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Johnny Noiπ Sep 2018
The steamship was caught in hellish breakers and about to ground ashore. The storm not noticed until it enveloped the craft in tossing gales of ripping rains and tearing lighting. The pirates had been stranded so long Lizzie had given birth. It wasn’t Quick’s, as the twins had red hair and the lone redhead among the crew was first mate Lance; no one paying any mind, she and Lance openly cuckolding the irascible Captain, who had other matters on his mind. He’d lost Bonny whom he’d paid good money for. In his mind the ***** was a runaway slave and that would only up the price. A feisty strong-willed slave was well worth the pursuit. The missionaries making it ashore on a raft of lifeboats genteelly disembarked at the shore’s edge. Captain Quick getting to his feet raising his pistol and forewarning the others.
“Ay! Looks like we’ve got company, laddies,” he said. “Pilgrims.”
Esmeralda had also given birth; to Remy’s child, the mad genius coming from his much expanded hovel; he and the pirates making a culture for themselves using shells for currency and as ornaments. “Ay what is it, Quick?”
The silent pilgrims drew closer. Quick held his pistol to ready. “They be ghosts I say.”
The tallest vampyr approached them. His lips dry and white speaking without moving. “We seek the Oracle.”
“I’ve got your oracle,” snapped Quick and fired.
The male pilgrims drawing pistols fired on the pirates who jumped to their feet pistol and sword at the go. Ball shot and blood broke out across the beach. Remy at the mercy of the Nosferatu's claws until Quick put a bullet through the vampyr’s head. Remy dashing back into his hovel turned a mushroom cap that emitted sympathetic mists of spores from the overhanging tendrils; microscopic creatures eating into the vampyr’s sandy flesh. The pirates continuing to flail on the withering pilgrims, firing useless ***** until the Nosferatu men were collectively defeated leaving only the female undead standing.
“Alright, you lassies, line up over here,” commanded Captain Quick, “And get those clothes off! Remy! Ya got those irons made of claws?”
“Yes, I have them right here,” said the genius coming from his home carrying an armful of unbreakable restraints.
“Fasten ‘em together. These wenches’ll be fetchin’ a good price. Dare say they ain’t virgins. Godforsaken Puritans they be,” said Quick and spit. “I said get them black rags off!” he raged but the women didn’t move their stiff arms from at their sides. “Okay, boys, have at ‘em!” he shouted and all at once the pirates pounced.
Tearing the austere garments off the backs of the demuring pilgrim women the pirates groped and fondled the wan figures with brusque brutality, pushing them to ground and forcibly parting their rigid limbs. Taking turns ****** every woman old, young and in between, the pirates found themselves growing sick, their skins blanching green and purple.
The blonde child much older than her appearance took one bearded scurv and bit deep into his jugular slurping up the profuse red liquid. Each woman never making a sound taking firm hold of the seafaring hoodlum atop of them, writhing in serpentine gyrations the pirates mistook for arousal, grinding the brittle hips and ******* the pus laden lips; the women’s bones breaking apart due to decomposition all the same sinking their fangs into the lustful wild men; blood spewing in every direction over the white sand.
Now it was the pirates that were vampyrs with only Quick, Remy, Lance, Lizzie and Esmeralda and their three children mortal. Quick, seeing the advantages of an undead crew set about thinking how best to use them.
for Medusa
Edna Sweetlove Jan 2015
The second poem in the series by my alter ego, Count Orlok the wicked Vampyr*

O how the moon peeps out gaily from behind a pink cloud,
Its light shining wanly on the grave of my fat neighbour,
That ugly old ****, Bert Higgenbottom, follower of silly old Jesus,
As my vampyr fangs glisten in the ***** moonlight.

Ding! ****! The midnight bell tolls like the clappers
And I rise fully ***** to begin the horrid task
Which I have been putting off for months:
The ritual defilement of his mouldy corpse.

