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Evil Halloween Poems | Evil Poems About Halloween

These Evil Halloween poems are examples of Evil poems about Halloween. These are the best examples of Evil Halloween poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

THE HOUSE OF SPIRITS

It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents,
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.
Witchery or voodoo’s domain, it is a place of salvation for
Spiritual challenged, listen to the beautiful music they make,
Singing within this their walled cage of brick and mortar, these
Ethereal victims lost.
Here in peace they wait for the light to find them, a waiting chamber,
Of the lords misstep souls, those whom walked off the righteous path,
Yet are not without redemptions wanton of need.
Wanders of limbo’s astral plain, seekers whom roam blindly until 
Finding a doorway threshold, then crossing over, into this the house
Of spirits.
A corridors slender passageway, a way stations layover for those tired
And weary travelers to rest until their final journey’s end comes for them,
Sanctuaries power house of the supernatural.
Behind these red doors dare not the mortal flesh clasp the gilded knockers,
For within are things of the unspoken variety, creature protectors waiting at
Bay for the stray intruder to wander forth upon this sacred ground.
Angels kindred brethren whom seek out evil, destroyers patrolling the
Darker shadows for night stalkers whom wish to feast upon the forsaken.
But light’s white power is a mightier force to be reckoned with, and vanquished
Will the devils spawn into the depths from which they came, into the bowels
Of hell shall these demons be thrown into the blackened pit from which they came?
In the twilight’s ethereal hour, a mid-ways breaking point between light and dark,
A shimmering glow strikes this standing watch tower of abandonment’s forgotten,
And heaven’s flood gates are opened unto them, calling these the lost upwards
Towards nirvana and at last know true peace.
It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents.
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.

BY; CHERYL ANNA DUNN

 


Details | Sonnet | |

The Grim Reaper Cometh

As All Hallows’ Eve approacheth my thoughts turneth to darkest dread,
Whilst in old age I harboureth a deep fear of seeing this one’s grim head;
Me thinks the Grim Reaper cometh this time with his scythe in hand,
Which striketh maximum fear in me and maketh him feel quite so grand. 

Death and darkness doth pervade this spirit’s intent from that great beyond,
And bringeth one a chilling fear if one’s destiny be unending Hellspawn;
All Hallows’ Eve is the image I conjureth of my imminent departure,
But I hopeth for divine intervention and protection during this departure.

For I shan’t want to feel the fear and malediction of the Grim Reaper’s gaze,
As he eerily walketh in the deep mist to bringeth my soul into that darkest haze;
I prayeth then Oh Lord God, haveth an Angel escort me on my final trip beyond,
And spareth me the Grim Reaper’s terrifying visit and his image of Hellspawn.

I asketh thy divine power and all goodness in protecting my eternal spirit and soul,
And delivereth them to Heaven on All Hollows' Eve most sound and quite whole!

Amen!  Amen!  Amen! 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(October 25, 2014) (Shakespearean Sonnet in a Rhyme poetic format)


Details | Free verse | |

THE VAMPIRE

For I am death, the personification of pure evil,
The grand godfather, of legions of unnumbered generations.
Behold thy disciples, baptized beneath my crimson waters,
Of blood.
Then reanimated as the living undead, in mine own image,
These are my forsaken children of the Night.
Kissed by the angel of death, I'm resurrections insurrection,
Spawned in hell a creature devoid of heart or soul, yet do I
Exist, biting at the exposed throat of humanity, leaving it
Drained completely dry.
Does not the white lily turn ember red, within this the
Valley of damnation.
My throne is a black coffin gilded in golden refinement,
Residing beneath the wooden lid, the beast sleeps,
Waiting to be embraced by the darkness of night.
Slowly, emerging from mine cryptic mausoleum,
I'm famished for the taste of the living essence
Of mankind.
A gentlemen reaper of the fallen, deeply do these
Fangs penetrate into the soft flesh of humanity,
Tis a dark blessing's supernatural gift, have I been 
So given, to take life then to restore it.
Raw beasts of instinct, clinging to the ethereal
Moon, that hangs above illuminating this,
Our unholy abyss.
Welcome to a shadow nation of the unseen,
Whose roots extend backwards, to an older country’s
Unconsecrated soil, called Transylvania. 
On mine legacies crest, a red dragon with talons
Extended reaches out, grappling for powers control.
For I am Dracula, born of royal blood in life,
But in death I am a king, let these castle walls
Bleed on forever, and the hounds of hell,
Sing outside my rod iron gates.
But beware mortal flesh if you so enter,
For I will enjoy every trespasser,
Whom dares to venture within my
Sacred territory, with a fiendish smile
Upon my hungering face.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

SLENDER MAN

In the thickets wild a shadow figure moves amongst the
Hollows, a deadly presence of evil penetrates through
The forest, it waits as a predator seeking its prey.
On a woodlands path where children do linger, a ghostly
Presences is drawn by innocence, eerily it moves undetected,
From shade to shadows it chokes the chilly autumn air, with
Malice intentions.
It is a beastly creation, thirsting for the youthful souls of the
Young, an abomination worthy of mankind's disdain, appearing
At its own freakish whim, to snatch the unattended children of
Man, then vanishing without a trace.
In a black suit of death he is so dressed, this urban legend,
Called the slender man, with hypnotic eyes of crimson red,
Yet this devil's kindred is sad to have no face.
Hell's spawned demon, with tentacles for arms, reaches out
Out wardly beyond from darkness keep, dragging limp, lifeless
Small shapes of our off spring unto his dark domain's abyss.
This heckling jackal, laughs at our rage, mocking the weeping
Mother who has heard her child screams, in the approaching dusk's
Falling, but it is too late.
Cry for the little children whom are lost unto him, for salvations
Angels of mercy, dare not even challenge him, for he is evil incarnate,
Pure crimson running into the blackness of death itself.
Oh Rock that cradle dear mother, and let the gentle breeze
Brush across the beloved bundle resting within the cradle of humanity,
Sing your sweet
Songs lullaby, but never shall thee leave it, even for a moment,
Beware thy never know whom may be lingering near by.
Proud father, hold tightly to little Johnny hand, feel his tiny trusting
Eyes as you walk along side that well known path, don't stop to speak
To that stranger behind you, for remember to practice what thy preach,
Stranger Danger.
Where does this slender man come from, and why does he thirst for our
Youthful young, no one knows the answer to these questions, but beware
For he strikes with lightening speed, taking that which is most dear to
Humanity.
Let not that small hand slide away from you, no other warmth can feel
As sweet as that of your children's trusting faith, be ever wary, and hold
Your child close, for in the woodlands an evil awaits and they call him,
The slender man.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

AMONGST THE TREES

In the trees the voices whisper, the orbs dance in the swirling mists,
The ethereal winds brush against the living and the undead here cry in 
Valley of discontent.
Twisted are the branches, banging, slamming at the brickened walls,
As many hands smack at the glass within, a prison of spiritual essence,
Death is just another level of existence.
Within the Winchester house, many souls scream in the darkness,
Corporeal beings shift from light to dark, phantoms walk in these haunted
Halls, lightly stepping from earth to air.
From the blood of the fallen innocent do these bricks bleed, build from
Mankind’s greed has this foundation been so built, a cursed vision of 
A tortured old woman, seeking redemptions release from the invention
Of the powder and the gun.
In labyrinth’s maze shadows fade, as if melting ice though hard wooden
Floors and evaporating between solid beams, these victims of life shades,
Have come here to find a solitudes refuge.
At the stroking of mid-nights tolling hour, hear the ancient organ play,
As invisible finger tips strike at the ivory keys, doesn’t the candle stick light
Without combustions fuel, igniting the blue-green flame it flickers without the
Winds breathe.
Softly skeletal remains play, calling the forsaken unto this entrapment of hells
Divine cell of impurities unkempt, its stench lingering in the breeze oozing
Downwards through hallways, and corridors leading unto know where.
The grandfather clock chimes it’s twelfth’s bong, she so comes forward 
Dressed in blackened lace, a white faced vision of opulence elegance, the lady
Of this residence, trying to give thee a personal invite, turn away mortal flesh
If you believe that she is not real, keep strongly woven within thy faiths cocoon.
But on the back bone of reality, a disembodied hand touches your shoulder,
As a chilly rush accelerates your inner ward heart beat, shall you then be brave
Enough to turn around, or has your courage left you alone to face such evil.
But all here belong, and there is no escape, now you amongst the dead you’ve
Found the uneasy peace of the after life at last.
No white light magically enchantment can break the spell, for too many lost 
Souls are woven within this tapestry of darkness; she lives this widow maker,
A spider known as Mrs. Winchester.
In the trees the voices whisper, the orbs dance in the swirling mists, 
The ethereal winds brush against the living and here the undead cry
In the valley of discontent.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN



Details | Free verse | |

THE CLOWN

The entire world loves a clown, 
But wait until they get a load of me, 
Is what the faceless figure under the mask
Says, heckling with laughter's haunting zeal.
After the lights of the midway fade, and the
Crowd's confetti is swept away, it is my turn
To play!
Sedition's malevolent being, lies hidden beneath
A painted on smile, I'm the devil incarnate,
So come along child of innocence, and we'll 
Have a bloody, ghouling good time, just you
And I!
Many props of fun time’s torture, do I possess,
Chose which of these that you think is the best,
I'm not picky in the least, my new playmate.
Beneath the crimson big top, of fleshes canvas,
I'll put on a special show just for thee,
So save your screaming applause, until
After I'm finished if you so please!
All whom wish to join in my private
Carnival of fiendish delight, I welcome
Wholeheartedly, come young or old,
But beware none shall leave alive,
Or without missing a limb, maybe two.
Here comes my brethren in their tiny
Little hearse, did you think I'd not
Invite my kindred on such a special
Event like this.
Nay they've brought their own weapons,
Hatchets, machetes, and wonderful
Instruments as such, why do you look
So frightened, it won't hurt ####, that much.
Now some may say I'm a creature of 
Darkness, an evil being without remorse.
But really under white face's make-up,
I'm just your average serial killer at heart.
Whom is quit creative. In the forgotten dark arts,
Of tortures insidious behavior.
So next time the circus comes to your small
Town remember, just hang around after the
Crowds leave the midway, don't worry 
My friend, for I'll be hanging around just
Waiting for you, no special invite needed.
Signed sincerely, your friend the clown.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Narrative | |

Halloween Eve Black Mass Incantation

We Pray In The Name of Our Father Lucifer, 
Which wert in Heaven:

Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth. 
	
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(October 5, 2014) (Narrative Incantation poetic format)


Details | Free verse | |

THE CITY OF LOST SOULS

Beware, out-Lander for thy tread on the sacred ground,
Of Louisiana, guarded by the ghosts of the Mississippi,
And here the dead tell know tails, of the living's returning,
After adventuring into the darkness of the night.
Rattle them bones, sister voodoo woman,
Black magic's high priestess, cast asunder the 
Ivory teeth of the white devils, across the streets
Of old New Orleans, behold the ancient city of lost souls.
Hidden beneath the glittering mask, of La Carnival,
It is the celebration of the dead, my friend, and faceless
Figures, do toss the beads of evil, to the lustful
Crowds gathering, for Mardi-Grad's extravaganza.
Phantom walkers, without names or emotions, spirit stalkers,
Roaming the old French quarter, seeking to catch the
Innocent traveler unaware and unprotected. 
A wall of realism and illusion, thin is the veils that divide
Light and darkness, sheer vaporous mist of transparency,
Existing in this the forgotten realm, where southern
Comfort invites the living to visit, but never allows them
To leave alive.
As the flickering rays of twilight fades, swallowed whole
By the spectral invaders, the creatures of light seek refuges,
Holy places, as the church bells ring, calling unto the innocent
Make heist to salvation's shelters of grace.
In he city's center, lays a dry leathery organ, sunken
And misshapen, feel the rising, the awakening of the
Heart of evil emerging, its veins arteries made of 
Cobble stones brick, thus are the webbing's of streets leading, 
Unto the deadened heart, metamorphosing it alive once more.
Slowly bloods spiritual essence rushes through
These ethereal veins, reaching this source most
Evil, it owns this city of lost souls, unto the tolling
Hour of dawns first rays of light, crossing the horizon.
Red bricked buildings lay side by side one 
Another, in a design of Gothic manipulation, feeding
Stations made cozy for the living and dead to reside
Within, as the crimson curtains blow freely from the 
Inside out, welcome my friends to the French quarters,
The threshold's crossing, between life and death.
Hear the low thumping of the Jamaican drum,
Mixed with African tongue, chanting in rhythm's
Echoing breeze, softly spoken in whispers are the spells
Of misfortune, a vow's crimson promise, written in blood
Long ago, a demonic pack made between the spiritual native
Inhabitance and the dark heart of the Cajun Bayou.
On bloods throne the Grim Reaper does so sit, next 
To his bride, the Queen known as Mrs. New Orleans,
Both laughing in tandem, with the musical chorus
In this requiem of the dammed.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

THE SKELETON KEY

Wrought liquid metal, hued in the fire's of hell,
Pored into a castings shell, then hammered well,
By the angry fists of Satan himself, behold the skeleton key.
Accursed by evil's malevolent spell, one size fits all,
No locked doors can resist against its turnings twist,
Opening unto the supernatural's mystical power, and unlocking
Humanity's hidden passages and darkest corridors,
Leaving no secrets left unspoken or in silence.
Crimson blood spewing forth from corrupted key holes, oozing
Downwards unto the floor below, staining ancient
Tapestries of the royal gentries, and the upper classes refined.
Skull to the cross bones, it possesses a will of its own, 
A vile living entity, with its own consciousness.
Molding, reshaping itself at pleasures dark whim, 
Feasting on hatred's malice, then releasing it unto the world
Of men.
A twisted wanton thing, laughing with intentions cruelties,
And relishing in our agonies pain.
But Homo sapiens are a curious species, never realizing when to
Leave things well enough a lone.
We must know what lies beyond that forbidden
Door, where mankind is not allowed to trespass.
In these dark places of shadows ethereal, it rocks in a fetal 
Ball, a creature, waiting to be disturbed, go then seek what lurks therein,
If you dare, only the key knows what it really is, and it laughs,
At our ignorance, mocking us in the darkness.
Four it is the beast, chained and shackled within our worst
Nightmares, a fierce devilish demon, that pierces through the
Darkest of night, to hunt the innocent souls of wayward men.
You've have ventured to far, beyond thy safety zone of no return.
Four death lies in those reddened eyes that watch you within 
The darkness.
If you move it will attack, motions movements attracts
Attentions reactions, so remain frozen there is no safety's retreat
Thou'art trapped, again the key so laughs in the abyss,
Mocking at humanity's ignorance.
Shaking with anticipations glee, it begs the next
User to place it into the key hole, of the unknown, come along 
Now what can it hurt, just one little peek, let’s look beyond the crimson
Door, as the skeleton key heckles with unbridled happiness.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

THE HAUNTED

THE HAUNTED

In the silence darkness shows his presence, a lull and then acceleration,
A disturbance that awakens with dominance, the very heart of evil,
Dwelling within the inner sanctum of the Amityville house,
The stairway banisters shake with intensity.
A spectral quake and the walls become electrified with corporal power surges.
Lights flicker on and off the inward eyes of the house open wide as old bones
Quiver with anticipation like a hungry animal awaiting its feast on delivery,
Essence chills the air with a frosty mist, and fills the house with an eerie
Ethereal oria.
Rawness takes hold of the interior house, a graveyard erected on unsanctified
Property.
It has become a surge house for the supernatural.
The undead fee off the fear of men, who have been sapped of life force.
Nothing left except a dead corpse, caught between two worlds.
A vortex un-attainable by doorway or threshold.
There is a welcome mat marked by a skull n’ cross bone, it reads, “Dare not
Enter mortal flesh, or yea shall become part of this house.
Blood legacy forever.”
Voices within the walls scream with eternal fear, warning with howls, ‘Get out!”
“Get out!”
The evil laughs are heard o’er flowery wall paper that drips of crimson plasma.
It cascades downwards from the ceiling, soaking the baseboards.
Doors to the exist retreat and slam shut.
The window locks turn inward, and drapes fall shut.
No natural light to warm the icy halls. Trapped in a maze be-known as the Amityville house.
Small fleshless hands rip as the hair rises at the nape.
A voice whispers into your ear, “I am here, with you,” in the void you stand alone.
Panic fills your inner being; you’re alone in the dark with the unknown.
A mortal clinging to the edge of reality, a rift is heard, “CRACK” beneath your feet.
You are left dangling with two single hands grapping you, it and between oblivion.
Splinters of light hit the ebony trees from a distance away; Neha the Sacred Heart Priestess refines the grounds with her finesse.
Neha has a history of Exorcism successes.
It includes haunted house clearings, demonic possessions by forcible entry.
She casts them out with her outstanding humdinger light.
Her methods are un-cosher and as sporadic a whistling winds of tinnitus brawls.
She grates on those fallen soldiers who fin out too late that they have been duped in the army of Satan.
Neya raps on a skully warped door and scarf’s the threats that groan their way have
Inside of her.
Speaking in an insolent way she lets them know they have met their match.
Guttural sounds disseminate through the attic walls, and sent maggots scurrying
At her feet.
Undefeated, she picks one up and crunches between her teeth.
She presses bellows, n’billow, make yourself scarce as a tree in the meadow’
A howling voice in the meadow’ A drum and then with one last push n’shove the spectral flees through a cracked window.
Neha re-adjusts the amulet that had been strong-held round her neck, and says in calm voice” THIS HOUSE IS CLEAN’ then she sets out North, to find her sister’s three in the heart of the Sacred Forest.

