Long Vampires Poems
Long Vampires Poems. Below are the most popular long Vampires by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vampires poems by poem length and keyword.
Alas, you may have noticed if
you’ve looked around the world these days,
you don’t see werewolves or zombies,
no vampires or mummies at play.
The whole world seems to have lost that
thade of mystery we once knew,
The creatures that stalked us of old
have become remarkably few.
There’s still a few out there, I know,
good old Dogman up in Michigan,
but for many of these creatures
their wild days have come to an end.
Now what’s the reason for this loss?
What has brought about this strange thing?
That’s easy enough to explain,
we humans are great at killing!
Yes, just as with normal animals,
we kill off what might be a threat,
something threaten might endanger out lives
is something that we can’t abet.
So just like predators and small pox
we saw the job was done,
heck, we published how to kill them
in all of our horror fiction!
Stakes, silver, garlic, and headshots,
we let all the world know how to win,
to the point out nights have become safe,
free of all the creatures of sin.
But if you still want to see them
then I have some good news for you,
you can see them all down at the
Endangerer Horror Species Zoo!
Now we got ghouls, goblins, wendigos,
your Demons, your banshees, and sprites,
we got all of the B-team monsters,
but most folks come for the big five.
I guess we should start with the werewolf,
each must roam in his own separate pen,
their spacious and lined in silver leaf,
we don’t want them getting out again.
The only ones left are the old ones,
so old they no longer transform,
they just stay werewolves all the time,
apparently this is the norm.
whatever the case, it’s good for us,
people can see them fur and all,
through a foot-thick one way mirror
that forms the enclosure front wall.
These eight foot beasts eat messily,
yet people gather when they feed,
yhey act appalled by the whole thing,
Yet they consistently watch the scene.
And when those lycans howl loud
it pieces right down to the soul,
ten times the fear of a normal wolf,
the spine tingles, and blood runs cold.
But people like feeling afraid
so long as they know they are safe,
sometimes we’ll drop a rabbit in there
so folks can watch the beast give chase.
Why do so few of these beast remain?
think silver bullets plus machine gun,
most of them now are heads on a wall,
we’re luck to have more than one...
CONTINUES IN PART II.
...So why do we keep ghosts in here
when by the day many folks die?
Well, you see, it’s technology,
it tears them apart from the inside.
Since they are merely energy
all the fields from our gadgets and toys
scatter their essence all about,
it’s a fate free ghosts can’t avoid.
These ones here we were lucky to save,
and we need to find more all the time,
some go to heaven, others to hell,
each morn we know not what we’ll find!
Nearby is the mummy’s lair,
and it causes controversy,
some say that they shouldn’t be here,
that they are just dressed-up zombies.
Others claim it’s a magic thing,
which makes them a whole other clade,
I honestly don’t’ care that much,
the people come see them in spades.
Some were even Egyptian pharaohs,
though which, we’re not really sure,
professors have tried to talk to them,
to see what history they can learn.
Hollywood has rented them out
for their movies, and they pay so well,
sometimes they seem to try to speak,
though what they say, no one can tell.
Most people like to hear them moan,
like they did in the films of old,
did you know mummies really do that?
And if they catch you they’ll grab hold?
Sadly, they do not do much more.
We don’t see them often these days,
not many folks still mummify,
and the old ones have been grave-robbed,
in the wild they don’t survive.
Keeping them stocked up with linen
makes all the zookeeper’s tired,
but let’s down to the big show,
the place where we keep the vampires.
Now these guys are a unique case,
since they’re not critters, but our guests,
they’re sentient like human beings,
to lock them would be to oppress.
We build them big apartments here,
with a back-room facing the zoo,
we pay them to visit with folks,
and tell lots of stories to you.
Since vampires are immortal
so many great tales can they share,
want to know how Jesus Christ died?
Well our guy Julius was there!
They can leave any time of course,
some of them even punch the clock.
Wilhelm is a security guard,
walks the night shift like any cop.
Some thing, but won’t he feed on folks?
It hasn’t been that was for years,
since transfusions and blood banks came
there has been no reason to fear.
They no longer had to kill people,
staying alive didn’t mean murder,
they’d get their pints, go on their way,
no reason to bite folks or disturb...