What a shock to discover his nightdress-clad body
Lying next to his collection of Doris Day LPs;
Thus I turn the putrid plump corpse over carefully
Before sodomising it with my mighty circumcised ****.

Yucch! It's a grim job but someone's got to do it.
Anne Cameron Oct 2009
My gifts to you-

My mind is insane,a shattered remnent of it's self, lost in a world of confusion and fear.

My body,skin as white as new snow, scared and ******, and as cold as the crypt I lay in...

My heart, shriveled and dead, no longer pumps the blood that I drink to keep me warm...

My soul is all I have left of grace and beauty, love and truth...

Take it and leave me now...

It is all I have left of being human.
ac '06/10
Swords and Roses Aug 2015
Mirror, mirror
Said the queen
Self-conscious,
Not wanting to be seen

Mirror, mirror
Every day
Urging wrinkles
Not to stay

Mirror, mirror
She was taught
If she was ugly
She was naught

Mirror, mirror
She cannot feel
Emotions ruin
Her appeal

Mirror, mirror
She feels dead
To the husband
In her bed

Mirror, mirror
Her heart is failing
Her lungs are gasping
Her kidneys wailing

Mirror, mirror
The doctor said
She has a growth
In her head

Mirror, mirror
She cannot stand
But she's still the most
Beautiful in the land

Mirror, mirror
But not anymore
Her place taken
By the child of a *****

Mirror, mirror
She needs a heart
The child has one
There's a start

Mirror, mirror
She's in so much pain
She doesn't know
How to be humane

Mirror, mirror
The child is dead
The heart is weak
But she has fed

Mirror, mirror
The heart has failed
There is no other
That ship has sailed

Mirror, mirror
She is desperate to live
She finds a corrupt magicker
And gives all she can give

Mirror, mirror
She feeds on death
Each soul she takes
Lies in every breath

Mirror, mirror
She carves words in her skin
EVIL, VAMPYR
DEMON, SIN

Mirror, mirror
She moans in the night
Her husband sleeps in a separate bed
Yet still quakes in fright

Mirror, mirror
The child is not dead
All the lives she has taken
When she could have taken one instead

Mirror, mirror
Look at her now
Twisted and broken
Macabre magick on her brow

Mirror, mirror
The child must pay
Perhaps her soul will be redeemed
It is the only way
Arik Fletcher Feb 2010
on cold, dark nights, he can be found,
hid from the lights, upon the ground,

