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Details | Horror Poem | |

To all the heart-breakers- -a ZOMBIE valentine poem-

Wouldn't you rather~

Wouldn't you rather~ be dead?
Maybe shoot yourself in the head?
Over my dead body, I would never want to be a zombie like you.
The sight of your limbs are rotten all the time.
Sorry that the sight of you looks like a 3 legged swine.
So go ahead and do us a all favor, 
hide and stash yourself away from all your neighbor. 
I think i'd rather have my eyes stuck with glue
So I won't have to look at you
When it comes to family friends, you ain't got none.
Your always gonna be called the lonely retarded one.
Who could ever love a face like yours.
not even your mother can see pass your gore's 
No need for privacy when you pee
Go ahead and take a leak and drown yourself in the sea.
Don't think for one second you are irresistible 
Love making with a zombie is impossible.

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head

The time to kill yourself is at hand.
Slicing your wrist is what we recommend.  
Cut off your tongue, don't want to hear you squeal.   
Blood all over, your face is no big deal
A sword or machete will only pick up the pace
I wanna see your guts pop out your mid-waist 
Contaminated objects is a must
Anything to remove your face of disgust.
The easy part is the best
Once you are gone we will all feel blessed,
The flaw of your existence  
Is what keeps us all in distance 

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head

Close your eyes and die
No one wants to hear you cry
You said you wanted to be loved
believe me~ your better off unloved
I say go do yourself off
Anyways you've always had it rough...
Go ahead and scream
This is not a dream
Now see how you make me feel
All I want is for you to end your ugly ordeal.
I will praise this day of course
Knowing soon you'll be a rotting corpse.

happy valentine ~ TO: All My DEADBEAT X-es from Texas..

Details | Horror Poem | |

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 | Horror Poem | |

FORBIDDEN

~ZOMBIE NIGHT~ 

WHINING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair
Bones slowly desert distorted resting homes
Ascension of the dead -Longing to live again 

Sands of desert flip the hour glass back
WHIMPERING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair
Bones slowly desert distorted resting homes 

Taking light from where evil stays 
Feeding away leaving behind a death valley zone
WONDERING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair

Dead souls forsake the common land
Shadowing like Equinox light 
Walking corpse covered in rotten barren sand
WINDY WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND 
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air

Upright, forward broken taboo 
Searching for the perfect breath of fresh air
Sounds of symbols march the ground
Searching to find their missing heartbeat
WHISKING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night


Ascension of the dead  -Long to live again 
Bones slowly desert distorted resting home
Moonlight vanishing in complete despair
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
WHEN WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND

by;PD

Details | Horror Poem | |

Nightmares and Razor Blades

I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death, 
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade, 
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound 
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me. 
I count to three,
One, 
I put the blade to my wrist.
Two,
I start to add pressure.
Three,
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop, 
But there's no going back now. 
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost, 
Lost and angry. 
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.

Details | Horror Poem | |

Bell's on the Wind

Bits and pieces
	bits and pieces
shattered ground writhes with the moon
soft the dirt still
	wet and warm
too soon
	too soon
		too soon

torn nails shred the bell cord
tin the sound in wind wails tinkle, tinkle

the might of death, a spasms rise
no heart beat but a curse
arise, arise, on full moon’s pull
to feed a need
a zombie hull


Bits and pieces
	bits and pieces
shattered ground writhes with the moon
soft the dirt still
	wet and warm
too soon
	too soon
		too soon

no smile, no scream, no blush the rose
arm thrust horror births
skin with bits of cloth
stand now, bone bare in places
long in tooth
to feed
to feed
the Blood Moon’s Curse


Bits and pieces
	bits and pieces
shattered ground writhes with the moon
soft the dirt still
	wet and warm
too soon
	too soon
		too soon
wait not, want not, run and hide
for hunger never ending rises
death but not
pain and hell
cursed they rise
	too soon.


Date: 11/1/13
Poet: Daphne Rising



Details | Horror Poem | |

Nevermore

I write of a man named Edgar Allan Poe,
Whose dark, tortured soul could not rest,
His work is something every poet should know,
These stories are among some of the best.