Written By: Mystic Rose & Cheryl Dunn
For contest: Halloween Co-write
October 13, 2014-10-13


Details | Free verse | |

THE MUSIC BOX

Is it simply just a wooden music box?
Charming the human soul, with its melodic undertone,
What a hypnotic melody it so plays, enticing the listener
With its delicate waltz' sweetly strumming, exposing it's
Mystical quality of the supernatural
By its spiritual essence attractant, I'm thus so memorized,
A ballerina dancing in step, with the spell cast upon me,
Thus do so I spin, on this stationary pedestal, unable to move
On my own volitional power of chose and free will, 
I've be consumed utterly,
By the haunting tune, compelling me do its evil bidding.
The notes grow slower, unwinding until perfectly still,
But I'm not in a daydreams nightmare, I suddenly realize 
This absurdity is reality, has become real.
I'm that tiny figure within a child's musical box,
Frozen in stances freeze, unable to cry
Out for help, for made of wax am I now.
Then the lid is gently shut upon me, and in the
Darkness a sadistic voice, heckles and mocks
Me, speaking in musical notes it sings a deadly
Lullaby, rest eternal my beauty for you belong
To me now.
I've become a play thing to be tormented,
Languishing within this jewelry box.
Caught in this land of giants, whom wind
These musical chimes, to join me as a 
Prisoner's collection, of a thief called music.
Whom orchestrates this symphony of the demonic?
I dare not ask, for the voices anger would
Ravish what little is left of my humanity,
So I smile, and I dance at its pleasures
Whim, but within my soul a flickering
Ray does burn still, and it is called hope.
The music screams in terror's disbelief,
For the giants house has caught in flames,
And now he is the prisoner captured
Within a wooden tinder box.
I do so smile as I myself melt away,
Listening to the voice begging for help,
But no one comes to aid such evil as he.
But I am free at last, and except death
As a comforting friend's reprieve,
From the beast, is it just a simple?
Wooden music box.
 
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

 
 
 


Details | Free verse | |

THE VAMPERIC PRAYER-DRACULA'S OATH

In the name of blood, for it is the source of life itself,
Plasma's crimson essence of liquid infusion, to the undead's
Pulsating heart.
Intravenously feeding cravings passion, through the carotid
Artery at the throat of humanity, thou'st not love, suffer
The pleasure indulge the pain, the out come shall be the same,
To be embraced by the black ebony arch angel of death,
Release thy darker side, let the instinctual behavior of the beast,
Know freedoms unshackling at last.
Become one of his sacred disciples, a creature of his dark dimension,
A kindred being, unto the legion of the night.
In the moon's elliptical light, shadows thus move from 
Left to right, shifting as transparent figures, phantoms of
Illusions, taking winged flight, soaring on the currents
Of air mingling with their ancestral brethren, the vampire bat.
Run does not the lone wolf, along the side path next to man,
As we do so walk amongst them, yet never attempting to belong.
Oh are we not the a shunned, the accursed, by a God known
For his forgiveness, to love all living things under
Heaven, but for us this mightiest of lords, turns
His gaze away, not acknowledging our existence.
Our we not his lost sheep, missing from his flock, why
Does not this Sheppard seek this black lamb’s wool,
Is it too coarse for weaving's wheel, as it spins thus
And is it not said that he created all life within his image.
Nay I pray this vamperic prayer, why has he abandon
Us, the darker of his creations.
Behold the unascended, begging to enter beyond the gates
Of light, children of the lost are we, seeking a father blind
To his responsibility.
Harvesting, by the basic instincts given unto us,
Taking only what we need to survive, for this he has turned
Against us, and thus taking the light of day with him.
So my father of damnation's hell, has offered salvation's
Darker domain as a sheltering harbor of comfort, I will not
Abstain his patronage.
For I am the ashunned, living by the moonlight's haunting glow,
Yet yearning to see one last horizons sunset, but the Holy Father,
Hears not my humble vamperic prayer.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

THE HAUNTED BRIDE

In the night's chilling air a phantom figure, drags itself from
The watery edge of the river bank, emerging, rising upward
From beneath the moonlight's illumination, she is free, to walk
The earth's spiritual plain of existence once more.
In soaken layers shifts, of tatters whiten lace, the corporeal
Image moves across the old chapel's courtyard.
Slowly this deaden heart of the betrayed, shuffles through
The fallen autumn leaves, crunching them under the weight, of
Her drenched wedding gown.
The haunted bride, carries a wilted bouquet of for-get-me-nots,
As she weeps, walking down the aisle of past regrets.
This virgin maiden, sounds a low mournful sobbing, that echoes
Against the marble ruins, of a dilapidated church steeple.
Lifting skeletal limbs, step by step, this bride of
Desolation climbs unto the threshold of condemnation.
Her wailing screams grow louder, and louder with each
Movements, begging, pleading for salvation's penitence.
But in the Lord's realm, the haunted bride has violated the sacred
Laws of God, so is she doomed for all eternity, to repeat her final,
Moments of life.
Wareing the veiled shroud of death, beauty's once fare,
Is nothing more then illusion's shadow vision of the forsaken.
A victim of abandonment's fall from grace, for consumed by
Sorrows pain, did she take her own life, in limbo she is the accursed.
Slowly descending in sheer remorse, her tears cascade
Downwards, staining the holy soil therein, her unkempt train
Trails behind this ivory phantom, with muddy green
Seaweed woven amongst the antique lace.
Cold watery waves crash against the murky shore,
A foreboding eerie mist lingers up top the rippling lake,
One last air's stale breathe she does inhale, as again life's
Essence leaves, become just exploding bubbles,
Popping at the waters surface.
Here the haunted bride so does rest, in a fathom's aquatic crypt,
Beneath the dark abyss of no return.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

THE CATACOMBS

Deep beneath the busy streets of France,
Lies a hidden realm of the undead, cryptic tombs,
Of the ancient.
Dusty corridors, lined with skulls and cross bones,
An eerie tributes monument, for the once living,
Now deceased.
Sacred hallows of the darkness left behind,
Those not forgotten, but not remembered by
Names sake.
In these mazes called the catacombs, beware
The screams echoing, for within spirits seek out
The living, whispering enchantments of bewitchment.
Ever so lightly do finger tips touch, at thy naps of the
Back of ones neck, giving visitors an icy chill.
Gleaming eyes of crimson, seem to pierce through
The veils of night, seemingly to watch thee, the
Daring explorer, whom has traveled without
Supervised accompaniment.
Roaming at freedoms will do these creatures of
The supernatural, hunt in this arena of the undead
Lingering and feasting on souls whom do not
Realize there is no except from this ethereal
Mortuary.
There is no prayer or talisman charm for
Protection here, in this realm of the unknown,
Blessings virtue is lost amongst the tormented.
Stacked carcasses of human kind, decorate these
Chambers far below, beneath the city of romance
And mystic.
Yet in heaven angel's so do weep, for the lost
Souls never receiving salvation redemption,
Forever caught in limbo's dimension, do the
Unfortunate wander without mercy's hope.
For here God's everlasting light shall not penetrate,
Through the shrouded mists of darkness,
It thickness is to great, this vaporous mist of
Corporeal essence lingers in every shadows corner.
But I'll cry for them, a tear's grace, that maybe
One day they'll know the lord's final grace,
In these the forgotten catacombs.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

AROUND THE CORNER

What evil power of the supernatural lies at the heart of the commentary?
Can you not feel when entering these rod iron gates, the icy chill permeating
From beyond these grounds of the unknown?
What raw instinctual force urges us forwards, propelling us into this tombstone
Receptacle of the ethereal waste bin.
It lurks therein as a vapors misty wind, a presence of a Dominic the essence of
Darkness, peeking around the corner of existence watching humanity as a voyeur,
Laughing at our inner fear, feasting upon the physic energy that connects the living
To those once a live now dead.
Bleed do the headstones of our assisters, warning us to leave this place of death,
Melting legacy’s names and their dooms day dates into oblivion, the very ground shutters beneath your feet, screams sounding board ignites your irrational sides
Basic instinct to run yet physically you can not move, panics realization sets in the
Graveyard wants you to stay?
It calls to you now, a voice that whispers ever so seductively, come join us, be one
With us, here know everlasting peace within these chilling arms of death, feel it’s Foreboding embrace enveloping your mortal soul.
It will promise you anything to stay but no it’s the mouth of the serpent, a fork tongues
Illusion, slithering towards you, back away slowly, never turn your back towards such
Evil my friend, for then it will strike at thee.
From your mental haze a flickering flame shines through it is a holier light, blasting
Outwards it strikes against the green-flame blinding you, with intensity’s almighty
Force it lunges against the darkness, beating it backwards from whiniest it came.
The fog momentary lifts and you run for your life, but in the night the voices still
Seem to cling unto your everlasting soul.
What lurks in the graveyard, what draws us there, our inner curiosity, to seek the Unknown hidden passageway, to the other side of reality?
What lies around the corner of the gravestones, it is a supernatural force of the Dominic,
And it calls unto the innocent,
Repeat after me, my dearest friend, the lord is my Shepard and I shall not want?

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN







 


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SUPERSTITIOUS

Superstitious, a black cat left unaware, stepping
Lightly in front of thee, I'll side step in the other direction,
If you don't mind, I'm not one to tempt the wicked finger of fate,
Tall is the ladder left unattended, never go underneath
If you wish to come out unscathed on the other side.
Scat cat, that darn pussy-cat not realizing
That she is in the danger zone.
Long and sleek is kitten's pretty tail,
In a nursing home, full of rocking chairs.
Friday the thirteenth, a superstitious holiday,
For the unlucky not to celebrate, never have
I heard one of these poor souls say, Yippee,
On this the unluckiest of days.
Creek, crack don't step on that crack,
Or you'll break your mother's back,
Remember this on mother's day, for her
Heavenly sake alone.
Toward off bad lucks evil spell, toss salt
Over your left shoulder, but always use
The refined version kind my friend, never use
The rock salt variety or you may hurt whom
Ever is right behind thee.
Drop a penny, heads or tails, face up is good,
But tails leave it lie, for its bad mojo, and that's
No lie.
Superstitious people are we, to believe in all this
Mubo Jumbo, rubbing rabbit foots, and really come on now, do four
Leaf clovers bring good luck, so if this is true, I'll plant a garden of
Them, then I'll play the lotto.
Humanity, we are a funny species, to give credence,
Faith to any of this stuff, but just encase I'll eat an apple
Everyday to keep that nasty doctor away, ok.

Superstitions voodoo woman, rattle them bones, of super natural power.
Up side down horse shoes, bring only misfortune to the cowboy, turn it right side up.
Premonition's foretelling should be marked down not brushed aside.
Esp. is perceptions of things to pass, don't listen, and it's your own fault.
Rituals done wrong can be a big mistake so for heavens sake alone go to church.
Sinister is the wolf that hunts by night, as a silver bullets shot rings out.
Tooth to fang, garlic is just not a vampire’s thing.
Incantations spells of mystery, can get old witchy in a lot of bubbling trouble.
Trick or treat what a feast, remember don't over eat, or you may get a soar tummy.
Icy ghostly images with spots, remind one to take the sheets to the Laundromat.
Optimism is a positive force, against the negative on the supersitionious coarse.
No nonsense about it, I do so like the darker side of Halloween.
Superstitions are a great topic for conversations, especially on Friday the 13TH.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


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EBONY ROSES-SALEM

In the garden of forbidden mysticism, grows thus sorrows
Black rose bush, deeply rooted are the vines of incantations
Dark spells of discontent, drawing it's evil powers of the
Supernatural from the crimson soil.
Plucked are these ebony blossoms, by the hand of death
Himself, the Grim Reaper, and tenderly he places them upon the
Unmarked graves of the living, but only a single bloom.
Nay in Salem's orchard, did these darkened petals fall, 
Blowing in the breeze of misfortune,
Castings’ leaving’s of the innocent a shunned, so unjustly
Accused and misjudged.
But strung on the blood lines of truth, do so ring
The bells of vengeance rage, echoing in the far distance,
Hear their ethereal voices of the forsaken, crying out why?
For every evergreen leaf, is the representation of inheritances
Legacy to those of the forgotten and betrayed.
Dipped in red ink is the mighty quilt pen, of the dark
Hooded Inquisitor, behold a dead man's list of names,
Burnt offerings sacrificed on the alter of a corrupt pulpit.
Written on fleshes supple parchment scroll, and sanctified by
The greed of deceit.
Oh woe to thee whom bares the witches mark, for in Salem
Thou’ art doomed, by the serpent's fork tongue of innocence,
Nay suffer the little children, but here they are the wolves set
Amongst the lambs of the innocent.
Beware their howl by day or night, for in fierceness's bite
It has no equal, and if thy name they call, your life has
Been forsaken one in all, but the lord hears you the voices of
Salem, and thus sends his servant unto thee.
Guilt's judgment is superficial, the verdict has already been so written,
Before the jury even comes within the court room, and the gavels
Heavily leaden hammer is struck.
Blown wide open are these church doors, and a hooded man
Thus so enters, cursing those within, and giving each one a single
Ebony rose, the Grim Reaper so speaks, I'll see you soon, in my kingdom
Of damnation's sorrow.
Turning from when'st he came, to the victim residing upon the stand,
Towards the heavens look child of light for thee I have no black ebony
Roses/
But instead a white rose shall the angels on high, will give unto
Thee, and will you then know God's everlasting peace

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


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Edgar's ink

In homage to Mr Poe....


He dreamt a dream, 
a violent vignette 
a sorry scene, 
he could not forget

He rose from his rest
and bolted the bed,
but the visions he'd viewed
would not leave his head

He set to scribbling
those terrible thoughts,
thinking that would
be the release he sought

He penned a poem
of the saddest sorrow,
a vivid volume
of terrible tomorrows 

He wrote those words
in an ink of tears,
with a pen of pain,
on a sheaf of fears

He trusted those thoughts
would salve his soul
so he'd sleep soundly
in his hole

But when he woke
again next night,
his heart now had
a fearful fright 

He saw in waking
the very scene
that'd in his sleep
afore he'd seen

As he looked on
his horror grew
and as he watched
'twas then he knew

Now, in his room
the dream did dwell;
it truly held
him in its spell

This cursed vision
of fear and fright
now ruled his mind
both day and night

But then, he saw
the candle burn
and his fevered thoughts 
began to turn

He took the pages
that he did write 
and held them to
the candlelight

The words began 
to dance about
and leapt from the page
with a mournful shout
 
The pages then
burst into flames
and ran round him
chanting names

'Oh Lucifer,
Beelzebub, 
Sammael
and Belial'

'Baphomet,
Mastema, 
Lilith and
Azazel'

The words whirled round
and round his head
as he lay quivering 
in his bed

And as he watched,
he came to see
his own body
floating free

He began to spin
at such a pace
no longer did
he know his place

He'd spun so fast
by this evil's throttle
he turned to liquid
and was quickly bottled

And now he waits,
he sits and thinks
of when another
will use that ink

To write a poem
of pity and pain,
so he may yet
be freed again


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Vampire Chickens

Beware of those vampire chickens this Halloween season. Their thirsting for your blood is the primary reason. These black nocturnal creatures fly into the night. After the stroke of midnight, they cause insurmountable fright. These evil birds come right up from hell. They make the average bat look like Tinkerbelle. It is a well-known fact that chickens have no teeth. Blood sucking ability is something they will not bequeath. If chickens really were so evil and devilish, the late Colonel Sanders would have made his fortune selling fish.


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Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part One

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz

Prologue
This is a rather grim epic poetic tale of Rosalia, a 16th century German witch who terrorized villages, destroyed the lives and corrupted the souls of many people throughout the countryside in the Harz Mountains in Germany. 

Rosalia focused her evil and malicious activities at the outset in a land area directly below the Brocken summit in the Harz. Over the time and extent of her macabre reign as a Black Witch and a Master of the Black Arts, Rosalia began to expand her campaign of evil among other provincial areas of the Harz beyond the Brocken. Her periodic nightly raids on villages in the Harz are part of the continuing legends of witchcraft and sorcery that still pervade the local culture there to this very day. 