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
I am dreaming the past
Past when KBC was the only station
Each morning started with the anthem of the nation
We had to know your intention
Before saying anything through the station
Each anchor had a level of education
While talent was just an addition
Any deviation
Captured the important attention
Of the head of the nation
Dreaming my past
Is all I want to do last
Streams of dreams I rather forget fast
Like dreams from my father
That choices have consequences
A grammatical sentence that became our sentence
Is every correctly stated statement correct?
This kind that litters my mind
Making me bitter
Tearing my heart into litres of tears
These dreams make me shy
Shy to try mention my name
My name that brings me shame
Shame I cant tame
Cant tame because my mind is lame
Tell me why my kind cant cry
When all I dream are tongues of fire
From gangs on hire
With orders from higher
Higher rot that burns like fire.
Dreaming that I cant have money in my pocket
Without getting something in their jacket
Vampires so scary
Scattered in my neighborhood
Thirsty for the last drop of my blood
Limiting my limitless potential
Potential so essential
For resource mobilization
With equal allocation not hurting expectation
For relocation before suffocation.
Dreams to revitalize my generation
A possible solution for this situation
In transformation of my nation
To grow without corruption
That is like sugar
Sweeter it becomes
And disaster it welcomes
But I dare dreams
Of peaceful elections
An end to preventable infections
Through certified injections
And an education without leakage
As a privilege
For everyone in my village
Laying my head on the pillow
Feels like my heart becomes hollow
From the beams of dreams that follow
Makes me want to jump from the window
And fall on the ground so low
Flickering pain into my bone marrow
Afraid it could happen again on the morrow
What do you see in your dreams?
Streams of dreams that my head cant keep
Make me wish for beams of dreams to turn the leaf
Of people who have a resolve and a belief
That we are better together
And we need each other
Without a bother
Of clannism
Of tribalism
Of racism
But a nation of inclusion
By implementation of all legislation
In word and spirit
Envisioned in our constitution
That beams our dream.
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!!)
The bloodthirsty reign of Angelus had ended, or so the story has been told,
that after feasting upon and killing the beloved daughter of a gypsy family,
the gypsy shaman cursed Angelus with a soul.
Damned to immortally walk the earth, never to know or pursue happiness,
for if a moment of joy were to be experienced,
it would release the hold of the curse.
His evil darkness would once again return.
His soul once again would be lost.
The power of Angelus's soul and conscience
would avoid this at any cost.
Blood, his only sustenance can no longer be attained from taking human life.
Surrounded by so many a human temptation
is the eternal challenge of Angelus's immortal cursed life.
He now must feed on the blood of vermin, chickens, cattle and swine.
never to know or experience true happiness
or evil Angelus will return big time.
*
"What's happening to me? Something's horrifically wrong.
Why do I have this overwhelming sense of fear that I no longer belong?
What is this crippling feeling that seems to surround me?
Is this what is known as being afraid?
I am Angelus. Things like fear are alien to me.
Just ask any,...just ask any of the many,...just ask,
all the helpless victims I so mercilessly slain.
Sometimes they wouldn't scream. They were too petrified,
but children, children always screamed.
My God, the poor frightened children would always cry before they died.
Why do I now see and feel all the terror I instilled
on all these faces who now haunt me.
My God, all these faces of all these people I killed.
You'd think that with my many centuries past,..
...the past which boasts of all the horrible things I have done.
You'd think that with all I have butchered, killed and maimed
that I wouldn't be able to remember every single last one.
My God, what is happening? Where have I been?
Why was I this monster so consumed with the total embracing of sin?"
He hovered in the corner alone, frightened and cold.
All of his past horrors committed continued to unfold.
The vampire all vampires feared was no more.
He was now cursed with a soul
and the power of conscience is a power that evil can never endure.
The bloodthirsty reign of Angelus had ended,
but there's still more story of this vampire to be told.
Such as his quest for redemption by protecting the helpless,
as Angel, The Vampire with a Soul.
It was quite a surprise to us
when monsters came out of the night,
the beasts and bad guys of legends
who for so long gave us a fright.
