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Gary Bateman Poem
The End
Seeing through these cold dead eyes now,
This world looks much different.
The scars of one’s life entire,
Appear now for all to see.
What once meant everything,
Really means nothing now.
I still see and sense things mortal,
But the earthly world can’t hear my words.
Lying on an ice-cold white slab this darkest night,
I see the pale yellow moon’s sad face in the sky.
With visions of people who’ve crossed over before,
I wonder when Charon shall finally appear?
Shall it be him who appears on this new horizon?
Or shall it be someone or something else?
The everyday mortal world moves on as before:
Regardless of one’s wealth, poverty, fame, shame, infamy.
I guess now all the ancient mysteries of the universe,
Shall become obvious and answered in kind.
I wonder what shall be said to me and the reception?
Thumbs up or thumbs down—I guess I shall find out.
The pale yellow moon now appears brighter . . .
As if a special message cometh soon from a winged angel.
Hope this helps to answer my lingering questions . . .
As the dark void from the mortal world grows greater now.
I feel a gentle tug pulling me upward now from Earth’s grasp,
Into the majestic arms of infinity and into God’s eternal light!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
June 12, 2016 (Lyric)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016
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Gary Bateman Poem
Love’s Alchemy is Eternal
Your look, touch, and scent now so perfect pure,
Enchants my true emotions and soaring passion.
I knoweth now our love shall always endure,
As God unites our souls as one by divine action!
Our sensual passion defines love’s spirit entire,
As we caress and kiss for this moment’s bliss.
Love’s alchemy maketh our spirits soar afire,
As we embrace our lips find that deepest kiss!
Our hearts beat now in a sacred tempo of love,
That reflects our real destiny, two souls as one.
This is God’s gift to us from Heaven high above,
As we wish these magic moments of eternal fun!
By Heaven, I pray our love’s alchemy forever,
And declareth my love shan’t leave you ever!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
June 27, 2016 (Shakespearean Sonnet)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016
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Gary Bateman Poem
Your Look of Precious Love
Whilst I gaze so warmly in your eyes my dearest,
I see deeply your pure angelic soul of love
Reflecting like a radiant flight of a dove,
Charting its flight on so high emotions purest!
Our spirits ascend high in the sky so clearest
To the very boundaries of Heaven my love,
Where the power of brightness is God’s best above.
Your look of precious love is always mine dearest!
When we kiss so passionately our lips so melt,
As we caress warmly emotions are so felt!
Why we do this darling defines our love so dear,
As counts the worth of angels’ blessings to be here!
How we love each other so matters on God’s Earth,
Your look of so precious love exceeds all gold’s worth!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 05, 2014 (Petrarchan Sonnet)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
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Gary Bateman Poem
My heart skips a beat my love each and every time
I’m with you my dearest sweet and lovely Darling
Since the passions and feelings you stir in me
Touch the very depth of my inner being and soul
And render themselves not to mere words only
Suitable for depiction, exhibition, understanding
Rather to the image and strength of your beauty
And your rapturous desire and feeling as they
Defy rational attempts at any simple description
For you are the most radiant beyond all compare
My heart skips a beat my love when we lie together
Locked in a most enchanting embrace and kissing
So deeply, palpably that we run out of breath and pant
Anxiously at what comes next in our mutual longing
And crescendo as our passions explode and express
Themselves in a most hungry trail of urges and desires
Which makes finding love for us all the more magical
Pairing us together like a couple of star-struck kids
Lost impossibly in moments of hope and imagination
In a timeless world of love, desire, emotion, and oneness
My heart skips a beat my love when we walk so closely
Hand-in-hand talking, laughing, and living our dreams
Confronting the world and taking on whatever comes
Next as we steer our ship of destiny on a true course
Where our like-thoughts and deep love for each other
Mean something quite special that only Dreamers and
Poets can imagine and set to melody and harmony in perfect
Verses of sheer passion and delight painted onto a canvas
Of unending happiness where Heaven and Earth are one
My heart skips a beat my love when we’re forever one
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(November 5, 2014) (Free Verse)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
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Gary Bateman Poem
A Psychedelic Whistle Plays a Rhythm into the Darkness
Entering the dark side of a moonbeam on this evil lens of life,
A gruesome old man recreates a murder time and time again,
As the cold and lonely howling bitterness of the night escapes.
The psychic contrasts go up in a surreal smoke-filled entirety.
This is not lost to the all-seeing consciousness of the cosmos.
Moaning a malefic agony of selfish needs devours all that’s good,
Whilst under black leather gloves bleached deadly-white his bones,
Fill the heart expelled with a legion of grieving spirits—sad and lost.
