Pleasure is ephemeral, but at least misery shares some of this same quality.
And as we know, misery loves company.
Don’t we all, misery? Company. We would all love some company.
But that’s the misery of it,
What we love is often out of reach,
Hard to snag,
Pleasurable, and thus
Ephemeral.
Monsieur L'Vampyre INVITATION
I pray thee cast thy lot into mine own,
becoming dead, as I've become for thee,
to walk the night, to know you walk alone,
forever, lest you come and walk with me.
Or someone else, who's melted to your charm,
who sorely needs what only we can give,
the curse of life, forever free from harm,
not knowing death, but only how to live.
To sleep the day, and rise up in the night,
to suck the blood of those we've barely met,
all in the name of love, we make the bite,
and in a pain too soon we all forget.
I pray thee lay thyself down to my fold,
relinquishing your right to growing old.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
ARTERIAL BITE ---- MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE
Has not my love been welcomed in delight
when no one else could woo the heart of thee,
so what recourse has moved you to this night
of holding back the love you promised me?
No mere bloodsucking's what I have in mind
but like the finest wine--appreciate
what love has layed here at your feet to find,
enjoy-- or when you cum, you'll cum too late.
No jugular has put out all this much
to princes of the dark, forget their claim!
now I place no demands on you as such;
to choose my love, you've but to say my name.
So lay you down, and bare where I should feed;
your artery, where flows the blood I need.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
VIRGIN OF RUE ST SEVERIN Monsieur L'Vampyre
Into my deepest heart of hardest stone
unyielding to what love could ever be
contempt is all there is, for all I've known
so if you come with love, come not to me!
But if your mind is set, and love's a fire
then I could welcome you and quench the flame
for less is love, and more is your desire
and I will lay you down to be the game;
But love! Don't make me laugh and waste the night
I'd babble like a fool before it's done
and better off I'd be to face the light
and face the pain of life in mid-day sun!
And so you must beware the truth of me
before your love consumes what love should be.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown
Monsieur L'Vampyre's Nook
You're lost into the dark it's plain to see
out searching for a place to lay your head
away from cold, perhaps right next to me,
though if you knew, 'twould be your greatest dread;
all Paris is aware when death awaits
at this the darkest nook down by the Seine,
unnumbered are the souls cast to their fates
claimed in the dark, and never seen again;
there's blood to suck and energy to flow
out from the lost and into those who feed;
so be aware, the wise will never go
where undead wait for what's their greatest need.
But also, there is something all around,
perhaps the greatest love you've ever found.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
THE WEDDING OF MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE
I make you mine tonight, to have and hold,
to lie forever in this love I feel,
I bring an end to ever growing old,
and close your eyes, to all that is not real.
I give you love, that others never know!
The joy of life found only in its' end!
And dressed in love, we go, as we must go,
into the dark! The night! The only friend!
I give you death! Then take you ev'rywhere!
To know all things; and answer to no-one!
To have it all! To do as you would dare!
within the dark, where life has surely gone!
I make you mine! I sink my teeth into
your waiting flesh, and drink the love of you!
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
DEAD EYES - Monsieur L'Vampyre
I looked into the eyes of Death
to see if she is you;
so dressed in magic of the night,
like time can only do;
there in our dream where life is real
as written in the Word,
became our haunting Melody,
the sweetest ever heard.
Her invitation was to die,
becoming Born Again;
there in her pleading was the truth
as it has always been.
Deep in her eyes remains a place
I found to sleep and hide,
secluded from all things I've known
back on the other side;
while life the constant dream goes on
as if there is no end,
until we meet her face to face
and know Death is Our friend.
And she will show you all you've been,
then kiss it all goodby,
so you'll forget, except for love,
not knowing how to die.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
LA FEMME de TRICHERIE - Monsieur L'Vampyre
I must confess to nights of indiscreet
but Madam, my intent was having fun,
and now your eyes tell me, as sure they meet,
what you desire is more than love has done;
does not your heart lean to a burning flame
as much as what your life's accustomed to?
For any fool to play this losing game,
they've got to need the bite as much as you;
and so you choose to look so very deep
to raise the heat in me, and make me know
that what you want's a love you will not keep
more than one night of it, and then you go.
Qu'est-ce que vous desirer--I must submit
or all my life I'll be regretting it!
© ron wilson aka Veebdosa the Doylestown Poet
COLD NIGHTS IN PARIS
There's never been another dark on earth
quite like the dark of Paris under snow,
where love, it comes and goes, for what it's worth,
and no demands are made, when time to go.
Where lovers slip into the hiding night,
oblivious to cold or freezing rain,
anticipating love, that surely might
warm up their lives for just a night, again.