Rosalia in modern day parlance was the “real deal” when it came to wreaking havoc and pandemonium among mankind. That is, she was truly a redoubtable force of evil and unmitigated malevolence, not to be toyed with nor underestimated by anyone seeking to confront her. Rosalia was bent on fulfilling Lucifer’s principal goals: destroying the peace and harmony of mankind; disrupting the holy balance of the relationship between Man and God; corrupting the eternal souls of men, women, and children; extinguishing the light in the world; and bringing mankind into darkness and despair.       

Rosalia’s Entrée to the 16th Century
Rosalia was born and later raised as a child in a Witches’ coven.
Although Rosalia was born in the 16th century again in human form, 
she was, in reality, a reincarnated evil soul many centuries old.
Her Hell-spawned soul was seared in Hell’s very own oven, 
and like the Gorgon Medusa herself—she was a creature gone wild. 

Rosalia indeed was also an intense and a very precocious child: 
who was imbued with uncanny and unearthly powers,
who was “left-handed” and obviously “sinister,”
who possessed a keen and piercing intellect,
and had scaurous, strong ankles and a schnauzkrampf-like mouth,
and was fisslingual like the Devil—with a “forked tongue,” 
who had a horrifying and monstrous Medusa-like appearance
at a glance—stark and menacing, frightening and rapacious, 
with jet black stringy, snake-like hair and black teeth,
with dark probing eyes and exceptional sensory perception,
and a bulbous, bile-ridden black wart . . . 
protruding on the lower left side of her nose close to the tip.

Rosalia and Black Magic were one in the same, and
her craggy appearance and coarse demeanor—black wart and all,
her deceptive powers, and her utter malevolence toward man— 
all constituting a terrifying reflection of pure evil and foreboding, 
and all the while illuminating mankind’s quizzical wonderment 
at the power of die Hexerei.

Rosalia was aptly known and greatly feared as the “Queen of Walpurgis Nacht,” “The Devil’s Concubine,” and “The Queen of Darkness.”

Rosalia delighted in being “The Devil’s Concubine” by name,
for her liaisons with Lucifer made her omnipotent and devoutly unholy.
Her unbridled sense of power and invincibility was this Black Witch’s aim,
for this fed her conviction to do vicious and evil things—to be unholy.

Rosalia’s Power and Relationship to the Devil
It is said that Rosalia’s power of Witchcraft and the Black Arts
derived from her worship to and direct relationship with the Devil himself,
thus making her virtually omnipotent, all-powerful.

As the most favored disciple and mistress of the Dark One
Rosalia acutely honed her pagan skills in the Black Arts 
to the highest rapture while using her Gorgon-grimaced face
to strike fear in all who resisted her using a withering and wicked 
mesmerizing gaze with which she paralyzed her victims with unending
torment, agony, and fear.

On occasion she would extract the putrid bile liquid from her Black Wart
and used it to poison and corrupt the life essence of her victims—if they resisted.

The utter revulsion and palpable fear felt by Rosalia’s victims
was practically indescribable given its horrible nature. 

Both her power and her conviction to do vicious evil things 
appeared to be wrapped in a cloak of seeming invincibility.

Lucifer did exceedingly well in his choice of Rosalia as his most favored disciple and mistress—for she savored his ferocious favor and unleashed without a conscience a torrent of evil doings and unholy machinations on those unlucky enough to cross her path.  

To know Rosalia was to realize a gorgonesque damnation forever 
while she pursued the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.
In time Rosalia was granted the power over all hell-spawned demons forever to support and consummate her unholy activities in the name of Lucifer.

End of Part One
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


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The Bell House Tower

We seen a dim light upon top of the Bell House Tower
a dark shadow slipped by it in the midnight hour.

What was that? I asked my friend, I don't know
she said, but it looked like something that's met
it's end.

The wind was blowing with such a strange howling
and all the city lights were off making it dark for
mysterious prowling.

A loud, maddening laughter rang through the air and
stood on our arms, every one of our hairs. We ran like
crazy down the ally way and never looked back until
the light of day.

The next morning a crowd had gathered at the Bell House
Tower and every one was shocked to see it was the bell
ringer who rung the bell, hour upon hour.

Not a sign made anyone sure of what happened, but we know
what we heard in the midnight hour, mad laughter from upon
top the Bell House Tower.


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Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Eight

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Eight

On the next morn’ at dawn the sentence of hanging until dead was carried out on Rosalia. Her body hanged from the gallows’ rope for three days and then was consumed, as pronounced, in the hottest of fires until only fine burnt ashes remained. 

Conclusion
One interesting thing occurred though at the conclusion to all of this:  no one seems to know whatever happened to those “fine burnt ashes” of Rosalia. It is rumored that even in the Harz today in this 21st century that no one knows where her ashes ultimately ended up at. Were they buried in an urn?  Disposed of in a river?  Or did one of her old disciples who escaped Archangel Gabriel’s retribution manage to scoop them up for some future Black Mass resurrection ceremony?  The rumors surrounding this anomaly still abound today and have never fully been explained. Time will tell.

Rosalia’s final curse on the church court and all who were in attendance at that time, is still in force today. Who knows if this is really the case?  It is said, however, that the power and spells and curses of old Witchcraft never truly die, and that they will be with mankind as part of the continuing struggle between Good and Evil until the end of time.

Rosalia—the Evil Black Witch of the Harz, may indeed be back one day in a more modern form to wreak her festering revenge on those present day relatives of those early familial forbearers who condemned her to death in the 16th century. The Devil may have sacrificed his most loyal witch and favorite mistress in the struggle with Archangel Gabriel in the 16th century in order to plan an even greater cataclysmic clash with the Lord God in a later century. Given the perpetually evil nature of Rosalia’s lost soul and her strict condemnation of God, she may well be reincarnated one day again to serve her Master’s bidding. She would want that to happen. Perhaps it already has. 

And so, if one day you should find yourself and your loved ones on a visit to the Harz, and you’re walking along very contently and comfortably and are basking in the sunshine of the beautiful and majestic deep forested area in and around the Brocken summit—Beware!!!—if you should suddenly see an immediate darkening of the clouds in the sky while also feverishly feeling and sensing the bone cold chill of a very frigid breeze and perhaps begin hearing and feeling the sonorous swooshing vibration of Rosalia’s broom as she flies very fast on it through the air close by—and then, you all of a sudden begin hearing that sneering, snickering, taunting, terrifying, and tormenting sound of Rosalia and her craggy and frightening old evil voice— IF THIS BE SO!!!—it may be too late for you and your loved ones. 

This is THE END of the epic poetic tale of Rosalia—the Evil Black Witch of the Harz.  Or is it???

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Free verse | |

SIN CITY-LAS VEGAS

On the streets of sin city, on the high roller's main drag,
Known as the Las Vegas Strip, a gentlemen phantom
Does stroll dressed in all black attire, striding forth with his golden Cain,
Flipping a silver chip into the air, and mocking at its power.
The devil's agent of deception is he, retaining a list of names
To collect upon, this gentlemen bandit of the forsaken.
He is here on the dark master’s behalf, ready to claim on
The I.O.U's signed by the greedy, and innocence fallen.
Quietly, moving amongst the crowded venues, he waits
Until his lord calls the name of the unlucky, to be reposed.
Dance do the neon lights, flashing towards pleasure dens of iniquity,
As ladies whom belong unto the night itself, offer their
Tokens of favor, for a working man's paycheck.
Black jacks twenty-one, cut those cards, and pass them out
The first timers dumb luck, will deliver him unto evil,
On this walkers dead man's list tonight.
Against the loaded dice, no soul is left unsanctified,
On the sacred green velvet altar, the wheel of fortune
Spins out of control, then hitting the baccarat tables
Wooden wall, someone screams snake eyes. 
Then all is lost, faded are the dreams of illusion, melting away
Into the harsh desert soil, along the road side leading to sin city.
Beneath the arid sandy duns, lies the grave yard
Of the unknown unidentified, a missing persons
Smorgasbord of the rich and infamous, lying right
Beside, the unreported poor man corpse.
This is the Grim Reapers play ground, taunting
And tormenting, those begging for redemptions
Last chance to gain a reprieves pardon.
But when tapped by his golden cain of death,
Your life's essence has wagered it's last bet,
To the winner goes the spoils, and now you
Belong unto the devil.
People say what happens in Vegas stays
There, and rightly so will he agree, with his blackened
Heart and soul, for after all is this not
The capital of hell on earth, known as
Sin City, Las Vegas, Nevada.
The populations of the undead just added
Another’s names tally and the gentlemen
Dressed all in black, is sent a wandering
Again amongst the crowed streets, to claim
Another victim in the dark master’s wrath of
Vengeance.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


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Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Seven

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Seven

The Final Days:  Rosalia’s Death and Destruction
In the wake of such evil, debauchery and depravity what can be said now in the case of Rosalia?

Now in her mortal form the old black witch no longer had the unspeakable power of hell-spawned evil at her instant command. In spite of the victory of the power of goodness and light and the attenuation, if not the dissolution of witchcraft in the Harz, the memory of who Rosalia was and what she had done could now begin to be eased somewhat from the minds of local people and the clergy. But the memory of Rosalia and her evil could never be forgotten.  How could it be otherwise?

After three months of confinement in the dungeon at the Burg Worlerede, a fortress castle, very near to Cloister Marten in the Harz, Rosalia was eventually tried and convicted in a special church court convened at this castle to try cases concerning witchcraft and sorcery, which were beyond the normal jurisdiction of civil courts. Monseigneur Wolfgang Augustus Hardenberg of Cloister Marten was the residing church chief judge with four priests in his assistance serving as subordinate church judges.  One civil magistrate judge from the local Harz provincial government participated, in an advisory capacity, with the five church judges in these special judicial proceedings against Rosalia.

Everyone in attendance at the witchcraft trial of Rosalia knew what the outcome would be. With that said, the testimony of her victims on public record dragged on for several weeks, to include the final interrogation and confession of witchcraft and supreme evil doings by Rosalia herself.

In her rebuttal statement to the assembled church tribunal, Rosalia actually gained some of her old fire back as she spoke to the group—in a taunting and derisive manner. Rosalia showed no remorse whatsoever for what she had done and perpetrated upon others. She still renounced the Almighty Lord God and did not ask for his mercy and forgiveness. Her love and passion for being and existence was still with her god, Lucifer, who had forsaken her at last in her hour of need during All Hallows’ Eve and the Black Witches’ Sabbath. 

As easy as it might have been at that moment to pity such a pathetic and revolting creature, Rosalia’s hurtful words in complete defiance of God and her taunting mockery and snickering at the victims of her black deeds were beyond the pale of any shred or strand of human decency.

At the conclusion of Rosalia’s rebuttal statement, Monseigneur Hardenberg announced the verdict and sentence of the special church court:

“Rosalia, Black Witch of the Harz and Purveyor of Lucifer’s Evil on this Earth, you are hereby adjudged by this special court of being guilty of the practice of Witchcraft and Sorcery, and the murder of untold numbers victims over the centuries to this present one, and for the malicious corruption of your victims’ souls as they died in torment and faced the reality and agony of eternal damnation. And your acts even against young children and babies are so unspeakable and abominable that they readily defy any iota of rational understanding in our human society here on Earth. All these actions reflect your absolute depravity and lack of regard for human life, and they defy directly the teachings of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. All of your transgressions have been entered into the final record by this assembled court.”

“As a priest and a man of the cloth, I would normally ask the Almighty Lord God to have pity on you and your soul. But you have no mortal soul since you have been in very long service to Satan himself. Once more, you have committed the ultimate sacrilege by renouncing the Almighty Lord God yourself.”

“Therefore, there can be no plea of mercy or divine forgiveness rendered for you by this court on your behalf.  Your final fate and disposition beyond the reach of this court lies ultimately with your master—Satan.”

“It is therefore the judgment of this court that you Rosalia—Black Witch of the Harz—be taken on the next morn’ at dawn to the gallows specially constructed here at Worlerede and this is where you shall be hanged by the neck until pronounced dead, and then your mortal body shall continue to hang for three days on public display, for all to see, and then your mortal body shall be burned by fire while it is still in its hanging position. Your mortal body shall burn until it disintegrates into nothing but fine burnt ashes.”

“In God’s name, this is so adjudged and it shall be done!”
 
As Monseigneur Hardenberg finished his verdict and sentencing, before Rosalia was to be bound and shackled for her departure from the court, he asked her if she had any final words for the court.

At that very moment the wily old hag became extraordinarily animated, and in a wild-eyed uncontrollable manner, jumped high into the air with an energy she had not possessed in a while and made this very provocative pronouncement to the Monseigneur and all concerned:

“Monseigneur you may have me hanged and burned into nothingness, but I shall once again triumph with Lucifer’s will and power behind me for I lay eternally in his bed and seek not Jehovah’s forgiveness and the rapture of Heaven. My Master will restore me once again and resurrect me to return and execute his evil deeds once again here on Earth. It is I who renounce you and all the people assembled in this court. I renounce what all of you stand for. I curse all of you forever, and I shall be there at the very Gates of Hell awaiting the day when I can greet all of and condemn you to eternal hell fire and damnation on my Master’s behalf. A curse of death and eternal damnation be upon you all, and all of the relatives who follow you for future generations to come!”

End of Part Seven

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


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Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Three

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Three

Vespers’ Prayer Preparation for Black Mass
In preparation for the ritual Black Mass at midnight, Rosalia recites the following prayer incantation which must be rendered latest at 6:00 pm on the eve of the Black Mass. This is a six-hour process that lasts until midnight when the actual Black Mass ceremony formally commences. The Vespers’ Prayer incantation by Rosalia reads as follows:

We Pray In The Name of Our Father Lucifer, 
Which wert in Heaven:

Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth. 

Rosalia’s Sacrilegious Activities and Mask of Deception
Rosalia was very self-aware of her bewitching and beguiling activities,
and her seasoned ancient command of the instruments of evil and debauchery, whether by plan or at will, to execute her nefast activities against all who were innocent and unsuspecting. Her negative actions left an indelible stain and a wicked scar of evil on the spiritual psyche of all of her victims.   

Rosalia was also vividly aware of the Church’s knowledge of witchcraft and sorcery, as written, codified and passed down by two Catholic inquisitors in the Malleus Maleficarum published in 1486. The power of her profane instruments of witchcraft found many of their original associational relationships with certain sacraments and church procedures, but were later corrupted and brought to the dark side to aid the Devil’s work. What was once good, could become instantly impious, if the witches focused their negative efforts and pagan power on corrupting and harming mankind.   

And so, Rosalia understood and appreciated the power and the knowledge
of the Catholic Church concerning matters of witchcraft and the witches’ devotion to evil.  The Church was not unaware of Rosalia’s evil activities, 
but they were confined presently to a local area and were not of a larger regional nature—at least for the time being.

With this in mind and being so informed of the Church, and with the power and influence of the Dark One, Rosalia continued her ruthless, evil crimes
and her heartless, blasphemous activities during periodic nocturnal visits 
in bucolic villages in the Harz countryside.

It was during these so-called “evening activities” that Rosalia’s dark-side mask, that is, her true witch’s countenance shone through and presented her ghastly Gorgon-grimaced face to her chosen victims—men, women, children—with no quarter given. This was Rosalia’s true self, her “evening mask,” but yet her true self.

Yet while during the day, as part of a masterful chameleon-like deception,
Rosalia would appear to unsuspecting people in her “daytime mask”
as a beautiful and charming blonde-haired, blue-eyed lady of young adult age, with a kind and genial spirit who worked in a local Inn in a village close to the Brocken. This was Rosalia’s perfect cover for plotting and conducting 
her wicked and unholy activities.

Rosalia naturally commanded the insatiable power of the black arts
which allowed her to maintain her “normal appearance” for as long as she chose—and yet, she could summon her real dark appearance on a moment’s notice, but preferred the night when her dark-side powers were at their greatest pitch, whereby she could command whatever hell-spawned demons or earthly elements she needed to help and support her evil intentions and deeds.

With the daily reality of this “perfect deception,” Rosalia, with her coven of disciples, could strike with impunity throughout the numerous villages in the Harz countryside, consummating their evil intentions and horrible deeds 
in the name of God’s fallen angel.

Rosalia’s goal was to deceive, corrupt and destroy the eternal souls of as many men, women, and children as possible, while ensuring the maturation and permanence of her power, and the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.

Who could ever imagine that a young beautiful blonde lady who innocently worked in a local village Inn could be one of vilest black spirits in the history of witchcraft?

Could Rosalia and her hell-spawned soulless minions be stopped and brought to justice for their terrible actions and deeds?  

Who would dare challenge Rosalia’s power and the evil she sought to inflict on mankind?