A maze doth open as Dark Demons are made of rotten plank ridges,
And scraps of empty emotions that maketh them all deliciously evil.
Inside ashes intoxicated with the Hallowed Eve's evil kiss bringeth
All a Gorgon-like gift so cursed and raised in Lucifer’s own Hellfire.
Leaveth them to their executioners and wash your own hands clean!
Cain within life's garden dwells as a zombie—a grief-stricken animal,
As a psychedelic whistle plays a rhythm into the darkness of the cosmos.
Ebony darkness seduces as a fire burns black ebony removing the flesh.
Ice-cold tears in anxiety fall, shouting loudly that nobody sees nor hears
The jealous whimpering of jackals needing love with no way to find it.
There remains emotionless beings who kill passion with a crocodile’s bite.
Fear not the tempting by Lucifer as long as the silver crucifix adorns thee!
Fireflies born in a hellish fury cast in anger the past sins of those doomed,
Yet they can be "Bearers of an Ancient Light” for things good and noble,
If they can passeth through the veil of evil and darkness into God’s light.
When the smoke blows away pride there’s no remorse only danger ahead!
The silence afterwards is deafening to those of holy-pure mortal blood!
Understanding of reality loses its meaning in this evil realm of darkness,
As an agonising pain is cleared in an eclipse found under “Hate's Trigger.”
Under a deep crater twilight ghosts rise as “Shadow Beggars of Despair,”
Whilst feeling unholy torment in nerve fibers of a past-life enchantment.
Only Lucifer knows this truth as he collects souls for eternal damnation!
Uncanny conversations are secret and bloody-confused in Hell’s own pit.
Rising from the ashes unhappy beasts mark the ground with sharp claws,
As disoriented tongues of envy are struck down by lightning bolts blinded.
Lucifer knows the omnipotence of the psychedelic whistle as it plays its
Rhythm bewitching all lost souls as they enter the darkness of the cosmos!
Anne-Lise Andresen, Gary Bateman, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
May 5, 2017 (Narrative)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2017
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Gary Bateman Poem
The Tides of Our Passion
The tides of our passion cry out my love,
As we seek to define who we are now.
To live this special life gives us that how,
And when and why we must seek God above!
Our souls blend one perfect constant of love,
As we prize God’s cosmic eternal vow.
Our passion defines our life and us now;
Our love basks in Heaven’s own light above!
Our passion’s rapture is love replete,
With brilliant emotions forever bright,
As we kiss softly under God’s moonlight!
Love’s magical force makes our life complete,
As we seek happiness here on God’s Earth,
Knowing love shall transcend our mortal birth!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
July 28, 2015 (Petrarchan Sonnet)
Author’s Notes:
Meter: Iambic Pentameter
Octave: abbaabba | Sestet: cddcee
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015
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Gary Bateman Poem
The Old Dark House
This tale of “The Old Dark House” is one that’s replete with a
most horrid sense of pure evil and macabre, and is worth being
retold each year during the deep-dark hours of All Hallows’ Eve
before the chime of midnight, when the thin veil separating the
land of the living and the dead momentarily dissolves, bringing
both worlds together until the break of dawn.
Beware of this house’s mythical and ethereal presence in the
shadow dreams of the innocent, and be forewarned to never
conjure its image in your unconscious mind. If so conjured,
The Old Dark House shall become an unending reality to the
innocent and uninformed, and on All Hallows’ Eve, the evil
“Demons of Hell” shall come for your very soul!
The Old Dark House is one that is bathed and cursed in utter
hellfire and damnation by Lucifer himself. It’s one that creeps a
chill and frozen reminder into the very frame of its nasty, putrid
structure. It shall guarantee you the worst possible nightmares as
your very soul cries in agony and pleads unrelentingly for mercy!
Your nightmares are, in turn, amplified and born into the very
structure of this house with ivy creeping as you palpably sense
the wretched ice-cold fingers of Hell opening the doors to the
cavernous basement were evil shadows of goblins, ghosts,
ghouls, vampires, and werewolves parade openly from past lives.
Everyone suffering the curse of the damned was captured here
when they visited, becoming prisoners to the darkness of true evil,
far away from the light, goodness, and eternal mercy of Almighty
God Himself.
Six generations of my family actually dwelled beneath the rafters
of The Old Dark House where demonic forces were constantly in
play—as hot sparks burned the tongues of lost souls who cried in
agony, and their world would enter the vortex of darkness whilst
blood-curdling screams could be distinctly heard during the night
on All Hallows’ Eve. Ghostly images would appear out of nowhere
supported by the frightening ferocity of Lucifer who is the true dark
presence and ultimate tempter of mankind!
