by David Hollywood
Wherein my art do hearts perceive,
Of fear for what’s conceived? Concealed!
Behind a veil where phantoms lurk,
And apparitions dream. To seize!
The thoughts which tangle as they irk,
And visions of what feels deceived,
Are images in eerie need,
Of words of trust
- Relieved! What grieves,
For graven shades of pale?
In bodies now anemic, frail,
Their shadows grasp for what they know,
Are lives of those who cannot glow,
From inside tombs of darkness…… caught!
By crypts of dreams and nightmares fraught,
And nothings real cept sinews taut,
In depths of earth where all is nought……… and
-Slow…… And vaults are now the shell you’ve found,
As trapped you are beneath the ground,
Reflecting all of what he’d tell,
In shrouds of tales that cast their spell,
On those who live despondence, once….
A stranger, who amongst us wants,
Forlorn, to friend ….. we never tokened as our end.
A nauseous patient tempted wait,
Requires the lives of those whose fate,
The Nesferatu longs to find, create,
A newly founded sense of state.
Through veins destined to drain, to ache,
When dried to brittle sense of break.
Until no longer mortal bait,
Their emptied by his needy wait.
And then he’ll sense depleted hate,
Until consumes another’s fate,
Someone’s life who’ll linger, sate
His craving yearns for thirsts abate.
And so in fleeting sights his greed,
And need for blood…….
Shall glimpse your life because you stood,
Before his specter, you’ll be led,
Attracted by his grace and dread,
Toward a lifeless grave you’ll rush,
And scream eternal fear unsaid,
Within his spell, now cast undead,
To dark and sculptured forms you’ve fled,
Whose arms carress with charm, the harm,
Ensures your bled, before your dead.
Last updated October 20, 2011