End of Part Three

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


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Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Four

Rosalia - The Evil Witch of the Harz, Part Four

Rosalia’s Date with Destiny and the Power of Light and Goodness
It is said that the Almighty Lord God works in very mysterious ways . . . 
meaning that even an all-powerful witch like Rosalia had her Achilles’ heel, and could lose her sheen of invincibility in certain instances which date back to the earliest clashes between Good and Evil at the outset of mankind.

With her perfect cover working in a local village Inn near the Brocken, Rosalia could plan, plot and scheme her witchcraft activities at will 
when meeting unsuspecting villagers and outside visitors alike—
giving her near-unlimited control in shaping the very course of events.
Fate would have it, however, that one event would challenge and alter Rosalia’s perfect cover forever . . . 

One day a young girl—named Aurelia, who was barely 15 years old,
visited local village relatives while traveling near the Brocken.
Aurelia, who was quite intelligent and mature for her age was also a 
close relative of the regional church Monseigneur, Wolfgang Augustus Hardenberg, and she was part of a traditional German catholic family. 

Aurelia was a rare child indeed, endowed with “Heavenly Eyes”
from her eternal soul at birth which gave her a unique, unusual gift 
of sensing and seeing the true nature of the men, women, and children
as they came into contact with her . . . without them realizing it. 

Aurelia, with this fantastic gift, was truly one of God’s children,
and the antithesis of Rosalia and the incarnate evil she represented.
Aurelia’s family was fully aware of God’s favor on their daughter
and all of the goodness and light she shared with them in the family.

Aurelia was also quick study; she was endowed with an unusual ability to absorb, understand and remember vast amounts of information and detail.
And while attending religious schools, she demonstrated an exceptional proclivity early on for learning and mastering classical foreign languages. 

Aurelia too was a centuries’ old soul like Rosalia, but whereas Rosalia embraced the Dark Side, and was the very manifestation of evil and debauchery; 
Aurelia embraced the Light and Goodness of the Almighty,
and was one of God’s angelic souls destined to do his bidding in the continuous titanic struggle against Lucifer and his Dark World minions;
she was truly a “Princess of the Light” and a “Precious Child of God.”   

With this in mind . . .
On visiting the local village Inn with relatives one afternoon for lunch,
Aurelia immediately felt the presence of a specter of evil and foreboding.
And this specter was, of course, none other than . . . Rosalia.
Beyond her perceptible sensing and feeling of pure evil,
Aurelia was able to make momentary visual contact with Rosalia,
and with her God-given heavenly vision glanced the true image of Rosalia,
which filled her at once with undeniable dread, fright and revulsion
at the terrible visage cast by Rosalia among her unsuspecting relatives.

Aurelia was in luck since Rosalia felt no reason to suspect her, thus paying no attention to the young girl with her relatives.

Aurelia’s God-given power shielded her from Rosalia’s attention,
at least for now . . .  
From the encounter at the village Inn, Aurelia knew that some of her relatives were already marked by the witch.

After the visit to the Inn, Aurelia immediately informed her unsuspecting parents of the evil incarnate she sensed and discovered at the Inn.

Time was fleeting and quick action would be required to corroborate this event. It was already Monday, and on the upcoming Saturday, which was All Hallows’ Eve on October 31st, Rosalia’s Coven was set to conduct The Black Witches’ Sabbath in celebration of the Devil himself. This evil Sabbath event was done twice a year with the one preceding All Hallows’ Eve occurring on April 30th on the Great Sabbath of Walpurgis Nacht.

The preparation of the Black Witches’ Sabbath would include black rituals and both human and animal sacrifices with the invocation of the Vespers’ Prayer Preparation for Black Mass, followed by a 24-hour period of preparation by the Coven for its next attack on the local villagers.

Riding horseback to the Cloister Marten in the Harz some 20 kilometers away, Aurelia’s father traveled there with two close trusted friends to inform Monseigneur Hardenberg of Aurelia’s unexpected discovery of the infamous and evil Black Witch of the Harz known as Rosalia. 

On hearing of the discovery of Rosalia and her masquerade in human form,
the Monseigneur instinctively knew that immediate action was required, 
and that the very lives of the villagers and their eternal souls were in the greatest of peril.

An immediate meeting with his council of priests at Cloister Marten was in order; there was now a chance that Rosalia and her Coven could be finally 
destroyed forever. This chance event had been a long time coming and the Monseigneur knew that they must not fail.

The Monseigneur also knew that God’s avengers must act smartly . . .
Rosalia was a virulent evil force not to be taken lightly nor underestimated.
Many priests and their parishioners had already succumbed to the Devil 
and his Dark World of eternal damnation, courtesy of Rosalia.

The Monseigneur would need Aurelia’s help in finding Rosalia’s Coven,
and he realized that he and his priests must prepare for the greatest test of their faith, as they contemplated their plan to destroy Rosalia and her spawn of evil.

The Monseigneur understood all too well that to face down Rosalia was almost the same as facing the very Devil himself.

The Monseigneur and his priests must be swift in their vengeance against Rosalia in the name of the Lord, and that a second chance may not be in the offing.

End of Part Four

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Six

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Six

Archangel Gabriel and His Force of Heavenly Angels
Upon seeing the radiant, almost blinding light as it lit up even the darkest corners of the forested area, Monseigneur Hardenberg and his party dropped to their knees and in earnest prayer thanked the Lord God for making his presence known to them.

In the distance, the search party could see a large group of light beings with halos. Aurelia’s sensing proved correct. This was the Archangel Gabriel with his trusted group of angels. Perceptively now, Aurelia could both sense and see the entrance to Rosalia’s cave beyond a thick grouping of trees in a small clearing. Archangel Gabriel was pointing the way to them to the cave.

Once more, Aurelia also knew now that Rosalia, despite her vaunted powers of darkness, was actually clueless to the arrival of the angels in the vicinity of her lair. Under God’s power, Archangel Gabriel was shielding and protecting Monseigneur Hardenberg’s search party from detection by Rosalia and her witches.

As it turned out, the search party was there in reality to help and assist the angels as they could when people who were prisoners of Rosalia were freed from her control. The real battle though that was commencing was at the heavenly level now. Archangel Gabriel with his angelic group descended quickly now into the cave immediately followed by Aurelia and Monseigneur Hardenberg and his group . . . The element of surprise was theirs. 

It was now after 6:00 pm and the final preparation for the Black Mass celebration for the Black Witches’ Sabbath to occur at midnight was underway. The key was for the angels to strike decisively before the appearance of Lucifer at midnight.  If they had to confront Lucifer directly, Archangel Gabriel knew he needed God’s direct intervention.

The full force and radiance of the angelic heavenly light permeated the deepest and darkest reaches of Rosalia’s cavern. The witches and the lost soul minions of Rosalia were totally surprised by the sheer light and power of the angelic force. Those who fought and resisted—and there were many—were immediate destroyed. There was still a small grouping of Rosalia’s witches and vassals remaining that immediately surrendered to the superior force of angels and the supreme will of the Almighty Lord God. The surrendering group pleaded for mercy and begged forgiveness and recanted their allegiance to both Rosalia and Lucifer—and then turned to the Almighty Lord God for their ultimate salvation.  It was indeed a truly remarkable sight to behold.  

In the confusion which ensued following the success of the angelic invasion and the demonic capitulation, Rosalia was nowhere to be found. It looked as though she had literally vanished from the face of the Earth. But this proved to be not the case. During the moment of surprise when the angels attacked her dark forces, Rosalia was caught completely off guard and for a moment froze in fear and indecision.  A real first for her. For the very first time, her ability to summon the forces of evil was not possible for her. Her only way out was to turn herself into a Black Cat, a favored creature of hers.

Rosalia’s deception did not last long.  Aurelia alerted everyone to the evil presence of the Black Cat. She knew at once that the Black Cat was indeed Rosalia. The deception was up.  For once, Rosalia could no longer hide. And it looked like even Lucifer had forsaken his prized favored witch and mistress.  Perhaps this could be his punishment for her failure to effect the ritual of the Black Mass as planned and the important celebration of the Black Witches’ Sabbath.  

In the Lord God’s name, and by all of His Power and His Glory, Archangel Gabriel stripped Rosalia of all her magical and other worldly evil powers, to include her spirit of immortality.  With this done, she was now a very old mortal women who looked both disheveled and haggard, but was still quite hideous to look upon by all concerned. Rosalia was released to Monseigneur Hardenberg and his priests for confinement, trial, and eventual execution. 

End of Part Six

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Two

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Two

Rosalia’s Instruments of Evil and Debauchery
Rosalia needed certain tools or instruments of evil and debauchery to successfully pursue her nefandous plans of bringing the people of the Harz countryside under the dominion and control of the Devil. The following instruments could be construed as weapons in and of themselves and were integral to Rosalia’s practice of Witchcraft and Sorcery, and were central to her fervent desire of accomplishing this dastardly goal as she actively sought to corrupt and destroy the souls of her victims. Her bright gems of evil and debauchery included:
 
Necromancy  
As Rosalia expanded her power, control, and influence among the people she became involved in Necromancy, that is to say, the art of predicting events by communicating with the dead. She would use her channeling efforts to enter the spirit world, and in an act of true malevolence, would prompt her spirit contacts to conjure evil dreams and have them pervade the consciousness of her unsuspecting victims. She would, at times, summon Lucifer himself in the midst of all of this to directly maximize her channeling efforts.      

Moleosophy and Wartology  
Rosalia had mastery of the arcane art of Moleosophy and Wartology, whereby she could divine the temperament of people and surrounding future events by spiritually sensing and reading the moles and warts on men and women in a stream of consciousness. Beyond this divining and sensing aspect, this power was also amply reflected in the use of her Black Wart and the use of its bile liquid contents to inflict irreparable harm on her victims and engender absolute fear.

Witch’s Broom  
Rosalia had a Witch’s Broom, serving as her primary mode of transportation for traversing the Harz and for frightening and wreaking utter havoc on her unsuspecting victims.

Black Hen’s Blood
Rosalia used a Black Hen’s Blood gruesomely obtained by beating a black hen to death, and then smearing a small portion of the blood on her human victim or the victim’s clothing— in effect, to transfer the agony of the hen’s death to her intended victim. 

Magic Wand
The Magic Wand made of hazel is another invaluable weapon used by Rosalia as an instrument of indomitable evil force and power as personified in its likeness as a phallic symbol.  Rosalia’s mastery of her Magic Wand enabled her to instinctively react in casting black magic spells on her victims and conjuring an aura of evil spirits to plague and ultimately destroy her victims’ families.

Black Potions
Rosalia brewed alchemic poisonous potions to a horrifying hideous effect,
using them to startle, stun and paralyze her victims with unending fear
while unmercifully taunting and tormenting them with equal evil effect,
and using Witchcraft to destroy once innocent souls and harvest fear.
Rosalia employed her alchemic masterpieces to great effect in gaining control of her victims’ will or desire to resist her evil intentions. Rosalia sometimes used her Black Potions to immediately subdue and poison to death victims who had insulted her and driven her anger to an insatiable lust and frenzy.

Witch’s Dagger   
Rosalia’s Athamé was her special coal-black-colored ceremonial dagger, of course, with a double-edged blade, but in her instance totally black to include the actual blade itself, with the sign of the Pentagram firmly engrained into the dagger’s handle. This was Rosalia’s magical dagger, her tool which she used for ritual black mass ceremonies and to direct psychic energy and to even exact both torture and murder—beyond the normal expected use of such a dagger in a witchcraft ceremony.  

Black Cat   
Whereas a vampire has the power to command his or her “Children of the Night,” and to take the form of a wolf or a bat, similarly, Rosalia could transmute her human form and soul appearance into that of a Black Cat, or on occasion, into that of a White Cat to better mask her nefarious activities and evil intentions.

Black Witches’ Sabbath
Given her power and authority from the Dark One (or Satan himself), Rosalia was so anointed to conduct a Black Witches’ Sabbath two times a year:  April 30th on the Great Sabbath of Walpurgis Nacht and October 31st with Halloween (All Hallows’ Eve). These were the events during which Rosalia summoned the “Goat of Mendes” by which Satan would appear in physical form as a goat or a ram. Rosalia used these special witch coven gatherings on Walpurgis Nacht and Halloween as defining events by which she would give over the souls of her trusted disciples to Satan. She would also recommit her blasphemous Faustian eternal allegiance to the Dark One made over centuries before when she existed in other evil reincarnated soul being forms before becoming Rosalia.

Black Mass 
Intoning, in a shrill repetitive manner six times:  Rosalia recited the Satanist Prayer (Our Father, which wert in Heaven . . .) during monthly Black Mass celebrations and the Black Witches’ Sabbath with her Coven. Rosalia used the transformative power of these events to further energize her disciples and to call directly on Satan to inform him of her evil activities and seek his continued influence and support for her acts of terror, torture, and debauchery—all in his name. Tragically, all of Rosalia’s disciples were lost souls and faced eternal damnation because of their continued association with her.  At the end of the Black Mass rituals all of Rosalia’s disciples were left in a state of unfettered “Humicubation,” whereby they lay on the ground in a state of submission and penitence to her for ever having worshipped the Lord God.

End of Part Two

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Five

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Five

The Monseigneur knew that they must be successful in this venture as the “Lord’s Madmen” or face the very real possibility of eternal damnation, if they should fail. They had no choice but to risk all in this endeavor. To do nothing and to retreat back to the safe confines of the monastery would consign innocent men, women, and children to a fate worse than death itself—they would be in the hands of the Devil forever.  

God’s Reckoning and Vengeance and the Planned Destruction of Rosalia
Arriving at the village below the Brocken by the early hours on Friday morning, October 30th, the Monseigneur and his priests met with Aurelia and her parents in a chamber room near the alter of the local village church under a marble cast visage of Jesus Christ himself.

They had the rest of the day on Friday and a partial day Saturday, October 31st until 6:00 pm to ready themselves for an all-out assault on Rosalia’s Coven in a deep cave located some 100 meters down from the Brocken summit. Being able to actually find Rosalia’s cave in time was a momentous task unto itself—and might even require divine intervention. Rosalia would quite assuredly conceal and mask its entrance to the uttermost.  

The risk of discovery of their planning efforts by Rosalia and her Coven was now greater than ever.

It was now time for Aurelia to invoke her direct prayer to the Lord,
to seek His blessing and His protection for everyone involved in supporting
the Monseigneur’s efforts in discovering the location of Rosalia’s Coven,
and for ensuring the triumph of the power of light and goodness. 

Aurelia kneeling before the church altar began her prayer to the Lord:

To our Almighty and Most Merciful Lord God, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost . . . 
It is with the greatest of humility and respect that we beseech thy support
in confronting and destroying the Black Witch Rosalia and her Hell Spawn
Minions who serve thy fallen angel known as “Lucifer.”

Oh Lord please hear us in this hour of maximum danger, as the very lives and the very souls of many innocent people are at stake in this great  struggle between good and evil which has been with mankind since Adam and Eve walked the face of the Earth.

We are, Oh Lord, very aware of the immense burdens you carry in the Universe and that mankind is only one of your many divine creations.  
Mankind, after all, was created in thine image. An enormous challenge awaits us from the forces of darkness and pure evil here on Earth in the Harz.  In the name of Jesus Christ—your only son, we earnestly pray for your divine intervention and timely guidance as we must soon confront Rosalia and her minions of evil who worship only Lucifer and the world of darkness at his command.

We thank you for listening to our prayer of urgent need Most Merciful Lord God.  Although our group of church followers will soon be walking through the shadow of night and the valley of death itself, we know that Thou Shall Be With Us, and will give us thine power and strength in overcoming and destroying the forces of evil and darkness.  

AMEN . . . AMEN . . . AMEN, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

Aurelia’s Prayer to God is Answered
At the conclusion of Aurelia’s prayer, Monseigneur Hardenberg and his group of priests met with some trusted local villagers who knew the landscape around the Brocken summit very well. Aurelia had asked to be part of the Monseigneur’s group. Although a young girl, she was a very special young girl, and given the circumstances in spite of the risks the group needed all the help it could find. Aurelia’s help was invaluable. 

The key action was to get the search process underway soonest to find an aperture in and around the Brocken that might yield the entrance to Rosalia’s lair. It was already late Friday morning and the search must commence immediately after the Monseigneur and his party had a chance to rest awhile, for by 6:00 pm on Saturday, the powers of darkness would begin gathering and massing an unconscionable strength and fury as the six-hour countdown to the Black Witches’ Sabbath ceremony would be underway.

Next, by Friday afternoon the Monseigneur and his party journeyed to the vicinity of the Brocken summit and began their concerted search for Rosalia’s cave.

Searching well into the night and into the wee hours of the morning on October 31st—to no avail—the mounting frustration and the growing sense of expectation among the group was both palpable and undeniable. By around 5:30 pm, the search turned into a scene of utter desperation. There was very good chance that they might not find the hidden entrance to Rosalia’s lair in time to disrupt the Black Witches’ Sabbath ceremony. Aurelia could sense the closeness of Rosalia, but even she was helpless to precisely pinpoint the location of the cave.