We thought they lived on movie screens,
pulpy books, and local folklore,
until they came to prey on us,
and we all learned that they were much more.
The panic, at first, was intense,
folks were dying, it seemed surreal,
vampires, zombies, werewolves, ghosts,
and other such beasties were real.
They were as bad as legend said,
but we soon figured out one truth,
the ways to kill them in legend
really worked—we knew what to do.
The werewolves were the easiest,
you just bought some silver-tip rounds,
given all this country’s hunters
it took two years to gun them down.
As for ghosts, if you do not know,
ectoplasm is diffuse matter,
floating in air, it is easy prey
for the common vacuum cleaner.
Then dump it into a furnace,
and watch the ghostie burn away,
old houses everywhere were safe,
no more hauntings came into play.
Vampires could blend in the best,
of the monsters they killed the most,
UV flashlights or smeared garlic
was all it took to make them toast.
The zombies, good lord, they were slow,
and not all that hard to destroy,
army snipers would take head shots,
and attack choppers were deployed.
They’d shoot down with their miniguns,
guaranteed they’d catch zombie head,
since the undead liked to cluster,
an easy target for sprayed lead.
We even had a kaiju-type
dragged its lumbering form onshore,
just as big as a skyscraper,
a three-hundred foot carnivore.
We fired antiship missiles,
half-dozen of them did the trick,
set up some coastal air patrols
to take care of the beasts right quick.
In retrospect, it all makes sense,
after all, we are humankind,
we’ve been waring since we could walk,
countless weapons came from our mind.
We’ve killed sabertooths and smallpox,
run down real threats without pity,
killed tens of thousands in battle,
even nuked two of our cities.
What’s a werewolf compared to that?
What threat’s a vampire these days?
Those beasts should be afraid of us,
since we always find ways to slay.
Maybe we need better monsters,
a challenge for our evolved state,
something that can inspire fear,
the kind we can appreciate—
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Raisin just stared at the chaos ahead
A kitten, confused as she sat there in dread
The world has gone mad, all the people have flipped
She glared at a window where blood and gore dripped
Folk wearing specs that have eyeballs on springs
Rubber bats hanging on elastic strings
Teeth that are pointed that vampires call fangs
A sycamore tree where a skeleton hangs
Raisin leapt back as a gremlin passed by
His mother ignoring the stake in her eye
Even our kitten was quite unconvinced
When someone approached with a brain that was minced
Green painted people with bolts through their necks
“Give us a treat or you’ll suffer a hex.”
Bedsheets with lights in and black holes for eyes
Sound effects belting out groans, sighs and cries
Raisin considered how humans survived
When all of this subterfuge is so contrived
Only a dog who might fall for it all
Might sit there and wait for his master to call
Pumpkins on doorsteps with faces carved in
A Skeleton’s arm hanging out of a bin
One man is walking though he should be dead
Because of the arrow stuck right through his head
Raisin rushed in through the cat flap and panted
“The humans have all gone bananas,” she ranted.
“The dominant species on Earth - it is said
Is out there pretending that they are all dead.”
Rum said, “Don’t panic, there’s nothing to fear,
Today is precisely two months till new year.
If Ronald Rat hadn’t said what that might mean
I wouldn’t have known that tonight’s Halloween.”
Raisin eyed Rum with suspicion and said,
“This three months of craziness fills me with dread,
For any time now, once again they will try
To send cardboard rockets up into the sky.
They’ll get tiny bombs and they’ll set them alight
And watch them explode in the chill of the night
It all says to me that they’re all round-the-bend.”
Then Rum said, “That’s not where the ‘crazy’ will end,
“For soon they’ll be wearing white beards and red suits
And walking on rooftops in black welly boots
But they won’t use ladders as you might suppose
But chimneys and reindeer and one big red nose.”
The door opened wide and their human stood there
Holding a fake severed head by its hair
And Rum rolled his eyes as he said with a laugh,
“Which is why dogs have owners, but we cats have staff.”
Masses forming classes boarding:
Corral Gates of slaughter, hauling, sorting- human beings-aborting
our innocent(sons and daughters)
Bishops Queens and Cannon Fodder-
their crop of sheep sacrifice to image of the Beast
es cargo for the Elite Machine; of
Underground in plain site, lined
in Streets of Gold of their El Dorado deep-sites.