"The Raven" was never more ghastly and grim,
"The Pit And The Pendulum" which tortured him,
"The Valley Of Unrest" was such a quiet place,
Where "The Sleeper" dreams in peaceful grace,
"The Murders In The Rue Morgue" were a mystery,
"The Fall Of The House Of Usher" had a gloomy history,
"The Black Cat" was dead, but suffered no pain,
"The Tell-Tale Heart" is what drove him insane,
"The Masque Of The Red Death" did conceal,
While "The Purloined Letter" did reveal,
"The Premature Burial" meant for the dead,
"Annabel Lee" was the corpse bride he wed,
"Spirits Of The Dead" found themselves alone,
"The Conqueror Worm" that fed on human bone,
"The Haunted Palace" was wandered by ghosts,
"Tamerlane" written for one he loved the most.

As the poetry flowed from his heart,
One tragic day, death came to his door,
Finally his tortured soul could depart,
He would then pick up his pen, nevermore.

Details | Horror Poem | |

A Girl From Darfur

I can show you where the brimstone sun has no remorse,
and where devils on horseback, have burned our homes, have pillaged our farms.
A killing spree,   the drum of guns, some tried to flee, but died,... each one.
The screams, I dream! Oh, the cries........the cries....... 
I try to mute the sound of them
For...,  I was there, I hid in fear,  was somehow spared, but now I look for 
something, ...something, ...something, here, ...someone to care.
A bit of food, a bit of shade, such bitter taste is in my mouth
A world of hate. To have no shoes,...a walking ghost.....
a blistered soul, I have no hope....  but nothing, nothing left. 
My eyes are blurred, and fires burn, a heavy world, shouts out despair.

Where are the flowers that used to bloom, where are voices, that once I knew?
There are no flowers here...just flies, in waist-deep dust, and a hot orange sun,
that coughs up sounds of fear and guns, and swords and words against my ears, I 
live in fear with no one here. 
I'm just a girl,  or at least I was....    for just a while.

I was defiled, when found by one
He spared my life, but did not see, I'd rather die than be this girl, who feels the 
shame in being free.
I once had a mother, I once had a father, I once had a brother who made me smile
Where did spirits, lift and go, when the devils on horseback came to kill? Spilling 
blood as if for fun?  For thrill? For what? 
Where were the Gods? Where are the ones who turn their heads?
In desert's dust with blood red crust.  They poisoned our wells, burned out our land, 
ravished and raped, and relished their brand......, 
nomads came, leaving shame, evil and horror came like rain.
 
Janjaweed, the name, I cannot say... I live with shame, a world, insane
I try to sleep, but I cannot........I can't forget and I am lost, the cost too much,
a swollen tongue and calloused feet,  across a land of bleached white bones
Alone, alone,....lost and done...a vanished heart......no one sees me  
There are no flowers, there are no trees, 
Famine as my lone companion, a pool of mud a home to stay,
Life drains out more every day, my belly swells....my eyes are parched,
and I can't tell
if I'm alive, or if I'm dead, dried up tears are what I shed....
Where are the flowers for my head? I've been scorned, 
all I have, and all I see is wind and rain, sorrow and pain
thorns, and dust, and a grave, that waits for me



__________________________________________________
Inspired By Cyndi's Challenge on Genocide 8/28/2014
Devils on Horseback – The Darfur genocide (ongoing) The Janjaweed (translated, 
devils on horseback) slaughter and rape the women, men and children of Darfur. As 
of today, 480,000 people have been “exterminated” and 2.8 million displaced.

Let's not turn our heads away from this, or from other atrocities being committed 
throughout the world.

Details | Horror Poem | |

Nine Lives Nine Wives


A cat boasted of having nine lives
and of taking nine wives.
The first was hot as they come,
and so he mostly stayed home.
The second didn’t work out;
she was always straying about.
The third was too set-minded,
as he was always reminded.
The fourth was a home-body,
so he rarely saw anybody.
The fifth was a compulsive eater
and she wasn’t small, either.
The sixth was a loud purrer,
impossible to sleep with her.
The seventh, playful and witty,
made him feel young like a kitty.
The eighth was dull and sedate,
sadly from the very first date.
The ninth was religiously rigid
and frustratingly frigid.
As for a tenth, he's still in doubt,
though he’s still prowling about.
And yet he has to admit it,
nine lives for a cat seems the limit.”

Details | Horror Poem | |

Water Wall


As he slept in tranquil dream, 
Suddenly he flew, it seemed. 
Thrown and landing on the floor, 
Shaking walls and splintered doors. 