with blood-shot eyes he stalks his prey,
no worldly-ties, no words to say,

his soul is locked beneath the soil,
his body trapped in endless toil,

he hungers for another life,
a chance to end his bitter strife,

alas he must, and always shall,
remain a slave, an immor-tal,

his lust to ****, to drink the life,
with fangs that shame a hunter's knife,

this want and need have all control,
and keep him from his mortal soul,

a slave to blood, to evil needs,
deprived of love, and all good deeds.
Nekatu Poetry © Arik Fletcher
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
All Anne had left to wear was the frilly gown Charlotte had made for her. Not exactly her style but she remembered with some fondness what ****** had said about presenting herself as a lady.
The Kid arrived in the dining room hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. The big woman had ****** out everything he had in him, in a good way, but he felt like he’d lost a few pounds.
“What’s for supper, Mabel?” he asked his voice somewhat unsteady.
“They’s mermaid soup, mermaid cutlets, mermaid fricassee, mermaid casserole, mermaid steak and grilled mermaid fritters.”
“Ain’t there nothing to eat besides mermaid?” he groaned.
“Seaweed,” she said curtly.
“Gadurnit. We’ve been eatin’ mermaids and weeds for days. How about an old fashioned T-bone?”
“You get the cow and I’ll cook it up.”
****** came in looking not at all amused, “Say, Kid we need you up on deck.”
“Yes’m, Mister ******,” said the kid following the cowboy to the aft where ****** pointed over the water.
“We’re being followed. Fritz said there’s a school of mermaids out there. They followed from the island so they can’t be friendly. Think you can pick ‘em off?”
The Kid took his hat off and wiped his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Shoot, Mister ******, that’ll be like shootin’ fish in a barrel, ‘cept it’s the ocean and the fish are mermaids, an’...”
“Just get to it. As soon as you spot one blow it’s ******* brains out. That’s the only way we’re gonna get rid of them. You’ve been with Anne Bonny have ya.”
“How can ya tell?”
“You’ve got her scent all over you. There’s only one ***** onboard smells like she’s been rolling in a soggy mud patch.”
“Gee, ya think Mabel noticed?”
“That gal lost her sense of smell a long time ago. Take care of that business and Mabel’ll be all over ya like always.”
“I reckon you’re right. Let’s shoot us some mermaids.”
“Now you’re talking, Kid. Let’s do it.”
Sinking far below the waves, the evil swimmers kept their telltale fins out of sight, gliding along with the ship’s shadow as it sailed beneath the bright waves. The Kid and ****** scanning the water eyeing only dolphin and shark. “They’re smarter than they look, Kid. I’d bet they put these varmints up to swimming around the boat so they could cook up a scheme. They may taste like fish but they think like women.”
“Gosh, Mister ******, ain’t that the best of both worlds?”
“I guess that depends on which end you get ‘em by.”
Soon after, sailing smoothly out of the Caribbean waters piloted by the old mariner Popeye and navigated by the allwise general, the Green Belle ran afoul of no other nemeses as it made its way down along the east coast of South America. With no real roles on the ship, ****** and Medusa found themselves spending more and more time with each other.
“Why don’t you do something with yourself,” she scolded.
“What?” he said on edge from her relentless rasping nagging.
“All you do is pace. Why don’t you make yourself useful. Fetch me a mint julep” she ordered haughtily; staying in the covers and bedclothes she’d been in for a week.
“Fetch? Fetch! What do I look like?” he growled meanly.
“I’ve been trying to figure that out,” she said snippily.
His eyes flaming he stormed from the room, Medusa paying his tantrum no mind.
Finding Perry with Charlotte in the study, ****** had finally had enough with the uppity Gorgon. “Perry, I need to borrow that contraption.”
Perry, startled making out with the handmaid behind a brocade curtain was just as surprised to hear ******’s request. “Are you sure, Mister ******? You told me you never wanted to see the temporal distorter again.”
“Not that. I’m not gonna mess with that. There are more things going on than you’ve dreamed up in your philosophy. I mean the ship, the Leaping Lizzie. I’m going to take her out and scout ahead. I just need to get off this ****** boat. Get a change of scenery.”
“That’s sounds like a splendid idea, Mister ******. Let’s go discuss it with Fritz. He has maps of the terrain. Depending on what you see we can make any necessary corrections.”
“You’re a right smart feller, Periwinkle. I’ll go scare up Fritz.”
“I’ll go prepare the ship. I’ll meet you up on deck.”
As soon as ****** had left, Medusa grew bored. She found him with Perry on deck standing before the crabship. “What’s going on?” she asked observing the mechanical tentacles at rest.
“Mister ****** is going off to do some exploring,” said Perry. “The Leaping Lizzie II is perfect to find out what’s ahead.”
“Oh!” she said gaily. “I’m going with you!”
“You are?” said ******.
“Let me get Dawn.”
“Dawn?” he said.
****** and Perry looked at one another incredulously.
“I wanted some time alone,” said the cowboy pensively.
“Fiddle-dee-dee! We won’t be any bother at all,” she said fluttering down the hold.
“******. Will I never be rid of that infernal woman,” ****** snarled.
“Now, now, Mister ******. Miss Medusa is only looking out for you. After all you’re only flesh and blood.”
“And she’s a primordial cosmic force. I get it.”
Momentarily the green goddess and her faithful Lady of the Bedchamber were hauling strapped leather cases and hat boxes on deck. “What the hell is all this?” he hollered.
Her eyes met his meltingly. “Why, Mister ******, you don’t expect a lady to go around in the same old dress all the time. We’re going on an adventure. Think about it; the unexplored Amazon! Who knows what kind of beasties we’ll run into!”