The horror I felt as a young boy trapped in this existence is truly
unimaginable. The image of The Old Dark House still haunts my
adult consciousness, even today, as I would shudder in the cold
night-sweat of sleep to purge its eternal presence from my mind!
Cruel pictures adorn the hell-hole hall of imagination as a gruesome
and unbelievable power underneath wields its vice-grip of hideous
words, whispering in the coldest of ice without the living being able
to breathe in a cloud of mercy and forgiveness, within an ancient
language of evil and evil-doings that twist the shape of words to
suit one’s human fears and cold shivers!
I still don’t understand the full measure of things being lost in this
dark pit of Hell in The Old Dark House. It’s a place that’s devoid
of human meaning and worth as shrunken heads are disembodied!
I hold on to what remains of a past shame, hovering high in the air
as unclean spirits of a crooked vision-circle wander aimlessly as a
Blind Sheppard leads our lost souls to the depressing Dark Land of
Nowhere and Nothingness!
Every October as the full moon rises high in the dark-sky evening,
a ritual fire is set by a local coven of witches to celebrate the advent
of All Hallows’ Eve. These witches know well the power and evil of
The Old Dark House. Their burnt offerings and black magic spells
echo hauntingly as Hell’s own fury is unearthed, challenging all
things virtuous in mankind’s existence and in God’s world of beauty,
hope, kindness, and light.
These evil images of black magic and witchcraft haunted my sleep
entire. I couldn’t sleep at all before dawn. I constantly sense now
an awakening madness in my soul, as if it comes from hidden graves
yet to be uncovered. Images and bad memories of The Old Dark House
push me now toward the opening of unknown tombs. I can actually
now smell Death’s Sulphur-burnt flesh!
Doors begin to rustle behind me as I hear loud footsteps of a pin
echoing deep in my mind. The echo shatters any illusions I have
of human sanity and forgiveness. I feel the sheer horror and begin
suffocating as the stale air is trapped in each breath I take!
I sit up now—immediately confused, looking directly at a lonely
and empty Black Void that goes on and on and on—to infinity!
Cell doors in the house basement were always closed tight with
rusted iron links bound by heavy chains. As a poor child alone in
this house with other condemned children, there were nice rooms
upstairs that were always barred and shut to us as we suffered in
the filthy basement below. In Lucifer’s Hell!
I recall now too, in my memory, a gallery of special portraits in
The Old Dark House, which formed a ghastly mosaic of pure evil.
These portraits were of key human disciples of Lucifer who had served
him well through the ages. All of these images were grotesque and evil
when taken as a whole.
What did I learn? Evil is what Evil is! And Evil does what Evil does!
I’m free now from the eternal curse of The Old Dark House. I escaped
this mansion of the macabre as a young man and found my soul path
to Almighty God and stepped into His holy light of forgiveness and
redemption!
As a very old man now, I sleep and dream a lot. Usually my dreams,
thank goodness, are pleasant as I draw toward the end of my mortal
existence here on earth.
Yet, despite all the good things in my life now, during October of
each year, as All Hallows’ Eve cometh closer in the deep recesses
of my mind—I remember clearly that the ground floor of The Old
Dark House always had these frigid-cold wind gusts that spoke
chillingly to one’s very soul. As young kids we would run upstairs
in this evil house to hear the “Demons of the Night” moan and cry!
Old Hob always had a way to speak to all of us as kids in His House!
Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2016 (Narrative)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016
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Gary Bateman Poem
Blood Red Moon
Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.
In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.
At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar.
Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.
My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.
The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears.
I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy.
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015
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Gary Bateman Poem
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;
Methinks 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 Hallows' Eve most sound and quite whole!
Amen! Amen! Amen!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved - October 25, 2014
(Shakespearean Sonnet)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
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Gary Bateman Poem
A Rainbow’s Magic
A rainbow’s magic reflects God’s majestic and divine touch,
Giving us a panoply of colored images which mean so much.
The wonder of God’s enchanted pictorial missives here on Earth,
Gives us an ethereal pause as we reflect on each rainbow’s birth.
A rainbow is God’s celestial medium of His images to treasure,
To help Man better understand Him and meet His deft measure.
The power of a rainbow is its picture-perfect aura of pulchritude,
Dazzling our visual senses and assuring us of Heaven’s certitude.
A rainbow’s very visage mesmerizes our human senses complete,
And embeds in us all God’s spirited message of His love replete.
A rainbow is a noble and supreme reflection of beauty at its best,
And of shades of heavenly images on Earth meeting God’s behest.
A rainbow’s magic is the power of God’s message to us on Earth,
Subtly preparing Man for his heavenly ascent and his soul’s rebirth.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, August 13, 2015
(Rhymed Couplet)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015
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