Just as quick, the room grew still. 
Distant tremors he could feel. 
Out the door, and up the rock, 
There he stood in sleepy shock. 

How could oceans disappear. 
Then a hissing he could hear 
And a trembling, heavy roar 
Headed for an empty shore. 

Sunrise turned a greenish hue, 
As he climbed, a better view. 
Seeming far too large, he saw 
What must be a water wall. 

Thought of ancient stories told 
Of a wrath that could unfold; 
Sucking oceans with a breath, 
Spewing endless waves of death. 

Instinct quickly cleared his mind. 
Panic now, he clawed and climbed. 
Up, despite the screams he hears, 
As a village disappears. 

Once an evil came to call, 
Scooped them up and took them all. 
Now he's old, his stories wane, 
Of the morning Satan came.


Gene Bourne 
08-18-14


.

.

 

Details | Horror Poem | |

This Ghost Story Is Real

THIS IS A TRUE STORY. I CAN NOT DISCUSS THE DETAILS AT THIS TIME. THE CASE IS STILL IN THE COURTS. THAT IS THE REAL PAINTING, BLOOD TEAR AND ALL. I CAN SAY THE PAINTING WAS CONFISCATED BY THE POLICE AS EVIDENCE. AS FAR AS I AM CONCERNED THEY CAN KEEP IT. *****************************************************************
That's when the woman in the canvas, well, started to cry but the tear was blood and it made me wonder... I think anyone would have. I wondered. How? How was that possible? So I thought maybe I had blacked out... that I had added the tear ...in a coma or a waking dream I, I don't know but there was no paint anywhere there were no brushes. So I looked at the time no minutes had passed. The time was as it should be. That's when... ...when I realized I had been shot... ...a stray bullet from outside. ...like you said that gang war thing but I ask you officer, I mean what are the odds? What are the chances... ...chances that my blood, that my blood would splatter like that... perfect, a tear on a painted canvas. That's what scares me officer. Not the gangs. What scares me officer what really scares me is that painting.
23~10~2014 Sponsor: Kelly Deschler Contest Name: Ghost Stories

Details | Horror Poem | |

A Demon Confesses

A Demon Confesses


I shun the light and do so cast the stone, 
rot the meat , ravenously eat the bone
Cut my way deep in every man that falls,
eat my thrills as my victim mercy calls!

Shadows, adorning my cloaks worn with pride,
once entered I rot the mind as I ride
Pain and agony my pets serve so well,
my purpose, sending 'em all right to Hell!

Long claws my daggers I do finely shine,
accept my gifts, your soul then is all mine
Dark laughter is my sweet joy letting loose,
long is you wail, your head is in my noose!

I too, serve my dark master very well
loyal demon, freed from the bowels of Hell!

Robert Lindley,
 no date- Edited today, shortened to a sonnet 
written so very long ago!

Note: 
A taste of dark,
demons a reality so very stark,
I write safely within this brilliant light
spewing truth out to win another great fight..-08/24/2014

Details | Horror Poem | |

Blind Panic

Blind panic

There was a warning came one day
It said disaster’s on its way
An old volcano in the distance
It could erupt in any instance

The molten ash came pouring out
As neighbouring village was in doubt
Folk were running to and fro
It seems they had nowhere to go.

Buildings were cracking one by one
Blocking out the golden sun
This thing did turn our day to night
As everyone was filled with fright

As the Earth did turn to lava
Many prayed to the holy father.

Vera Duggan  16 August 2014.





Details | Horror Poem | |

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 | Horror Poem | |

Humble Pie

He prepared the pie
With greatest care
Within the pot 
My brains and hair
For hers had been
A lofty perch 
Just a peg or two
Would never do

Cremated remains
Formed the shell
Into the plate
My crushed bones fell
I could still see
But could not yell
The pie's aroma
A story to tell

My innards baked
Hour by hour
The smell of blood
And blackened flour
Words poured in
Enhanced the flavour
The humble pie 
For her to savour

Fork to mouth
My body consumed 
From the plate
My heart exhumed
The baker says 
She's eating crow
The taste is bitter
She eats the pie slow

The true recipe
He does not show
Humble pies plentiful
Stacked row on row
The victims many
Some you may know
If he invites you
I beg you not to go!