“And you want to be dressed for the occasion.”
Smiling she began directing Dawn in loading the ship.
Fritz came up with a rolled map and handed it to ******. “Here you are, ******. The Amazon is due southwest. How do we stay in touch with you?”
“I’ve installed a ticker,” said Perry. “The same kind we used to communicate with Mistress Medusa when she was off conquering the moon.”
******’s eyes flared hopefully. “Yeh. Say Medusa you be in charge of communications. It’ll be your job to stay in contact with Perry and Fritz. Think you can do that?”
“Why, sure, Mister ******,” she said politely, “Um, would you help a lady aboard?”
“Sure,” he said taking her small waist and heaving her up to the hatch, her petticoats billowing in his face.
In another time and place not that far away, Remy Clarke Savage found his life with renewed purpose. Esmeralda and their now several children resting in the shaded grove while he completed yet another monumental life’s work; a machine that would far outstrip the crude Leaping Lizzie in speed and capabilities, outfitting this new vessel with several cannons of Greek fire and exploding shells.
Captain Quick, Lance and Lizzie bonding as family were wary of the zombie hordes all around them. Vampyr mermaids dancing in the inland lake while the rotting crew sang haunted shanties, hoisting steins of ghostly ale. “Ay I’ll be glad to be off this deadman’s reef,” muttered Quick. “Can’t you hurry it along, Remy? I’m wondering if we’ll live through another sunset.”
The dead pirate who’d become liaison to the mortals was Lizzie’s second maid-in-waiting; a woman with two long blonde braids that steadily grew the longer she was dead. Her brain intact and her looks not completely gone. “Ay Captain, my mateys be starving and you bunch are the only meat left on the island.”
His fears confirmed, Quick replied sharply, “I thought your bunch was living off them mermaids.”
“They’ve all turned. Not a one of them is alive or breathing. They’s all vamps and we’z all zombies. Like I was saying you bunch be the only real meals left.”
“Meals?” gulped Remy.
“Is that reason enough to hurry it along, man?” called Quick drawing his broadsword.
Lizzie and Lance drew theirs getting to either side of the Captain.
“You won’t be eating no brood of my *****, missy,” snapped Lizzie.
“Ay that we be lest you can get us raw meat and some brains.”
“Remy!” hollered the Captain as the engineer made the final adjustments.
“She’s all set to go. Hop in.”
“We appreciate your stalling, lassie, but we’s be taking our leave.”
“Aargh!” shouted the pirate woman drawing her sword. The others clambering to groggy feet, weapons in hand. Mermaids snapping sharp teeth from the water’s edge. Esmeralda carrying an armload of children scrambled inside the vessel first, followed by Remy and Lizzie.
“Com on mateys!” he cried as Quick and Lance clashed steel with the lunging pirates. Lance getting inside followed by Quick, Remy quickly shutting the hatch. The behemoth raising up on articulated legs. The dead pirates swords were no match for Greek fire as Remy unloaded a volley onto the beach setting everything ablaze.
Feeling themselves being cooked in the shell Remy manipulated his creation to walk into the water continuing on to the open sea where he propelled it away from the irreparably devastated reef crashing in under its own sodden weight. “Ay there be me home for many a yarn,” he mused. “Now it’s gone.”
“Ay the ****** place was haunted; infested with the undead. That be no home for a living man,” said Lizzie putting an arm over his shoulder. “I be liking your firepower, Remy. How long can that hold out?”
“Indefinitely. Greek fire is inexhaustible.”
“Inexhaustible you say? What say we catch up to that Green Belle and give ‘er what’s her comeuppance?”
“Ay man they’ve got the key to a treasure that’ll be rightly ours,” added Quick.
by Johnny Noir & MEdusa
Johnny Noiπ Mar 2018
a PC gilded age is worse than a violent revolution
a Mormon **** is a library if they're lucky; not big
readers those LDS; I want to marry an Amish girl
before I die & come back a zombie & eat her brain
empty calories; no, if a vampyr bit an Amish girl ah
that would be one smart vampyr or the PC Horatio
Alger; no, a slacker Horatio Alger; a vampyr Horato
Alger; Amish vampyr girl becomes showgirl in vegas
a PC showgirl she doesn't show skin except ankle &
neck; the gloves come off so slow the lights go out;
this is like being on LSD & I'm not on anything; my
neighbor's hogging the madness but I've got all the
possession; in an HP Lovecraft Horatio Alger story
Anne Cameron Oct 2009
I am...Goth (My Way)
I am...Vampyr (Alone)
I am...Raven (Totem)
I am...Wolf (Spirit Guide)
I am...Dragon( Soul Protector)
I am........ I (Forever)
I am...Understanding
I am...Student
I am...Teacher
I am...Love
I am...Truth
I am...Honesty
I am...Belief
I am...Strong
I am...WHO I AM....ALWAYS
Just Me...
;..; V ;..;  2009
Johnny Noiπ Mar 2018
The fisherman was in frigid waters
and his boat was getting blocked
by unseen chunks of floating ice.
The vampyr revealed herself by
standing in the boat and stripping
off her heavy woolen coat.
She was a sight to behold
to his old, cracked eyes and stupidly
he lunged for the nubile curves.
Gripping him by the head &
squeezing his ears until they bled
she pushed him flat on his back
mounting his squirming torso
while feasting on the steamy red
fluid midst the blizzard's white fog.
To thy “stranger”, I would say:
Wouldst thee with flaming embers play?
What wouldst thou give me, for my lore?
A service, or gift from a distant shore?
Ah, I have it—give me a Kiss
I’ll be satisfied with this
“A trifle!" Yea, I do not jest
Since curiosity will not rest
I deem this the fairest price
For my confession of many a vice
In good faith I deign to wait—
‘til my tale is done—thy lips to sate
Sit, for though this tale is short
Thou art my guest in this misted Court

