the Eturi were So when the Land gave up its last blossom So would the Eturi always be.

94

It's torture, The way that he stalks her, Mina, Mina, Like some childish chant, He calls her name, We chant too, Master, master, notice us, Love us, want us, worship us, Because we worship you, And I have seen seasons pass in an unblinking eye, How can I sleep when you are always awake? Entertaining guests in the parlour room, My pallor turns deathly when you speak her name, Your next engagement is the chill in my tomb, The fear I feel in her heartbeats makes my teeth hurt, They turn into fangs with the bitterness I spit, When you take her throat, I see red, But I cannot admit these things to my absent soul, By you I am vilified, Like Christ I'd rather be crucified, My wedding dress you nullified, Let light stream in and burn me alive, Burn me dead, After aeons since the first I thought this bond was unbreakable, 1, 2, 3, women you have guided into your hell, Still your thirst is unslakeable, - But what did I expect? Denn die Todten reiten schnell. (Translation: Because the dead travel fast.)

0

Feb 26, 2015

Feb 26, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC

wormsworms

Dracula's Bride

It's torture, The way that he stalks her, Mina, Mina, Like some childish chant, He calls her name, We chant too, Master, master, notice us, Love us, want us, worship us, Because we worship you, And I have seen seasons pass in an unblinking eye, How can I sleep when you are always awake? Entertaining guests in the parlour room, My pallor turns deathly when you speak her name, Your next engagement is the chill in my tomb, The fear I feel in her heartbeats makes my teeth hurt, They turn into fangs with the bitterness I spit, When you take her throat, I see red, But I cannot admit these things to my absent soul, By you I am vilified, Like Christ I'd rather be crucified, My wedding dress you nullified, Let light stream in and burn me alive, Burn me dead, After aeons since the first I thought this bond was unbreakable, 1, 2, 3, women you have guided into your hell, Still your thirst is unslakeable, - But what did I expect? Denn die Todten reiten schnell. (Translation: Because the dead travel fast.)

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