For Sheri's Plentitude of Pie Contest, 

I went with a halloween twist.


Details | Horror Poem | |

THE OPAQUEST NARRATIVE

In Michigan, the weather can change for the worst in October.
This particular Halloween came a blizzaring.
The lights went out and in a dark, dark room, candles were lit; therein, the opaquest 
narrative was captured.
* With the shape of With figment With look I will invent the human. Through the mind Via light With aspect The being I will project. I saw sadness. It stared directly at me. I gazed back. It begins to glare. I looked away. Why am I afraid? It is an ape, a primate. With child fists, I walked toward this apelike creature and strike out. Finally, I saw more than eyes and it pounces. It is a little child as a man. My hands represented some insight. Would we fight? ** The universe stood as earth. Solar we are to the sky above. Humanity shouts with a hoarse voice. Man, woman, and child stands as an echo. God sent the demons. The sinners are all of us. Through commandment of what Hell is Heaven is not. Demons are with God. The Pacific Ocean is the end of the world. It runs east and west. Why do we not investigate this? [Because our capabilities are limited!] Are we afraid of what we will find? We discovered each other and now we hesitate. Procrastination is a thing that delays knowledge. Are we wise to seek? Demons are with God. Are we? *** Body [body] {Body}! Gut (gut)! Skin and bones wake up! I am a reincarnation of that that is not known. Many have come before me but none was as I am. I am the body for the human to gut a man. However, women are now involved and they want to be in the belly. Instinctive they are but this was only for man to do. Why do they want to be that damned fool? Unconscious to the world that they are within, one would ask self why they want to be like men. The answer becomes to fit in. What if there is one left out? The answer becomes their bodies have been gutted and they are only GI. **** The Moon has no Gods. The Sun is what speaks to us. It tells us prophesy and what the world shall become. We are mongoloid, brown and bronzed spiritual to our existence. Our tribes are of North America. A hundred plus [we] stand[s]. Our land is our strength. We fought. We won. We lost. Died from disease but gave birth once again. Our population stands now and we are healthy. The European man has given our wisdom and knowledge. Our minds are set on our economic growth. We will become political minded. Five hundred nations are we those lost tribes of our history. ***** The mockery of man is a stance of incorrectness. It transforms through government and states that your freedoms are not anything to believe in. You, as people, are nothing but possessions and no one knows who is blessed. You are lucky to be here. Your way of life is given by our nation’s wealth. We are brought together as immigrants and the natives of this country are indigenous. We cannot pretend that we are more than that. We must pedestal ourselves to unity and know that people are only structure to adhere. One came for liberation. Others came via slavery. Nomads were unbound. They let them in yet they were said to be uncivilized. Today we are unified. We are the United States of America bound, bonded, and realized. {We are gratis; free to form our own lives.} ______________________________________________| PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 13, 2014!

Details | Horror Poem | |

Halloween,Halloween

I shiver at the thought of being attacked by owls,
My home infested by Carols' pesky trolls,
A fire breathing dragon,flying around in the lobby,
Or a hand crawling around searching for it's body,
A hunchback with six eyes in his head,
Or zombies walking around calling themselves,the living dead,,,

I am scared of bats,turning into vampires,
Gorgons hopping around,throwing balls of fire,
Werewolves with scars,Chuckies with stitches,
And that big hairy bump on the nose of witches,
Blood running from the nozzle when I turn on the faucet,
Or skeletons and the Boogieman playing cards in the closet,,,

Right now i'm in a dark,dark room,hiding under the bed,
Features of my face growing taller,changing the shape
of my head,
Fingernails becoming fangs,eyes turning red,
GRRRR!!!it's HOLLOWEEN again,a night of feast
for the rising dead,,,


      




Details | Horror Poem | |

A Journey Through Eternity

What is the point, what is the reason 
For a new beginning- fresh Genesis? 
To grow, expand; explore new regions, 
And find the path that leads to Bliss? 
What will come; what is to be? 
(Such a fleeting, elusive answer!) 
Who could Love this Monster in Me-
A Creature full of Hate and Anger?
Mary Shelley- her gothic Horror,
With Percy drowned at Sea!
I am my Soul's sole Explorer-
A Journey through Eternity...