Our lives for sell, sold.
Titanic-transport of souls clandestine sport of spoil
Moonlight witches pissing on fertile soil
Mid-night
Their platform of unsee able points of light inconceivable blight
A ship of fools run ary
By heretics
making waves rushing blood-*** noise Vampires sucking dry
Kendrick and Cyborg sex ploys
Buoys and curls pinging toys waving
Bye to your rights
While your eyes are sewn tight
As celebrity whores say "come get me boys"
and the message boards are alight
Why are you so dead inside?
River Styx is taking you for a ride?
You'd be at 666 Flags if Apathy was water, water on the brain slide
The Final Frontier
The Motive is clear
You've been contacted by Demons
By the "Art of the Deal"
In the guise of...Behind the sky's
glove...chemical lines drawn by mechanical sky d(r)oves, to obscure the happenings above;writers on the storm exhausting their lies and Political heroic acts of altruistic "Love" the "Dragonborn." The Kingdom of Mourn.
A Game of thrones a game of bones non_chalantly thrown.
Hung in the balance, drawn and quartered by AI Phalanx algorithm.
Clouding the mind.
Not seeing flashing signs-
"*** poison kind ...of malice-flashing in neon."
Hiding behind crown Masons-ring brotherhood blood and chalice.
Unplugged radar, telethon tears.
Honing your sites ip and your fears, cook and rinse till juices run clear.
Till you are stuck in the hole with Alice.
Why are you so dead inside?
River Styx is taking you for a ride?
You'd be at 666 Flags if Apathy was water, water on the brain slide
Hide behind your tools
Crafty handiwork to snoop
On the people for the people
Of who?
Of the Media, spoonfed search-the Wickedpedia
Omit what doesn't fit, the narrative
and feed- -retrofit the needia
Face condoms up when what you
are touching is as unclean, as Cardi D and the itinerary of the beast, riding another beast,
biometrics and vaccine
I knew that you were waiting Somewhere between the last war And the next kiss And that you where dreaming of sweet angels and vampires Because they have always known In spite of John Cameron Swayze and timex Or the mechanical of Mickey Mouse That the nights are always longer I knew that you were waiting For the summer to turn to silk again And carry you away before the next big flood arrived Before the thunder and after the lightning Before the smoke and after the fire Before the dance and after the song Before the hope and after the the prayer I knew that you where waiting Like an eagle's wing and a child's song I was waiting too
Marc Spectar is Moon Knight . . .
the traveler . . . the pathfinder . . . the defender
protecting and avenging the innocent
the son of a rabbi
with D.I.D.
(Dissociated Identity Disorder)
~he is actually a fictional Marvel Comic character,
who worked as a mercenary, until he was mortally injured and died
in the shadow of Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the moon ~
he was reborn . . . The Left Fist of Khonshu
to fight evil and defend all who travel at night
from vampires, from monsters and from super-assassins
Marc's alter ego Moon Knight does the fighting,
takes the punches, he is the one who spills the blood
wearing a white armored costume, well, sometimes
black and white, and sometimes all black
~but they are not alone
Marc has other alter egos, Steven Grant, billionaire businessman
Jake Lockley, the violent taxi driver, and Mr. Knight,
the suited detective and police consultant, and many more egos ~
trauma in his childhood resulted in the D.I.D
he hears the voices of his other identities
has spent some time in a mental hospital
sometimes, he chains himself to his bed at night
and it has be suggested he has brain damage
yet, he is a closed fist . . . made weapon
he is "The Left Fist of Khonshu" protecting the innocent
~ fighting evil with strength, combat, technology,
detective work, tolerance for pain, willpower and experience
with the help of his alter egos who gather the intel
he has died many times . . . but has be resurrected each time ~
. . . he likes his vodka, ice cold, and has a girlfriend too
a pretty normal guy . . . until Moon Knight
The Left Fist of Khonshu is needed . . .
__________________________
October 02, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/The Left Fist of Khonshu
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1491-758-02
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Moon Knight
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged 10/18/2022
First Place