And love's a little warmer, from the cold;
it makes two hearts to join and keep a beat;
and warms the lives of both the young and old,
who find their love with-in their body heat.
Though easy comes the love--they hold it dear,
without it cold is something they would fear.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
THE SECRET LOVE OF MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE
It's the secret you told never young never old,
to her eyes when she wanted to see
and the deepest of you was a thing that she knew
though you hid, it was all meant to be.
In the plan of all things for all beggers and kings
in a manner of speaking it's free
but the price is so high that you sell never buy
and she needs to know how it could be.
There's a song you have heard and she sings every word
you must sing them along in her key
and her voice soft and clear, is the sound you will hear
through the rest of your life willingly.
If you touched her you'd die or melt into the sky
so you hide everything that you know
from her eyes that have seen all that it's ever been
when she looked then you let it all show.
She's the dream in the night and the dream in daylight
and the dream is where ever you go
like a mist in your mind and you never can find
any end to the dream that you know.
So you hide in your shell every word that you tell
every time that she looks there to see
and she wonders at you what you never can do
how you cling to what never can be.
....© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
WHORE IN THE FOG
All evening fog is settled from the ground,
not right in where it goes, nor where it's found;
the Seine makes distance to each barren tree
unmeasured from the mind to what should be,
and blended to the world that's all around.
And from the limestone walls, echos the tap
of femininity, in evening wrap;
she's hurried, lest the night finds her alone
and vulnerable to Paris she's not known;
yet she's desirous of what couldn't hap.
The corner street lamps lend their halo'd light
grotesque in their own way, as if they might
leap out of time and drag her by the throat
and cast her down into a timeless moat,
where she would die alone 'for ends this night.
She clutches to her breasts, where minds go mad,
as if it's all the love they've ever had,
but she will cry all night, when she's alone
into the pillow love has never known,
and that's what makes her tale so very sad.
Her plea's for love, that doesn't have to end,
like only poets deem to comprehend,
but all she finds are bodies falling on
what she has sold from evening to the dawn,
and not a one could even be a friend.
.....© 2003 ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Death Of My Lover - Monsieur L'Vampyre
Out of my bleakest darkest memory
that I'd endowed to what must be
there came a burning to my mind
as cold as life to me.
For all the will I had, and how I tried,
to find a place my soul could hide
where I'd be safe from all alone;
short of my lunacy.
In all the secrets of my love's desire
that first showed with her love for hire
I never knew her failing heart
would take her life from me.
In mine own madness when she died away
the tears I shed were night and day
in search of where she might have gone
where life just doesn't see.
There's not a thought I didn't call to mind
as possibilities for me to find
the place she died into that day--
and there -- love might send me.
© Ron Wilson aka veebdosa the doylestown poet
MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE HEADSTONE
All through the day my self doth sleep
layed to the dark and out of sight
not thinking how my soul may keep
nor if I raise up to the night;
I rest in dark that's cold and deep,
my casket's lid sealed up all tight
my only prayer is death for me
although I know, it cannot be.
The curse of death not ever more
was layed on me and all my seed,
it shackles me to life--the bore,
and makes blood all I ever need
except I also hunger for
the heat of love where-in I feed.
But underneath my casket's stone
I sleep all day, and sleep alone.
MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE - Lés Emotion
My time flows like the Seine down to the sea
except there is no ocean ending me
and like a river I must keep
emotion running ever deep,
as I go on through my eternity.
How long's omega into where I go?
Much longer than the Seine will ever flow,
and through the visions failing death
that ends all things, in just a breath,
and through the end of everything we know.
I must not let my mind to come unfit,
by dwelling on these things--not for a bit;
no matter how bad things may seem
to think on them, I'd have to scream
not knowing how I'd come to live with it.
And so I must forget those I have seen,
whom I have loved, and places I have been,
and lay all friends to yesterday,
for love of them would make my way
more difficult, than if I wiped it clean.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
PIANO GIRL - Mssr K'Vampyre
So like unto a song I'd play
an iv'ry pressed by me
cascading through a polished night
you are the melody,
the summer rain still sings of you
such notes that blend so well
into my breast where breathes the rhyme
of all the words I tell;
you'll always be that vital part
each thought I ever write,
and like the keys in harmony
the song you are sounds right;
the opening of me is you,
and overflows the wine
aged to perfection in the dark
to bring each song of mine,
oh! No, they are not ever mine,
admitedly, they're yours
and when the chorus of them come
like summer rain, it pours;
I've heard you singing to a song,
piano girl, your sound
remains in everything I write,
not lost, but never found.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown Poet
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