Details | Horror Poem | |

The Witch That Sought To Curse Me

The Witch That Sought To Curse Me


Pain that cuts as a chill to the bone
she, she beats my heart upon her stone
Winged angels she defies and sends away
her curses eat into my night and day

No forgiveness does her heart ever give
as her cries follow me wherever I live
Had I only yielded  to her deep desires
her imps would still be in her fires

Nights, the hordes descend upon my head
evil blackness engulfs my shaking bed
Her minions sent to exact dark revenge
any more, my mind will become unhinged

Her crawling snakes hissing so foul
can see them striking out even now
Soon my heart feels her teeth bite
I refuse to yield with all my might

This witch was an angel that did sing
until I put on her evil marriage ring
Tonight torture will be dealt a blow
found, a cure to make her swiftly go

Verses to set like upon darkened like 
light's own mercy is about to strike
She is now bound by her own wicked glee
by my cutting her image into a dead tree

I used great wisdom from the Holy three
sought greater powers to set my Soul free...

Robert J. Lindley, 10-06-2014

Note: Inspired in part by the results of my 
second marriage and its ending.
Presented in honor of the dark season approaching now.

Details | Horror Poem | |

The Feed

 

(From Lestat, my vampire chronicles poems) Silently the night again by me creeps in... Evoking all these confusing feelings I need to conceal Thoughts and dreams filled of doom, all of sudden begin To change me into this hideous creature I cannot din This thirst for new blood is in me now reveal Silently the night by me creeps in... I live on human blood and that's my curse, my sin Lurking in the shadows to get my next meal Thoughts and dreams filled of doom all of sudden begin All my life dreams had just fade in... Now I'd become this monster I come to repeal Silently the night again by me creeps in... Going for a kill every night again and again Knowing things all the time I cannot reveal Thoughts and dreams filled of doom of sudden begin... I,Louis,doing what I have to, to survive in My life had been sealed with things I have to conceal Silently the night again by me creeps in... Thoughts and dreams filled of doom all of sudden begin... Dorian Petersen Potter aka ladydp2000 aka ladylove copyright2005 November,30,2014

Details | Horror Poem | |

A Cold Dark Yellow Unhallowed Moon

A cold dark yellow unhallowed moon smiles beguilingly
In the pitch black starless and cold empty night sky 
Suckling upon the blood and the very life force of 
Pure innocence, light, and goodness . . . .

Fear stirs eerily in the forlorn sound of a fog horn that’s
Blowing and crying a sad echo haunting far in the distance
It warns of the imminent arrival of a malevolent Hellspawn 
Force of absolute unmitigated evil . . . The Phantom Vampire.

As the Phantom Vampire materializes from nowhere in the 
Darkest shade of night blanketed in the thickest of fog and 
The coldest of night air . . . One can sense with utter fear 
And foreboding shivering sounds touching from the shadows
Creeping softly cold fingers down the spine with walking 
Fingers crawling inside a prism of frozen ice and in a mist 
Of souls crying in the presence of demons while yearning lust 
Of one blanket covering the sky’s face painted showing 
Hell’s own hideous face—an exquisite evil and a spirit
Drunken and moaning in an eternal fiery abyss of 
Suffering and howling sounding their own lust for pain 
Great darkness grips them who walk this troubled Earth
Without joy casting happiness to the lepers always and
Forever chained to the darkness and eating out hope
In the very end . . . . 

From this spider’s web and nest of dark perpetual evil
The Phantom Vampire transforms himself from ethereal
Form to his human form quite frightening indeed for
Any human being gazing at his grim countenance and
His most fiery red eyes glaring intently whenever he
Encounters an unsuspecting soul . . . and the sight of 
His razor-sharp canine teeth bring on convulsive fear 
In the hearts and minds of his intended victims . . . .

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) 
(Free Verse poetic form)

Details | Horror Poem | |

The Tumid River of Acheron

The Tumid River of Acheron (the journey) Part 1

Dark the tumid, rushing waters flow
where man most wisely fears to go
Liquid blackness sings of epic pain
torture, misery and cries of insane
Echoes of evil Eperius in the West
shadow realm where evil never rests

Black ship of Kharon eternally sail
into the sunless land of a dark hell
Land those lost , family and friend
exists for all wicked women and men
Black abyss where Apollo never walks
lost souls ripped by screeching hawks

Forever filled by rowboat conveyed
miserable, crying souls are relayed
Crossing the tarn of Acheron then
cursing future torments for all men
Seething waters set to ever separate
those lost into future tortured Fate