Aurelia knew instinctively that she had to act. Finding Monseigneur Hardenberg she told him that another prayer to the Almighty Lord God might improve their chances of finding the cave in time to act. And almost instantaneous to their brief discussion, a very large bright light suddenly illuminated itself on the immediate horizon in the deep forested area. As dusk was falling, this radiance of this bright heavenly light was at once as telling as it was compelling. Aurelia knew at that instant mirabile visu that her prayer to God had been answered and that divine intervention was truly at hand.    

End of Part Five

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Rhyme | |

Whistling Past A Graveyard

whistling past a graveyard Devil may care, but I have no regard I walk among granite tombstones six feet below are boxes full of bones I find myself in a dark, dark room only to realize it's a witch's tomb gravedigger has bodies to retrieve on this night, Saint Hollow's Eve


Details | Free verse | |

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

Behold did an old realty sign stand, in the front yard of an old
Dilapidated house.
It whispered to me, in silences, hushed undertones,
Calling my name ever so softly, drawing me towards it.
Through barred windows, down emptied halls, an eerie voice,
Seemed to beckon unto me, unaware an evil dwelt here, beneath
The blistered paint and weather beaten sills.
A chilling deja vu feeling, grasps at me, I'm frozen in its gripping
Spell, the malevolent presences sings sweetly, seamlessly,
Attaching our identities as one being united.
Realizations truth comes too late, my fate is sealed, and here I'm never alone,
Its loneliness shall ease mine, a mutual comforting takes place,
Between shared pains of sorrows betrayed.
Covering my nightmares haunting ritual, is darkness’s blackened shroud,
In terrors demonic illusion, behold a celebration's ceremonial vows are spoken,
Echoing till death do we part my love, for thine art mine eternally?
A forbidding unity consumes this it's innocent victim, I'm suddenly awoken
From enchantment's curse and I am trapped in this ethereal limbo.
A mortifying laughter lashes out, ridiculing mocking at my weeping,
Heckling, against mortars crumbling domain, I'm lost unto thee mine,
Phantom mistress.
In deaths ushering dawn, I'll remain a spiritual entity longing to be free.
Trapped eternally by her, between life and death bound in solitude.
Praying for infinities final rest, pleading God's divine intervention,
And begging for mercy's release, but it replies, "You now belong to me always."

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Narrative | |

The Old Man

Up on a hill there was an old house and in it lived Abigail, a young lady without a spouse. One day her doorbell rang and she went to the door. There stood an old man, his head to the floor. He appeared scared and weak so she let him come in, for if she didn’t it’d be a sure sin. The old man smiled and gave his thanks, and she said, “Not to worry, there’s no need to thank.” Abigail and the elder talked for quite a long time. Sharing story after story, and soon drinking wine. The two became very good friends and laughed, and laughed ‘til night came to end. When the next day dawned, they went for a walk, down at the pond they decided to stop. It was frigid and misty, but they enjoyed the stroll because their friendship was warmer than the wind’s dreadful cold. As they stood in front of the calm, cool pond, Abigail asked, “Where do you come from?” The old man laughed a deep, dark laugh, “I come from the boneyard, the place of last breaths. I am the man, which many name Death.” The creeping old man then pulled out a knife and slashed Abigail’s throat before she could fright. Her life left instantly, her body grew cold, and the elder’s smile sparkled like gold. The pond was hungry and the old man knew that Abigail’s corpse would have to go soon. He tied a brick to both of her feet and tossed her away into the deep. As her body sunk into the watery blue, the elder stood there and felt renewed. Back on the trail the aged man went. Not a worry in mind, no remorse ever meant. He did what had to be done, to the grave his soul belonged. The elder approached another ol’ house. He rang the doorbell and waited, innocent as a mouse.


Details | Villanelle | |

Deadly Raven

Sitting atop the old decaying tree Is a deadly raven quite pathetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see An unsuspecting group thinks they are free Raven thinks of a move that’s genetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree No-one knows what it’s like to truly be One of this group, death is just magnetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see Down he swoops taking one soul completely Returns to tree, looking quite poetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree The raven smiles as he caws wickedly Soul collecting might be more aesthetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see The raven flies high looking lustfully All that he’s collected that’s prophetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree Where his lusting eyes do more than just see
Russell Sivey


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Nightmare on Elm street

            "My college try at 'You're in a Horror film "


               something has taken over his spirit
                I do think I'll be his next ...

                The land line rings , I answer Hello ? a response with crackling voice.
               " Do you remember me , I am an old friend ? "

                Who is this ? I respond noticing the rain falling hard ..
                a sketchy voice response..

                I am here , can't you see me? 

                "is this a sick Joke ? as I grab a knife for protection"
                I'm calling the police ! This is Harassment ! 

                " The police are here ' ....'in a psychotic response 

                The lights go out , the lightning from the storm has
               hit a tree, I am scarred now, looking for all candles to light my way

                A loud Knock !  Again a knock , I  slam the phone down , fearfully
                 lock the door fast, yet trembling. It's as if someone is breathing 
                 a cold breath with a long finger nail running down my back ..
 
                Knock Knock again , I look out the peep hole, it is the police !
                 Opening the door , The Policeman says " We are checking to see
                 if you are Ok ? You need to let me in and stand behind me "

                  The policeman calls for backup to Elm Street .
                " Someone said they saw a tall man with a mask and knife enter
                 your basement , The storm has blown out the electricity, lines are down "
               
                Grabbing the cordless, I respond " someone just called , scarring me! "
              
               That is not possible , these lines have been down for hours , the person 
                 driving by called prescient on a cell. 
                             

                    I try to get a line and the phone is dead ....

                 The policeman is searching the home with a flashlight .
                  As he goes into the Kitchen I see a large knife in his Back shirt ,
                  Now he is laughing ..the phone rings ..

                 
                 
                         'you're in a Horror movie contest '      
                 
                


Details | Italian Sonnet | |

Evil Basks

It’s a dimly lit, darkly entombed spot Here sits a lone black weeping willow tree Night encroached leaving nothing you can see Its cold, nothing about this place is hot Not a ray of light surrounds to get caught Evil basks within the nooks quite empty She sits, there on a stump she sits flatly Devoid of emotion, hope isn’t brought Expressionless she stands with great power The tree bows right to her beck and call She stands mighty and tall like a tower Grove seems to be protected by a wall All who happen to see her would cower All she sees is hate, her soul crushes all * Left over Halloween poem, I forgot to post this, enjoy! Russell Sivey


Details | Haiku | |

"Halloween Babes"

“Halloween Babes”

Innocent Angels
Prowl darken streets, seek sweet treats
Human evil seeks…

This pure Love of heart
Unaware what evil lurks
In human dark souls…

Just another child
Bites the dust of human lust’s
Illusions of ghouls…

For Contest: Halloween Haiku
In Honor of : Linda-Marie Sweetheart of P.S.


Details | Free verse | |

THE HAUNTING

Entombed behind isolation walled
 Prison,
A haunting malice trapped me within.
Crouching beneath shadows shroud,
 Leering eyes pierce.
Through darkness’s pitch black,
 Covenant.
Pacing beast intercepting motions,
 Movements, mocking my,
Feeble attempts to evade frenzy's,
 Tormentor.
Deceptions deceiver, silver tongued, 
Weaver, spewing lies deceit.
Intricately aligning it's widow,
 Makers webbing,
Feasting on innocence betrayal.
Heckling, laughter echoes, against,
 Dead reckoning.
A chilling appetizing, as if pleased,
 At malice’s intent.
Fiendishly, delighting in torturing,
It’s human pet.
A vacant mumbling feeling over,
 Comes reasoning,
A deeper anger begins to rage,
Rebelling against hatred’s,
Horrifying entity.
Motivated to survive beyond spectral,
 Captivity.
Hear my disgust, creature,
 I shall destroy thee.
Leave me alone, screaming aloud,
 Sanity's domain gives way.
In musty halls empty hollows,
 An odorous stench.
Fills mine senses,
Cease mortal miscreant,
 None leave here alive,
Shudders blood runs cold down raw
 Veins nerve endings,
A deepening realizations rushes,
 The conscious mind,
I'm deaths play thing.
To be pounced upon, a toy mouse,
 Caught between claws,
Extracting, retracting at whims invoking.
Invisible hands grasp choking life's,
 Breath away.
Feeling every heartbeat slowing,
 Quietly ceasing.
Stinging painfully ringing at ear, 
Shots quivering,
Oblivion's mute murmurs never part,
Lips tightly closed.
Let mercy's fallen be forgiven,
 Released from,
Beyond hells hidden regions,
A place devoid of spiritual salvation.
Foul demonic spirit haunting,
 A madman's kingdom,
It whispers to me in sweet melodies,
 Aftershock.
Now we begin, and you truly belong to me,
With satisfactions grimace, it smiles.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Quatrain | |

Witch's Brew

Her jack-o-lanterns flicker in the room Bringing that eerie feel to those who look The witch cackles as she stirs her cauldron An evil brew which inside looks like gook The smell is terrible, she laughs with glee She knows what this potion can surely bring A curse to an entire town that shunned her She’ll make each and every one of them sing She clips a few hairs off of her black cat Puts them into the boiling concoction She zaps a flying bat, takes out its eyes She makes it complete, spits in the potion With an evil laugh she gets up and pours Takes the brew and places it into vials Knowing that each person in the whole town Will suffer with pains and lots of trials
Russell Sivey


Details | Free verse | |

The Girl

She was very beautiful;
she looked like a goddess.

Her eyes were emerald,
lips were red and sweet;
but her shadow was absent!
her image was absent in the mirror!

Not many people who knew the REAL her,
except for her victims who turned out to be 
like her; immortal at the expense of warm, fresh human blood.

Her heart pulsated in excitement,
as her fangs sunk into a man's neck;
a man who had fallen trap to her sensual nature.

A beautiful girl she was,
but her past so dark, such that the darkness' texture could be felt!


Details | Rhyme | |

Black Witch

Born and raised as a little child in a Witches’ coven,
the Black Witch was indeed a very precocious child
whose hell-spawned soul was seared in Hell’s oven,
and like Medusa herself was a creature gone wild.

The Black Witch had a craggy, malevolent demeanor
and at a glance was stark, sinister, menacing and unholy, 
with jet black snake-like hair making her even meaner;
she was a reincarnated spirit dispelling all things good and holy.

The Black Witch was imbued with uncanny, unearthly powers
and had dark probing eyes and exceptional sensory perception,
and a bulbous, bile-ridden black wart was prominent among her powers,
and protruded close to the tip of her nose from the time of her conception.

She used the bile, putrid liquid extracted from her black wart to capture
and poison and corrupt the life essence of her victims—if they resisted;
she acutely honed her pagan skills in the Black Arts to the highest rapture
while using her Gorgon-grimaced face to strike fear in all who resisted.

As the most favored disciple and mistress of the Dark One,
the Black Witch possessed a withering and wicked mesmerizing gaze
used masterfully to corrupt and control souls for the Dark One,
dooming her victims forever to a land with an impenetrable haze.
	
The Black Witch brewed alchemic poisonous potions to a hideous effect,
using them to startle, stun and paralyze her victims with unending fear
while unmercifully taunting and tormenting them with equal evil effect,
using Witchcraft to destroy once innocent souls and harvest fear.

Intoning “Our Father, which wert in Heaven,” the Black Witch
began her Black Mass sessions with spirited evil and debauchery,
conjuring terrifying dreams and consigning victims to a black pitch
all the while laughing and reveling in all the evil and debauchery.

The Black Witch delighted in being “The Devil’s Concubine” by name,
for her liaisons with Lucifer made her omnipotent and devoutly unholy.
Her unbridled sense of power and invincibility was the Black Witch’s aim,
for this fed her conviction to do vicious and evil things—to be unholy.

To know the Black Witch was to realize a gorgonesque damnation forever 
while she pursued the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.
The Black Witch was granted the power of all hell-spawned demons forever
to support and consummate her unholy activities in the name of Lucifer.


Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(August 19, 2014)


Details | Free verse | |

A Halloween story

One dark and dreary night many, many moons ago
myself and a friend coming home from the local disco
no names mentioned smiling . . .
and in the far distance we could see and hear three girls
laughing and giggling and having fun 

This was Halloween Night or All Hallows' Eve . . .
and so we climbed up the nearest evergreen 
barely breathing, holding our breaths . . .
so they would not hear us and sense our presence
the one directly in the middle as they neared us
in passing a quick clip at the back of the head said 
do you want to hear the screams roaring out of
them away hammer and tongs up the road

We could hear them shouting and carrying on . . .
I'm sure that place is haunted
to this day they tell their story claiming it to be real
well better still was to come for both of us 
laughing our hearts out giggling like madmen
 
I felt like a gruesome hand of ice just touched me . . .  
the tremors ran down my spine
jolting me in a most terrible way
almost felt like a gripping sensation on my shoulder 
almost falling of the tree with a roar
 
My good friend starting screaming making it worse . . . 
saying somebody must of touched us the same time
we looked at each other and made a race to get home 
just got really spooked and ran the whole 3 miles home 
in a record time ever saying my holy prayers every stroll of the way . . .
a most hideous and macabre thought -- a ghost touched me 
as the cold ran right through me chilling me to the bone
never was I as glad to see holy water in the house 
I bless myself for being lucky  
never ever have I pulled such a prank 
from that night to this . . .
 
It backfired on us so we chose never to say
a word about it ever again!!
And now we can only say: BOO!! BOO!! BOO!!
And Happy Halloween!!
 
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman, Free Verse Collaboration (October 13, 2014)
(Contest Entry for Halloween Co-Writes, 5 Nov 14, Diane Locksley - Sponsor)


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

THE MONTH OF OCTOBER

THE MONTH OF OCTOBER In character, the caricature was a creepy fiend. It has long nails and fangs. It comes in appearance during Halloween. The month of October starts with ghostly chimes that wind blows seven times. Therein, you will see seven black cats with fourteen shining. Mid-month is here and October begins to caste its spell. The satirized spirit has rose and everyone remains in doors until the day after. Three weeks have past and the Town is compelled to enter their heinous traditions. They worship the Demonic God and prepare for their ritual of cannibalism. Upon the fourth week of October, anthropophagites have found their feast and they begin to seek. Halloween is now three days away. Flesh eaters walked and swayed within an impoverished home and once done, it is a house of bones. Halloween has come and the Town’s expectations have launch to the last lost soul before the clock ticks midnight in this dark world. This institution occurs every two-hundred years. Halloween is something to fear. Insofar, the Town's occupants must beware and prepare for the worst each year. ________________________________________________| Penned October 29, 2014!


Details | Free verse | |

IN THE WOODS

Stretching at the very heavens are the braches of autumn,
It is becoming the season of death, and mother natures promise
Of rebirth is with drawing, leaving nothing behind but stilled
 Whispering echoes.
The very ground itself grows fidgeted, as winters icy finger tips
Strangle at earths raw under belly, finally it yields to the pains
Agony and nature lies slain, forced into hibernation’s sleep, until
Spring breath will awaken it at last, with resurrection’s sweet kiss of life
Once more.
A screeching black raven clings to the darkening skies, one by one do
These harvengers of death land atop the trees icy prongs that bend and
Brake beneath their feather weight of distain.
Dark eyed demons ever watching, waiting unto the night takes passion
Of this world of the living, these sentinels of the demonic peck, and strike
At one another with anticipations things to come by night.
A stilled silence blankets the forest; nothing stirs except the creaking of
The ice in a near by stream, on the path a sobering wind rustles at the deadened
Leaves that crackle in the fall breeze.
It so creeps forward the feeling of uneasiness, the soft breath blowing against
The back neck hairs of humanity, a lumbering heaviness boggs down the air itself,
Almost choking the life from all living things in the surrounding venue.
Excited the black birds take winged flight, soaring screeching, announcing it
Comes, it comes!!
Shuttering nature pulls its white snow covering over its very head, she even
Wishes not to see, this true face of evil that cometh forward, the ethereal trap
Door has been triggered, and what elopes onwards cannot be stopped by 
Any powers on earth.
Blow does the trumpets of heaven, angels take to the winds of destiny, beckoning
The evil to with draw, but it mocks at them, screaming in a howling’s rebuking,
I listen not to the likes of thee!!
Then a light unseen for many a millennium comes forward, it is the light of 
Everlasting salvation, then creature of darkness shall thee do battle with me,
Nay I will with draw, backwards from winnest it came it vaporizes and disappears.
In the woods there is a path, never to crossed by humanity, their thou shall not
Step, for the essence of evil’s cold chill still lingers, in the autumn chilling wind.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN



Details | Quatrain | |

Orange to Purple Night

The sky has a glow, a hue of orange That leads to the joy of jack-o-lanterns Bats do fly through the air looking for food And lights in the house come from small lanterns Vampires prowl tonight as mere creatures do Moon begins to rise by the edge of night Looking orange as any other glow Right before nightfall there is little light The witch approaches the graveyard gateway Carrying her cauldron with her laughing Knowing that this night has special powers She looks for spiders that do the eating A pile of spiders find their way on her She puts them inside her boiling cauldron Magically her potion comes into view She uses this drink to bring a demon The beautiful creature goes with the witch Into the night looking for some poor sap To mess up his life completely before Ruining all that he has this poor chap The night starts to lose its bright orange look Now is replaced with a deep purple glow Color enhances this festive Halloween The witch and the demon bring their own show
Russell Sivey


Details | Free verse | |

The Mist

It swallows everything in its path,
even man's breath! As it slowly moving along the streets,
only mourns and screams you hear; deaths happen 
during victim's broad vision. Survivors of the traumatic ordeals
claim that fading, whitish figures tear flesh with their long,
crooked nails; in some cases they slit victims' throats - the slitting
has an eerie, audible voice. Until now, exorcists and mediums avoid
this town.....  