I am a child with a demon’s heart
A confection with a center ****
Through my veins runs not vampyr’s liquor
Rather, ground glass and honey are my ichor
Silk and lace may conceal the malice
But even such are stained, like a tarnished chalice
Raiment white I wear no longer
Storm and night by far are stronger

Tainted as the tainted come
Lust I’ve tasted, and then some
The sweet bite of teeth I’ve often felt
But mine own claws have more damage dealt
For how can shadows of bruises compare
To the unhealed slashes beneath my hair?

But lesser are all blades, fangs, and claws
Than the candied toxins from these tiny jaws
Words—not spells—in many tongues
Physic’ly powered by caged lungs
Caressing, weaving, setting hearts a-daze
Twisting, stabbing, fiery raze
Finally, sever, the building craze
Suffering will not this parasite faze

Their fresh hot tears—my wine
But at Death I draw the line
Darkness in an Angel’s guise
Deception, too, I despise
I can die
But cannot lie

Why so pale and trembling, my dear?
I daresay I know what will give thee cheer
Have my lips—a gift, not a payment
Into the void thy fears will be sent
Thou wilst forget all thy joys and regret
And stay for eternity, as my human pet…

How may I say this, with a face so merry?
Why, ‘tis simple—I am a faerie
written in 2009
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2018
Tis a dilemma to draw down the moon
center of circle & her hair entwined;
the staff raised, the incantation recited;
no real words just babble that comes
through the spirit channeling through
out of the wizard's lips to invoke a she
who is not real smoky doppelganger
of true love with every visage in place;
nightmare's illusion in mortal man's
beauty & enthralled by life itself
no goddess she but a wraith lifted
from beneath the earth; shadowy shade
who though intangible has scales
for flesh slick & smooth as a shark's;
as she takes him in her tentacled arms &
for once it is he who swoons
in vampyr's embrace of loving succubus
dedicated completely to Medusa

— The End —