Father of evil waters from which sprang
the Styx of which man's curses rang
Flowing stream holding back evil foul 
where tortured spirits scream and howl
Acheron, into a lake of scorching heat
where demons play with souls they eat

Delivered shadows fall on prayers cast
vanity briefly soothes, forever lasts
Prayers sinking like river cast stones
dreams birthed from dead skin and bones
Waters that wrap around Haides evil realm
with Daimon, the dark Lord at the helm

Gushing forth from the bowels of rock
mighty blackened waters rise to shock
Upon its moving mass of wretched stink
poison so lethal no mortal man may drink
Kharon, the ferryman awaits at the oars
to deliver the lost upon evil's shores

Far below the path of Mariandyni coast
the Acheron ferries victims to its host
Loaded with spirits of cries and moans
Kharon laughs at all the misery groans
From the south shore of the black sea
in sun's light never again will they be

Many are the tales of Acheron's fame
its victims steeped in sin and shame
Anguish rises as dark waters deliver
the wretched lost to painfully quiver
In this dark abhorrent , torturing Hell
those embracing lustful sin into evil fell

Robert J. Lindley, 09-13-2014

note:  This is part one. The journey into HAIDES 
by way of crossing the Styx. The river Styx is 
actually an off shoot of Acheron that splits into
the Styx and the Cocytus. 

Part two now has two lines written. It will be titled ,
Haides and Tormented Souls (the Dwelling).. 
I have no preset limit to the second part, may be 
longer or shorter. I suspect it will be even longer.
I hope the readers enjoy this write. I wanted to do 
something dark and move away from all my love, romance 
and Nature writes. A bit of variety to stir my 
imagination...

Details | Horror Poem | |

On Halloween Night

On Halloween Night
Zany zombies lumber and stumble on streets, As vain vampires stalk for bloody treats. Syrupy blood oozes from water faucets, And gory goonies crawl out of cob-webbed closets.
Best time of year for the terrifying undead, As menacing monsters lurk under every child's bed. Ghastly ghouls and fearsome ghosts appear, While ominous shadows with red eyes hover and glare.
Wily witches with dark demons gleefully gloat, And sorrowful souls suffer in purgatory and float. Too late for confession - No chance for absolution.
No one can hear your soundless screams, For this is much worse than your worst nightmarish dreams. There’s no escape from this unholy hell. This is where eternal evils dwell!

Details | Horror Poem | |

Darker than the Cavern, No Relief

Darker than the Cavern, No Relief

Darker
than the Cavern
opening gate into Hell,
the lost Souls, dead nights
with such unimaginable delights.

They seek mercy
where none can be had
an ending never found,
lost forever deep underground.

No Altar
to burn incense
a dark pit into agony lie,
caverns , dark and deep to cry.

Moans
that wail in 
pleas unfulfilled,
repentance was never willed.

Dark city
Hades in action
forever gifting torment,
upon those lost in banishment.

No sleep
just louder cries
hideous sorrowful wails
where forgiveness forever fails.

Robert J. Lindley, 09-27-2014

Note: I woke this morning from a dream of the
 underworld. David's passing was on my mind last
night and this dream shouted out a warning to me.
Too late, too late is a terrible place to be...

Details | Horror Poem | |

What Fred Did


The scriptural injunction
to cut off whatever causeth a man to sin
made Fred do himself irreparably in
with thoughtless compunction.
What was meant, bemoaned his wife,
was something smaller than life.

Details | Horror Poem | |

AWAKENFAKE

"Awaken Fake"
By J.R. Thornton

Happiness 
          Crooked smiles 
                    Courtesy laughs 
          Deception of comrades 
          Expecting nothing less 
                                                                      You speculate 
                                                            You criticize 
          Asshole appointed judgment 
                              For me to hate 
                    Spewing out your lies 
Superior situations  -           you invent 
          Arguments                     -                     issues to debate 
                              Your stupidity I despise 
                    I WAKE UP                               I REALIZE
This wretched place you create 
          Phony smiles - vomit lies 
                    Another brick 
                              To build a crypt 
For when your bullshit finally fucking dies 



EXPLANATION: 

This one's pretty self-explanitory.  I think I wrote it some time in 2006 while at a "friends" annoyed and intoxicated.