Details | Couplet | |

Scary Moments

Something’s lurking in the shadows. Something’s hiding in the dark.
Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something out there wants to get me! I am losing my sang-froid.
Something wants to disappear me. I’m not being paranoid!
 
I used to have a neighbor woman--We cannot find her anywhere.
When I called for some patrolmen.  They did not show ‘cause they don’t dare!
Something outside isn’t human-- or at least not anymore.
A cannibal or psycho axeman, or just a clown covered with gore.

I’ve got the willies something fierce. Those shivers just won’t go away.
I’m not ready for the hearse. Too scared to run…too scared to stay.
Someone’s walked over my tomb, or given me the evil eye.
Something’s out there in costume--Trick or treat, it’s time to die!

Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something’s lurking in the shadows.  Something’s waiting in the dark.


Details | Acrostic | |

Halloween Costume Ball

Hairy eyeballs hanging from a wizard’s crown.
Arachnids sprawled on his black sparkling gown.
Ludicrous marks scar his face beneath a frown.
Luscious blood dripping very slowly down.
Opulent jewelry shaped like bones.
Worn around his neck amid creepy groans.
Ecstatic bats wait around for deadly moans.
Eerily suspended from their master’s belt.
Nonchalantly walking, his evil presence is felt.
 
Coming down the stairs was a star bejeweled queen.
Overcome; such beauty he had never before seen. 
Stunned into submission by her piercing eyes.
Trapped by love’s intrusion and compassion’s cries.
Unveiling beauty, cajoling pleasant sighs.
Miraculously transformed his evil heart; love flows.
Enticed by the moment, together, attraction grows.

Bedazzled by the grandeur of the Halloween Ball
Altruism curiously sealed love that fall.
Laughter filled the man with the eyeballs on his crown.
Loved by the queen in her star bejeweled gown.

© October 15, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen


Details | Quatrain | |

Pumpkin Head Scarecrow

Dark clouds trying to cover the full moon Creates an eerie feeling all throughout An old farmhouse sits upon the great height And haystacks sit down the hill and about This is where the great fearsome scarecrow sits Awaiting strangers that may come to view Ravens fly about his glowing pumpkin head Evil face exudes what it wants to do When you come face to face with this scarecrow Your days will sure come to an abrupt end A scythe he carries he surely will use And the ravens will take your soul to send Owner of the farmhouse won’t mess with him For the fear of death that’s within his bones He works around him during daylight hours Avoids him in the night within his zones Scarecrow has more power in the full moon And his alluring calls just isn’t right The great pumpkin head scarecrow glows fiercely He rules the dark fields, prowling in the night
Russell Sivey


Details | Rhyme | |

Black Cat Green Eyes Most Evil

Black Cat hath the coldest green eyes of most hideous evil
Which chilleth my blood, causeth me the greatest upheaval;
Darkness doth pervade this creature’s most gruesome gaze
Giveth me unbridled terror, leaveth my soul in an utter haze; 
Lucifer himself giveth this black demon animal its dark life
Only to bringeth me a terrifying malediction of most evil strife;
Black Cat with its visage and its promise of eternal damnation
Seeketh for me its vilest of intention and its darkest tarnation; 
I prayeth then Lord God, saveth all my eternal spirit and soul
And delivereth them on All Hallows’ Eve most sound and whole!  
	
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, 
Germany (October 8, 2014) (Rhyme poetic format)


Details | Rispetto | |

Ultimate Bonfire

A ritual is being performed tonight Ancient in its rites, everything’s old in it A bonfire is lit, large within every right Even the troll dances, they don’t come and sit Skeletons are alive by the witches here As are the vampires prowling for some blood there Mummies look out for the flames as they are high The fire reaches up, looking into the sky It looks like the flames surely touch the full moon As they are meant to reach there without reserve Ghosts approach the bonfire lured by evil boon Like the scarecrow looking to hate, which to serve Bats fly around the fire, as spiders skitter Black cats carry red eyes with souls so bitter The ultimate goal of this horrible sight To show their power over the human might
Russell Sivey


Details | Free verse | |

The Evil Witch

	Lightning strikes
Across the barren sky

		Leaving a red image
			Burned into my eyes
Hearing chains moving
			I don’t see anything before me
	But emptiness and darkness

		All of a sudden
A band of evil comes out
	And seeks to convert me
			The werewolves and vampires
	All want my blood
		To sustain their own lives
But to end mine
		
	So I run very fast
Not knowing where I’m going
		I simply run into a house
			And they stay away
		Afraid to enter

I look around the barely lit room
	I find everything to be antique
			There is an ancient picture
		Of a frightening person
			On the mantel of the fireplace
	
	I smell chemicals burning
As if something is happening
			I hear chanting of a woman
		And an evil laugh as well

		I hear footsteps coming from a door
	So I hide behind a grandfather clock
			And I peek to see this hideous woman
Fearful she looks so evil

	Now she walks into the living room
And stops in mid step
		She looks right at me
			And her finger snaps
	And uncontrollably I move towards her
		Without any will of my own
She brings me to her
		With her own bidding
			To create fear, great fear inside me
I find it tremendously fierce
		And pain starts to writhe in me

	She laughs, a cackling laugh
			And kisses me on my cheek
She then tells me, “Thou art going to die tonight”
		And I know deep inside
	She is telling the truth

The next thing I know
		I’m tied up inside a large pot
			And she starts to boil the liquid
		That is beneath me
	I can only feel the intense pain
			And really find myself
Being boiled alive
		Boiled in her basement
	Just for a solution of evil
		Something she is making for herself
			So she may wield invincible powers
And live for another hundred years
	As an evil witch

Russell Sivey

Contest: Halloween only
Sponsor: SKAT - XOX

10/13/2013


Details | Rispetto | |

Red Eyed Skeleton

The front seat of my car lies a skeleton Sitting there waiting on me to come inside Red glowing eyes looking like a fire beacon He laughed at me when I saw him, I sure cried All around the car are jack-o-lantern heads So very evil they are the dark undead Powers of these pumpkins brought alive these bones Waiting on me to come, fearfully alone
Russell Sivey


Details | Rispetto | |

The Black Dragon

The black dragon, flies way up high in the air Seems to be controlling something that’s below There is quite a stirring deep within its lair Then out of nowhere they give a thrashing blow They walk down the streets of this lost, wary town Fearsome are zombies that escaped with a frown They reach the homes of the innocent to eat The dragon lost control of this horrid feat
Russell Sivey Contest: Halloween Poem Contest with Only 1 theme...... Sponsor: Leonora Galinta 10/13/2013


Details | Quatrain | |

Halloween Dare

I found a trail, one of lit pumpkins here Which is leading up to the haunted house I followed them as I am truly dared Then rain started to fall, quite a good douse Just then a werewolf howled in the darkness While the full moon is unblocked by the clouds I make it to the porch, there’s no kindness Claps and bangs from inside are all aloud Lightning flashes showing a great dead tree On the dark side yard of this fearful place There are seeming loud whispers wanting me When I turned around there’s a fearful face I run, as fast as I can, through the yard Looking over my shoulder as I do I then trip over some wood that is charred And fall in a grave with a ghostly boo I try to get out, screaming as I try Fearfully knowing I might be stuck there And I find some roots that gets me out high Avoiding headstones now, I left my dare
Russell Sivey


Details | Sonnet | |

Her Evil Work

There’s an old creaky mansion before me One with a sole light in the attic free With a red door in the extreme entrance One that’s filled with webs of a spider dance Under a full moon by an empty tree Stands a witch, owner of this house I see With black cats to fulfill a dark wild curse Light forms around her hands looking adverse Then a cat forms into a handsome man Full of evil, this being has a plan Fog encircles the two standing around As quick as a wink he disappears down Her goal is partly done, her evil work Is powerfully enhanced by this murk
Russell Sivey


Details | Rhyme | |

The Devil To Pay

You better pay heed to the Devil and give the man his dues
He's been around a long time now he's even made the news
Iraq, Iran, Vietnam,  you name it He's been there
Katrina came in waves of pain and stripped the naked bare

Global warming, new age dawning He holds all the aces
He forms the plans of presidents, his form takes many faces
His truths are lies, unholy ties, to satiate the thirst
You'll run his race of greed an' hate and God knows He'll come first

The Reich had flown His colours, Genghis rode His steed
On Jesus flesh the cat did flail an' left His soul to bleed
A crown of thorns or Satans horns is the choice that's laid upon us
His trick is to remain unseen, as He daily walks among us

His numbers rise among us 18 and 666
They gather at the meeting place, to score the Devils fix
A house of white, a heart of black, power no one man should hold
The jury sits in chamber, shall mankind be forced to fold

Oh Tiber, father Tiber, to whom the romans pray
A child of light sits balanced on the scales of dark decay
The clarity of reason lies drowning in your sea
As nations gather armies "IN JOYOUS RAPTURE HE"

From dawn of time 'til present day, religious cradles shook
"Under every rock you'll find me" If you care to look
"Not in my name" Jesus cries as they squeeze His tortured soul
While at His feet the Devil holds his bloodstained, begging bowl

What is next? What remains, of the scraps from the Jackals table
Can Christ redeem us, or the Devil claim us, or is love indeed a fable
The moon is full, the tide is high, the wolves they walk among us
The innocent scream "The End Is Nigh" As the vultures prey upon us


Details | Sonnet | |

Woman in a Graveyard

The lonely woman walks through the graveyard She feels like she’s within a crazy ward Skeletons rise, frighten her completely She thinks she chose her way incorrectly Zombies come to her looking for fresh food She fears this event is not looking good She hears dark noises coming from the sky Then she sees witches flying way up high Just before the skeletons grab her neck She screams at all the ghosts that call and beck They converge at once to tear her apart Just orange is what she sees at this part Pain envelopes her as she finds her soul It’s ripped out of her, she now sees their goal
Russell Sivey


Details | Narrative | |

The Nocturnal Delight of Mephistopheles - Part One

One dark, dreary night while working on a poem of hellish, hideous and 
Horrible fright, I became at once quite so fatigued and could barely keep 
My eyelids open anymore, and then suddenly darkness came masking my 
Psyche in a Most eerie dark night, only to find when awakening a sinister,
Dark presence lurking at my chamber door. 

I thought I was dreaming with the furtive appearance of this dark visage 
Before me, when suddenly he began to speak slowly, to mesmerize me 
Whole with his fiery eyes. As this dark visage spoke to me, I sensed an awful 
Aura of macabre right before me, but my senses were paralyzed not by fear,
But a curiosity of this man with his fiery eyes.

On my inquiry I found to my shock and surprise this man was the evil 
“Mephistopheles,” in spirit and body now whole, who was here to quench
His rapturous desire in fulfilling his “nocturnal delight,” the essence of his 
Lurking presence now in my chamber room. Mephisto was indeed a demon 
Devil who served Lucifer with a most passionate delight.

I couldn’t believe my very ears, evil Mephisto standing before me with his 
Fiery eyes of fright, beckoning me toward a world of death, demons, deception, 
And debauchery. I told him that I knew of his fate with Faust, and he replied, 
With his smiling delight: “Faust was only fiction—Goethe’s imagination, 
And I’m quite real to you and most unholy.”

With Mephisto’s revelation to me, I began to quake, shudder with a most pure 
Fear, for I knew this dream was not a dream, but a nightmare taunting my very 
Soul. Thinking fast, I asked: “But why am I here in your presence tonight?” 
Mephisto replied, “This is the night of my nocturnal delight, for I’ve come for
Your soul.”

With this, I asked pray tell, “Why me, Sir?” “I’m only a struggling young poet.”
“Why my soul of all things, Sir?” “I’m still learning my craft and mastering my 
Works. To this Mephisto replied, “My Master loves the vim and vigor of your 
Works young poet.” “He admires your passion to learn the Black Arts and to put 
Dark evil ideas in your poetry.”

His direct reply and intention plunged my spirit into a dark whirlwind and vortex
Of the vilest evil. I told Mephisto that I did not consciously summon him on this 
Most dark of night. He replied: “Your concerns matter not to me young poet, for
In time you’ll become most evil.” “And, I’m here now to make you a most 
Wonderful offer, one that you shan’t refuse tonight.”

How did this situation move so fast from whence Mephisto graced his presence 
At my door? My mind now was racing in overdrive and overwrought with images 
Of death, evil, and fear. I had little time left before Mephisto acted to doom my 
Soul making me both a tragic and poor figure. “What do I do?” I pondered as 
These events tortured my inner being leaving me in panic, despair, and utter fear.

END OF PART ONE - THE NOCTURNAL DELIGHT OF MEPHISTOPHELES

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany 
(October 11, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)


Details | Rhyme | |

The Colors of Halloween

The colors of Halloween spark such great interest
Like the orange of a pumpkin that delight
With a face that can bring a lot of fright

The great ghoulish color green surely brings unrest
Could be seen as the color of their deep eyes
That the undead have inside when they rise

The color purple has a mighty sheen, could be best
This eerie color comes forth from the dark spell
That the evil witch casts, bringing forth all of hell

The color black is Halloween, greater than all the rest
The color in which the deep darkest shadows cast
The ones that call forth evil that will surely last

All these Halloween colors bring life one would jest
They brings a delightful feel to all on Halloween
A playful feeling for everyone is truly seen

The colors of Halloween spark such great interest
The great ghoulish color green surely brings unrest
The color purple has a mighty sheen, could be best
The color black is Halloween, greater than all the rest
All these Halloween colors bring life one would jest

Russell Sivey

Form Costanza


Details | Free verse | |

The Locked Room

''Dark things happened there....''
they say, with fading tones,
almost reaching their vanishing point,
due to unhidden fright.

Sometimes they hear eerie moans;
see dancing shadows on the space
between the door and floor; other times
whispers that make them feel as though
they will shatter like hollow glass tubes.

To stop the haunting,
they hired spiritualists to seal
the room's door with their divine will.

Candles flicker in the night,
as voices of the undead wander across the corridors.....


Details | Narrative | |

The Nocturnal Delight of Mephistopheles - Part Two

THE NOCTURNAL DELIGHT OF MEPHISTOPHELES - PART TWO (CONTINUED):

The stage was now set . . . from nowhere, Mephisto handed me a missive in 
Medieval Latin to read. He said, “Young poet, the hour is late, and I know 
You’re a scholar who can read this letter for better.” “And Sign it now you 
Must to decree your fealty and your very soul to my Master, so now take 
Heed!” And with that, my eternal soul was now the prize to be bartered 
To make my life one of evil—for the better?

For a moment, a seeming eternity, I dreamt a thousand dreams, died a 
Thousand deaths, and “NO!” was my clear answer to this unholy charlatan
And prevaricator of the truth, as he stood quite close. “A most unwise
Decision my young friend,” responded Mephisto seething in anger at my
“NO.” And then Mephisto declared: “I will take your soul anyway, and 
Bring your life to its final close.”

That was it, my time was up and I knew I must act decisively to save my 
Soul, if not my life! Dropping quickly to my knees, eyes shut, with a small 
Crucifix in my hand, I replied in kind: “Get thee away from me unclean evil 
Spirit in Jesus Christ’s name I Pray, and save my life Oh Lord God! And 
Deliver my soul from this foul evil tempter and cleanse my mind of his kind!”

With that declaration, trembling and shaking, I continued by chanting the 
Lord’s Prayer, when suddenly I heard a sonorous, searing scream and my eyes
Opened wide to behold: Mephisto engulfed in the fire and flames of unholy 
Damnation resultant from the Lord’s Prayer. This final event ended Mephisto’s
Captivation of my mind and spirit so delightful to behold!

With this final image—I jolted awake quite suddenly, and I was sprawled 
Out on my writing desk, with my ink pen nearby, and the warm glow of the 
Bright morning sun breaking through the window. With this, this young poet 
Felt safe and very much in the Lord’s grace as I peered up from my desk, 
Basking wonderfully in God’s morning sunshine which illuminated my 
Whole room from the window.

For the first time, I paused and I smiled—and I said: “Thank you Oh Lord 
God, Master of the Universe!” “For now I’ve learned a most powerful 
Lesson in the wages of sin and temptation of Thy Fallen Angel.” With 
That I felt saved and destined after some much needed rest, to begin writing
Against that perverse Kingdom of Lucifer and to spirit into print, pure poetry 
In praise of God—the Most Supreme Angel!!

But then I spied one final observation when I glanced at the floor from my 
Desk, a small note lay there. The warmth I felt evaporated—and my nerves 
Twitched, my body contorted as I stood up from my desk. I picked the note 
Up off the floor, with the exquisite blood-red writing on it, just as it had been
Placed there, and read: “You won this time my little poet friend, but next time 
I come, Lucifer, My Great Master will take your holy soul forever and all 
Eternity into hellfire and damnation—My Best Wishes, Mephisto.” 

After reading Mephisto’s note—I stood in a daze, bewildered and speechless,
And most afraid again!!        

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany 
(October 11, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)


Details | Rispetto | |

Cemetery Ritual

On an eerie and foggy Halloween night A couple enters a dark graveyard with fear Hearing noises of a ritual tonight Knowing that demons and skeletons are near A sacrifice of a virgin is their goal The demons hearts are really black as coal Raising the fierce zombies up, they do attack The couple turns and runs never to look back
Russell Sivey, Form: Rispetto
The eerie fog is even denser now; Our couple wander, praying to get home, But find themselves inside a wizard’s lair; He’s chanting from a heavy, dusty tome. He raises rotting corpses, smelling foul; They grab the couple, bite and tear to kill; Our heroes die, then hear the wizard‘s voice, And rise to serve him too, against their will.
Jack Horne, Form: Rhyming verse Contest: New Contest Team Work Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton 9/1/2013


Details | Free verse | |

THE SPIDER ARACHNID

                                                            
Covered in the jungles evergreen thickets, beneath
Stones and mortars refuge lays an old Mayan crypt,
And on it is written an ancient curse, dare not enter 
Mortal men, or forsake thy living soul, as tributes
Offering at the altar, of the Arachnid Queen.
At midnight's twilight hour, under the moon's elliptical
Shroud of illusions, is exposed isolation's
Forbidden tomb of evil.
As torches spontaneously combust, bursting forth
Into flame, slowly the grave stone rolls backwards,
Releasing the cold and damp air from within.
Emerging from her unholy tomb, this spider demon,
Inhales the crisp night air at last.
A creature is she the Arachnid Queen, of devils
Spawning between her father of darkness,
And a fallen angel of spiritual light.
Weep do the cherubs of heaven, at her birthing's ritual, for
One of their own was so sacrificed, shackled and chained,
Treated as if an animal of disdain, the Arachnid Queen, 
Clawed her way forth, from her mother’s maternal womb.
As a gifts prize from the dark lord, unto his child
Born from the darker side, is the deadly touch of death itself.
To kill without mercy, with accuracy's pin point efficiency,
For she bares no heart or souls pity.
A phantom of mist is she, without definitions form, slowly
She crosses under the forest canopy, and one by one the
Veils of webbing descend, upon her from above. As her
Minion guardians do weave, each delicate sheath's covering.
Revealing a skeletal shape beneath, exposing a beast of 
Monstrous proportions, behold her eight legs appendages
Of a spider.
But above is beauty personified, shimmering as a goddess
Of ebony black, with eyes the color of sea foam, and red
Flaming tresses that blow freely in the flowing breeze.
With the voice of an angel, she so sings ever sweetly,
This is the gift of her fallen mother, to entice the lustful 
Hunger within all men, to devastations final end.
Waving her teasing finger at them, come hither
My love sick fellow and I'll mend your broken heart,
And so do they come, unto the Arachnid Queen.
Entering her webbing's layer, she takes her crimson 
Throne of the dammed, laughing with pleasures sheer
Delight, for tonight she shall feast upon the flesh and blood,
Of living men, and revel in their screams of pain.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

OFF THE PATH

You've stumbled off the righteous path, into the hushed
Wilderness of the unknown, beware for salvation's sake,
Go back nomad; travel not these paths of no return.
But nay this is the domain of the shades, little is
The light, allowed to seep through the thickets, heavily
Forested canopy.
You hear the under brush cracking, braking, and freeze.
It's too late for you nomad, for this is death's sacred land.
A place of shadows and darkness, and you are the pray.
It is the scent of fear, drawing these demon dogs of 
Damnation's lost, unto your path
Run nomad, for the devil's hounds lie close behind thee,
Those whom need no rest, the depraved, hungering for 
The taste of raw flesh, cravings lustful, with an insatiable thirst,
Nay never to be satisfied, instinctual beasts on a blood hunts 
Trail.
A packs brethren of the undead, dwelling along the fringes 
Of humanity, ever watching, ever aware, just waiting for
The innocent to be caught off guard, than attacking without
Mercy.
Run no mad, for the bastard's of hell's keep, have sensed
Your presence.
In keeping with thy hearts rhythm blood pumps, in unisons
With thy breath,
As exhaustion's limbs tire of this chase, for your life's own
Survival, run nomad, you must move onwards, at any cost.
For the howl of the white fanged, nip at the back of thy heels,
Flee do not take time to gaze behind thee, run nomad,
Refuges salvation lies not far a head.
A primeval moon glows above thee, illuminating this spectral
Land of the forbidden, it's just than, that you truly realize, the danger
Zone you've entered, as yellow greenish eyes pierce
Through the thickets wild, nomad your surrounded.
Climb to the highest point of observation, as primitive instincts kick in,
But these creatures have all eternity to wait, patient are the kin
To the dead, slippery is the branch, on which humanity grasps,
And beneath lie the tongues of the hungry beast, drooling with
Anticipation feast to come.
In the forest does anyone hear the falling of a tree, 
Or the screaming of a nomad, who has lost his way,
Maybe it was just the wind that you have heard,
I wonder, what the noise really was, as it echoes
Deep within the forest of the unknown.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN









Details | Free verse | |

SUBMARINE-THE GRAY GHOST

From fathoms deepest keep, where man,
Shall not dare go, a white toothy giant
Dwells, with hatred's malice, this is a living man
Eater, whom lies at the bottom of the ocean.
In this striking zone, of deadly encounters,
Here where dead men tell no tails, crimson
Currents of the lifeless, float to the top of the food
Chain, and their last breaths of air explode, as
Bubbles above at the surface,
Leaving nothing behind but a bloody residue,
And the wreckage mangled life raft, and one word
Still lingers on the foreboding breeze, as a screams
Echoing drowns into whispers in silences last refrain,
SHARK!
Nay this aquatic Phantom, called Submarine,
Is the gray ghost that stalks within every human
Beings nightmares, just below the waves of our
Subconscious fears, a demon lurks in the darkness,
Of the murky shallows, waiting to take a bite
Out of us.
A thirty-seven foot killing machine, with razor
Blades of jagged ivory's, moving at velocities mega
Speed, heading straight for humanity's beach,
His favorite hunting grounds.
A leviathan of a shark, highly intelligent,
Circling his preferred prey called man,
The hunter is ready to appease his
Insatiable appetite that is never satisfied,
In a carnivores blood bath of mayhem,
Just off shore of paradise.
In hell's kingdom many souls scream from
Below one word that echoes through the
Chum filled surf above, SHARK.
For these are the latest victims, of
The Submarines wrath, and now they do
So warn the living, beware of this sharp
Toothed Giant!
Look into the black eyes of death, take
Notice if he bares the scare of men,
And notches gouge mark on his dorsal fin,
For than thee shall know for sure, if
It is truly the gray ghost,
Known as Submarine.
If thou’ art sure, than say your final prayers unto God,
And inhale one last deep breath of air,
Than swim away, as fast as you can,
For humanity is now on the menu!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fred the Legend been sighted part 3

It all started one Halloween..no one knew what it would mean...could it ? was it? just a 
dream ? Follow the " Legend of Fred " series and you'll see what I mean...



Everyone’s asking where is Fred..?

Has anyone looked under their bed ?

I’ve heard tell he disappeared on this night filled with fright..

Many said he was taken by the things that go bump in the night…

But things of this nature don’t happen around here that much….

Has anyone out there seen a little red headed clown ?

He has a red nose and a smile turned upside down…

The chocolate and sweets from his trick or treat…

Still lays scattered all over the street…

I know he wouldn’t have gone on his own..

Cause he came from a very happy home…

Some say they’ve seen him, running down the street..

Yelling at the top of his lungs….

Hey everybody it’s time for “ trick or treat “…

So on that night when you go out...looking for some fun..

Remember the little red clown named Fred..

And all the things this poem has said…..












Details | Rhyme | |

Creature In The River

A couple decided to walk
down to the park near the river
At that time, you could barely see the crimson moon, just a sliver

That moon was always that color on Halloween night.
Lexy was holding on to James hands very tight.

They were so romantically in love
Lexy thought he was sent from above.
The moon had finally came out from behind the clouds
While they were standing by the river they had heard something crack loud.

Lexy grabbed James and screamed, "Let's get out of here."
She had a fearful look on her face and turned to tears.

It was too late, a strange creature came out of the water with fiery eyes.  They were grabbed from behind, as she started to cry.

They couldn't even scream
their mouth were covered.
The creature said, "You two lovers, are mine tonight."

I need two virgins for the witch 
had been watching you all year
Their faces were white, full of fear.

The creature had blood 
flowing from his eyes
As he completely came out of the water,
He was all covered with flies.
Lexy and James hands were finally tied.

The two who had grabbed them 
walked in front of them at last
They were zombies, dry blood  Tongues were like a serpents, fast
they didn't dare move for they were poisonous with venom.

A boat came by, the monster gave the kids to the witch
when she spoke, she was loud and had a high pitch.

When Lexy and James were placed
in the boat,
The witch cast a spell, then put on a black coat.

When she cast another spell, large snakes came out, then wrapped
around their bodies, hissing, 
they were trapped.

Boat finally stopped, snakes had disappeared,  zombies had came
and picked them up out of the boat,
laid on a huge rock, positioned same.

Their hands and feet were spread 
tied to the trees, next to where they laid,
spells were cast, evil prayers were chanted, when ordered, zombies obeyed.

A goblet came over with a dagger
piercing them through the heart
they died instantly, which was planned from the start.

Poured the blood,  from the heart into the glass bowl, too
Each zombie and goblet sipped blood from the bowl, they knew
they had to chant, then the leaders of the group and the witch bit through 
it and bit a piece from the heart.

Passed it around to each zombie 
so they could do the same
gave them energy and now
they were no longer tame.

Ate all the flesh off the bodies, made a sacrifice, spirits came out and flew away, 
turned midnight and disappeared, they all went to their homes to stay.
© Melanie . All rights reserved,


Details | Quatrain | |

Black Evil Pumpkins

Three pumpkins, just sitting there, are lit up Seemingly harmless to many children But far from the happy pumpkins they seem The pumpkins take more than what is given These black evil pumpkins stay on porches Looking quite innocent with their calm eyes But deep inside are the souls of witches Awaiting children that come in disguise Then with her spells she converts them to frogs And in the process steals their souls this way Laughing can be heard inside the pumpkins Striking fear into all the frogs that run away Many children are lost in the pumpkins Remaining tortured souls of the old witch Her dark power grows with each soul she takes Again Halloween goes without a hitch
Russell Sivey


Details | Free verse | |

THE VOICES OF SALEM

Through the whispering pines,
Down the rolling hills,
Beneath the moons illumination,
Hear them calling, the voices of Salem.
From the cold ground, vengeance’s spirits,
Seek justices revenge.
Innocent blood, beseeching the truths,
Knowledge to be told.
Whom are their judges, honest man,
Nay corruptions greedy thieves.
Land mongers, mongrels seeking
To feast upon the down trontan, and poor.
Witches are they, marked by the devils
Own imprint of evil.
Yet in reality simple farming  folk, toiling for
A better life, caught in a webbing of deceits lies.
Be accursed generations whom with hold,
What was done unto them.
For God's wrath shall be swift and without
Mercy.
In the winters solstice, as the season of death
Takes center stage.
Unmarked tomb stones lie disturbed, by
Ghostly images, cryin out for their atonement's
Liberation.
Ancestral names held on bondage’s list,
Without resolutions resolve.
The innocent retain the stains
Of legacy’s branding mark.
The shackles of history, hold these
 Spirits hostage,
Release these souls, dearest lord, most high,
Let the honest know freedoms cleansing air.
Write the wrongs done unto them, 
Let the voices of Salem be silent at last.
To rest in peace forever, along side their
Beloved kindred.
In the sacred earth of their mother church,
With blessings words spoken ever so softly,
Over them.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN



 

 


 


Details | Quatrain | |

Demon Cursed House

A young family entered their new home A beautiful house, seemingly a steal Went on sale just weeks before they found it They immediately jumped on this deal Their furniture was already shipped here Waiting for them to move right on inside They never questioned why the price’s so low But they found out who will surely abide Family goes to lay down that first night Looking for a nice quiet, peaceful sleep Right after the couple’s eyes closed they found Sounds scraping and hearing a baby weep The father gets up to check the noises And walks down the hall to the children’s room They were all asleep, but a noise wakes them All of them walk the hallway into doom In front of them a demon walks the floor With a crooked, wry smile on his dark face A noise behind them shows some human ghosts They surely wanted to run from this space The family screams as they close their eyes Then the sounds abruptly vanish near them They look around, the daylight filters in They all are wishing this house to condemn Frantically they get ready to leave As the father is packing his suitcase He notices a photo on the wall Not of his family, it’s an old face When he looked closely fear enveloped him Seems they are the fearful ghosts from last night Demon was the old man in the picture They are still afraid even in the light Surely knowing now why the house’s so cheap They ran fast as they could away from there Never to look back at this evil house Let someone else live with this intense scare
Russell Sivey


Details | Verse | |

Goddess of leme, mimic the devil talk



People of my realm,
the dragon realm
History of
destruction is
reborn
But with a Leme spot
in threads
The honor to the
Lord Serpent
His tongue fire and
teeth iron

For your fortune is
misery
You shall let die
and be spared
No generation shall
come to pass

The earth realm, I
will dominate
Another sweet dragon
realm
Where darkness
shines all through
And shame
substituted with
pride

Unto you shall be my
black spell
I will then reward
with piercing mercy
Beware! Is the
goddess you serve?

           
Hkk…hk…huu…


Details | Quatrain | |

Spirit Collection

Flying on a broomstick the witch goes high Seemingly through to the moon and above She cackles a laugh as she moves onward Below her flies nimble bats without love A blood sucker awaiting her return So he can become the greatest vampire Outside the haunted mansion sits pumpkins All lit for this night, for evil desire Door opens, there seems to be no one there A ghostly outline stands in its own place As if by quick lightning the witch appears Holding a spell to cover all this space She finds the wondering bat, to convert Making him the greatest vampire ever Power envelopes all about himself He enters the house to find more power Once energized, through the evil controls He teleports into the nearby town Here he will feed on the young innocents And make each soul of theirs his very own After the collection he returns home And puts the victims into crystal ball So the dark witch can use them as lost ghosts To play evil throughout the land and all All that’s left is smiling jack-o-lanterns To carry dead spirits within its core They’re placed at most houses within the world To complete the spell, the spirit will roar
Russell Sivey


Details | Rhyme | |

Haunted House

There’s an abandoned house down the lane A dark place that no one ever dares to enter through It’s been said that all who lived there went insane So they shut it down, yet it holds an evil way of staring at you You might here the creaking of large iron doors As evil lurks beyond the gates, hatred is its score Only the bravest of men should dare enter its lure Even those will be screaming "I don't want any more" The windows reflect red piercing eyes that look deep within your soul Seeing the fear that runs a chill through your bones Because you know the history that this house dwells A gateway people say leads to the depths of hell The house is the epitome of what is evil A living, breathing entity of which is hate A deep darkness, a fear that this is real Kills all that enter here, meeting their fate Last Halloween night, one person was dared to go in So he walked over to the door and turned to look at his friends where they stood Then suddenly the door violently opened wide and something grabbed him Ever since then they see him as a decaying ghost that roams around the neighborhood
Created by: Gail Doyle and Russell Sivey


Details | Rhyme | |

Halloween

Halloween 
Let the night of horrors fill the light air,
A night filled with terror and twisted scares!
The evil will be blessed on this night,
given domain to walk the earth till light.
You can cower and stay inside your home
yet evil shall find its way as it roams
as it comes closer to finding you now
Shadows of the night shall take you somehow
Doors creek open, lights turn off, they are here.
Your skin crawls as your nightmares raise your fears!
RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! Try hard not to be seen
Or Evil shall take you this Halloween 
CMS


Details | Limerick | |

Witch named Tahlie

Witch named Tahlie

There once was a witch name Tahlie
Who always flew really high
Kept her cat with her on her broom
She would never really had any room
Then all fell off killing her mincemeat pie.

Written: Oct. 22, 2014
Eve T.M.Carter


Details | Limerick | |

Gal name Jane

Gal name Jane

Knew a freaky, crazy gal name Jane
Everyone thought she was real insane
Her siblings and all thought they were right
For everyone called her a mighty fright
She left all the folks in town with gore of bloodstain.

Written: Sept. 10, 2014
Eve T.M.Carter


Details | Rhyme | |

Witchcraft

Down by the forest's edge at night 
she dances as her auburn hair wildly glows
Then she steps out into the pale moon light,
so the night creatures can see the show.

Tiny Fairies quietly watch as she brings
her steaming cauldron to a boil
Spirits cry and then the bell she rings
as she whisper her chant of toil. 

Misty fog the woods it does grace
as she is sealing in the circle with salt.
The fire's glow lights up her intense face
but let not Ye be caught.

Even the wise old owl says not a word
a frog's eyes, a bat and a dead man's bones
A few roots, a newt and a wing of a bird
a rumbling sound and a lot of groans.

From the ground her dead lover he does rise
welcoming him with such passion and a kiss
For each time her soul is filled with sweet surprise
for the one she has missed.


Details | Free verse | |

run

all  is well 
cause all discreet
my candy drops at my feet
no time to pick up
the time is for running
a scream escapes my soul
my feet tremble with exitement
my hands shake with fear but I must hurry
for the goblins are coming near
they will bring no mercy
beat me up then take off
the lord I hope is with me
and they will not take another child


Details | Free verse | |

THE DOPPEL GANGER

It is a creature of smoke and mirrors, a surface
Chameleon, blending into reflective chambers of
Its glass prism, a waiting for the right moment to escape.
Thin are the doors, unto the ethereal portals, extensions
Of sheer panel passages, leading unto haunted corridors,
That divide and separate, these realms between the
The nether and reality.
Shape shifting copy cats, waiting to pounce on
Their unaware victims, possession's identity thieves,
Sliding smoothly across stolen images, of their
Attended future victim.
The doppelganger, entices its victim by vanity's fair,
For they are the vain and self absorbed, looking into
The mirror admiring themselves, it takes opportunities
Vulnerable Position.
Lovely lady full of grace, curtsey's to the beast within,
Its steady gaze matches her every movement,
Tenderly this product of high society, runs her bare
Finger tips across the image reflected in the side board
Mirror, thus in turn the doppelganger swings, the door wide
Open, and switches places.
Then it repeats the curse that trapped it in the first place,
A hundred life times ago, reside therein beast of beauty,
Until another takes thy place within this glass prison.
Heckling, the doppelganger laughs and walks away.
Until this life's essence is drained, and then once more,
It shall melt into the mirror, as if made of ice, melting beneath
The heat of the noon day's sun in summertime.
Beware those, whom value beauty above all things,
For something maybe stalking thee and it's called
The doppelganger.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN.


Details | Free verse | |

THE DEVIL'S WIND-CHIMES

Beneath the dark abyss, in the realm beyond
Hell's blackened gates, a haunting music is played,
It is a sounding's evil of supernatural rhythm, with an
Eerie quality of the ethereal, unleashed unto the underworld,
A tormentor's punishment, to plague the souls of the damned.
But the dark lord, it so calms his malevolence vengeance,
Soothing the savage anger, of the beast within.
Let the devil's wind chimes play on eternally,
If it so pleases the grand dark master, of this unique
Orchestra.
Twinkling gems, dried pieces of organ flesh, covered
In ember light, dried in the everlasting fire's within,
Hardened and smoothed, to expose the elongated faces,
Of the deceased, entombed within.
Thin chains connecting forged links, by sinful acts of the living.
Suspended and hung, are fittings fastened ever tightly,
From the devil's throne room ceiling.
These single slender slices of the undead, remain
As Satan's personal trophies, glittering in the bowels
Of Hell's fire, and sparkle in the twilight hour of midnight.
Clinking, clanking, between the forsaken screaming, and weeping,
As the witches icy winds blow, against the tormented souls trapped
Within the devil's wind-chimes. 
No mercy's redemption can save them, or salvation's name given
In vain, for they so belong to the lord of darkness for all eternity.
Oh do the howling children of the night accompany these
Voices, that echo from down below, so sweetly do these
Hell hounds, add another lovely texture, to this melodic
Blood chilling song.
Behold the black hooded maestro, whom waves his baton of power,
Leading this misbegotten orchestra, it is the Grim Reaper himself,
Thus to please and appease, his highness and master.
From down below, what price is to be paid in mortal soul?
Remember this my friend if someone offers you a token's
Promise, that you feel you can't refuse, the sound you've heard
Tonight, for it may be the devil in disguise, wishing to add one
More chime to this his evilest of collections.
 
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
 


Details | Free verse | |

On Halloween Night - Hell's Gate

On Halloween Night - Hell’s Gate
Hell’s Gate, a misshapen, naturally occurring stone arch, Towering over a smelly stagnant stream, Scary, eerie, and darkly foreboding; Not so inviting, crawling with creepy ghostly trees That sprouted twisted thorns resembling the Devil’s crown; And the stench of death hovered in the stale air.
Feared by the village folks, Hell’s Gate was known To be home to many unholy creatures, and tales abound About four-fingered duendes, with feet turned backwards, Chupacabras that sucked the life's blood from animals, Venomous two-headed albino vipers, and even La Llorona, The Weeping Lady, who spirited children away to a watery grave.
Only the very brave dared to venture near Hell’s Gate. Adults would not go there even in broad daylight, Children quivered and hid under thick covers in their beds; Especially on Halloween night when evil spirits roamed about, And the mouth of Hell’s Gate was open wide - Waiting to trap unsuspecting souls.
Notes: Duendes are fairy or goblin-like creatures that lack thumbs. They can be crafty and evil.


Details | Rhyme | |

On Halloween Night

Ever since I was a child
I fell in love with the Halloween Night
Is it not a moment so wild
One worthy of being seen as infinite

This year's halloween has me all perked up
With my own peers I would party and sup
Deep into a dark and desolate forest
Somewhere further away than civilisation's crest

I dressed as a witch
The one who was killed by Gretel
I hoped to make all those who saw me itch
Should they resist me, I would ask them for a duel

We walked down the streets
Children ran everywhere with bags full of sweets
It was a night oh so lovely
I felt like I had begun to live, oh how lovely!

We reached our destination, the lonely forest
It was so silent, nothing moved, not even the trees, the largest
We reached a clearing
And we settled for some dining!

It would have been still so lovely
But Oh how gruesome
It came from nowhere, a beast so fearsome
And made of my peers a meal so hearty

It was so huge, with eyes so red, with teeth so sharp
He let me live, for from my mouth, prayers I did warp
Then I felt it, a hand lifting me up from my near death
Taking me back to the security of home, as if giving me a new birth

Oh for a halloween, it surely is the most deadly one I have lived
My peers are gone, I hope that beast as well no more does breathe!


Details | I do not know? | |

The Pumpkin Gang

They roam the streets with such evil grins, Spreading mayhem wherever they've been, Smashing pumpkins, toilet papering trees, Stealing candy from good little girls and boys, They are known in these parts, As the pumpkin gang. They ride their bikes throughout the town, Terrorizing both the young and the old, Chasing teens down with their eerie lights, That give off a faint greenish glow, Cackling madly in their pumpkin-like heads. The gang comes around every Halloween night, But nobody knows where they came from, But it is rumored they come, From the old Jensen's pumpkin patch, Deep from beneath the ground where they slumber, Until next Halloween night. They appear to be human until they remove their heads, Dressed all in black from shoulders to feet, Rattling chains around their wrists, And sometimes they like to throw them at kids, Their laugh can be heard echoing about the town, Like banshee's they cry on this hallowed Halloween night. Bikes ablazing with greenish fire, dancing in the night, Like some old deepish broken desire, They ride the streets like speed demons, Chasing off any who get in their way, They do not speak but rev up their bikes, You better beware, When the pumpkin gang come to town. The moon hangs high in the midnight sky, Pumpkins lay squashed at every doorstep, Candy from torn bags litters the street, And green fire glows from where their bikes touched the earth, Goodbye pumpkin gang, return to whence you came, Until next Halloween, we will be ready..., We will be ready... to end your mischievous ways.


Details | Free verse | |

A Cold Dark Yellow Hallow Moon 2

continued 

The Phantom Vampire’s ritual on the foggy nights of the
“Cold Dark Yellow Unhallowed Moon” is to drink the blood 
Of as many young innocent people as he can all the while 
Destroying their lives and tormenting their souls in an 
Unending Existence of evil and debauchery as minions of 
The Undead . . . . 

As a servant of Lucifer himself, the Phantom Vampire’s 
Principal charge is that of a “Soul Seeker”— and seeking 
Them he does quite successfully while destroying lives  
This unending process is interrupted only by the dawn of 
The next day’s morning as the bright rays of sunlight warm 
The Earth and purify and sanctify the power and purpose of 
The Almighty Lord God . . . . 

As a priest . . . a man of the cloth in this bucolic Irish village
Along the sea coast, I hold my head in shame and revulsion
At the evil escapades rendered by the Phantom Vampire
During his nocturnal visits to feed on the blood and souls 
Of our innocent people . . . .   

I always turn and talk to God while earnestly praying for their 
Blind souls through their gossamer eyelids and seeking the 
Lord’s divine protection and delivery from this most dark and 
Wretched evil . . . May the bright sunlight show them the 
Road to true happiness during the Feast of All Souls and to the 
Gates of Salvation . . . .

With no fear and with most clear purpose in mind and the divine 
Support of our Almighty Lord God in Heaven . . . I shall be the 
One fulfilling God’s charge in driving that long wooden stake— 
Blessed with Holy Water and Angel’s Dust—through that 
Evil dead putrid heart of the Phantom Vampire! 

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 6, 2014)


Details | ABC | |

Shadows Beneath Me

                                     A spirit appears at night,
                                       showing its cold eyes,
                                    simply glaring at it in fright,
                                    a memory I couldn't erase,
                                    for that spirit had my face.

                                      With its red eyes glows,
                                  it disappears from the shadows,
                                even when I was walking at night,
                                     no man, woman or child,
                           but feel that same presence behind me,
                                  but there was no one in sight.

                                  even though I continue to walk,
                             I can feel a cold chill beneath my feet,
                             that spirit only appears in the shadows,
                            not a speck of moonlight or a single spark,
                                 enjoying itself hiding in the dark.

                                    it rises beneath the ground,
                                       showing its ugly frown,
                                with its eyes looking dead at me,
                                        beware the shadows,
                                    for it's never been foreseen,
                                       beware in the night,
                                      because it's Halloween.


                                             


Details | Rhyme | |

Evil Entity

There's an evil entity surrounding the place I live
I try my best to drive them supremely off,
Sometimes I think I hear them cough,
Or maybe it could be just my imagination
But I feel something has to give.

They surely seem quite curtly and scarily bold
Can not this evil just leave and don't make us 
feel cold,
But surely there must be many other places for
these ghoulies can get lost
I'd be willing to pay a great amount to add at 
extra cost.

They never seem to want to leave this darn old 
dwelling
Can't they hear me screaming, ranting and telling?
The evil ghoulies just want to stay in this old dwelling,
Surely they know I just want some peace tonight
Can't they tell nothing can give me a fright, fright, fright?

Tonight I'll cause a big alarming scream of trouble
I may be on the edge of calling a medium to break into
their bubble,
And maybe this old dwelling will finally rest in peace
Once I exterminate these ghoulies from my dwelling place,
Then maybe I'll sign a new form for one more lease.

Written: Oct.16,2014
Eve T.M.Carter


Details | Lay | |

Booming Night

Bang! Bang!
A roaring sound erupted from downstairs awakening my sister and I, 
Silence over filled the house.
My sister and I laid in our bed immobile, 
I listened to her soft quivering breaths as the tranquility took over the world
But then . . . 
Mama screams.
Bang! Bang!
There it went again, 
Now is was silent.
My older sister Susan carried me in her arms and hid me under the bed,
“I’ll be right back,
I’m gonna see what mommy and daddy are up to, don’t come out until I return, You understand me Sophie?” Susan whispered.
I nodded my head yes and she tiptoed out of the door . . . Leaving it cracked open.
Once again it was silent,
I listened to the wind whistling outside my bedroom window,
It was soothing,
It was aesthetic,
My eyes began to slowly drift off,
But then . . . 
Susan screamed which made me jump out of my dreamland.
Bang! Bang!
Once again it was silent,
But this time . . . 
I was on my own. 
“Susan?” I whisperedly called out.
No answer . . . 
“Susan?!” I called out again.
Still no answer
Tears flooded my eyes as more silence filled the room.
I was afraid . . . 
But I knew I had to be strong for Susan.
So I waited . . . 
and waited . . . 
And waited . . .
I waited for so long that I began to lose track of time.
Woo-Woo!
I hear a noise outside my window . . . 
A different noise?
From the corner of my eye I see blue and red lights flashing outside.
 That’s when I knew it was time to be brave,
I got out from underneath the bed and held on tightly on my stuffed teddy bear. 
I tiptoed out of my room and down the stairs,
Moments later my feet hit the cold kitchen floor,
I could barely see anything . . . Except for the flashing blue and red lights outside my front door.
I picked my feet up and slowly began to make my way towards the door, 
Splash! Splash!
I stepped in something wet,
But it felt different . . .
Something sticky . . . 
Something slippery . . .
But dries within seconds.
“Hee-Hee”
I hear a faint laugh come from behind me.
I stood there in the puddle of dark liquid not moving a single muscle.
“Hee-Hee”
The sadistic laugh appeared louder this time,
I felt someone’s warm, but mephitic  fear consumed me,
I could fell the presence
inching closer . . .
And closer . . . 
And closer . . .
Until I could fell their lips brush against my ear.
I didn't dare to turn around . . . 
But I knew it was a man.
He shushed me and whispered something in my ear . . . 
Something that I’ll never forget . . . 
“Bang, Bang”


Details | I do not know? | |

Evil Work

There’s nothing quite like it, eh?
A tool that gets jobs done
But then you’ll have to stay
While others are having their fun
You’re forced to labor all day
Putting off your day in the sun

But Halloween is so near
And won’t it be pitiful
Not to instill some fear
By getting a bit physical
So get yourself in gear

And go and whack
Just one or two
From behind you’ll attack
Heads that will spew

A little blood
Along with brain
After the thud

Purely insane
They’ll clamor

Hammer


Details | Narrative | |

ALONE UPON THIS HALLOWEEN SCENE(a fictional Tale)

Stepping out into the Autumn night of Halloween
It is the Witches and the Warlocks turn to dance
Their air of mystery and mystic is all around
The zombies or the Undead cannot speak
but,their presence seems to be abound
Ghouls of the Men
Vampires within the Ladie's evil grin
It is out here on this Night
When old wives tale frighten us with delight
My footsteps carry me beyond the hill
A cemetery there which omits a deathly thrill
We(meaning a friendly spirit beside me)know the Cackle
Inside many tomb,ready to come out like a babe from its mother's womb
The moon is full and the Old Man paints his smile
Trick or treaters are out,,having fun for a little while
Tonight all Halo as strange yellow mist creeps from behind a boulder narrow
Dancing amidst the moaning dead,darkened shadows surround this timid Head
I feel like Ichabod Crane,strolling,with terror,upon the Midnight Domain
Ghosties
Goblins
Maybe the old Headless Horseman
Perhaps,the wretched creature of a certain Frankenstein
Many of these apparitions could be just a figment or Reality having a smile
The Corridor of the dark as I wander through a deserted Schoolyard park
An evil happened there,just a few moons not  long ago
Halloween Night..1980 when I was ten
A grade schooler was being hazed upon
He was locked in a decrepit old trunk,tucked,not so sweetly away,in the attic of 
this old place..his peers left him for the night

They came back the next morning before the session began
after lifting a set of keys from the sleeping janitor,they went up to the attic to see
The trunk was open,HOW COULD HE HAVE GOTTEN OUT??
tip-toeing near the open trunk and peering down with trepidation..
only to find,a bloody handwritten note,written with EXTREME AGITATION

It said:YOU LOCKED ME AWAY BEFORE YOU DECIDED TO PLAY
BUT..I WILL COME BACK UPON THIS LAND AND MY VENGENCE WILL HAVE 
HIS FINAL SAY!!

The school was beset by this horrible deed,and it was closed forevermore 
because the children confessed and the Pain would never recede
some say..the spirit of the little lad still haunts the old school
Laughter could be heard if many,who dare,decide to explore it and play it cool

Pardon me,my weary Halloween reader..it is TIME for me to head back before
I become no more,by an ominous Night Creeper(or the Ghost of The Attic Child!!)