Posts Tagged ‘monsters’

Our sloop suddenly halted in open water,
Like a reef had struck us,
Invoked by some pagan sea god,
The ship listed sharply in newly churning waters,

Then it set upon us,
Oddity given flesh,
Seizing our vessel like a child’s toy,
A thousand grey boughs from below,
Bristling with vicious suckers,
Shattering mast and severing rope,
Plucking men like cockles,

This leviathan,
No spear or axe could deter it,
Lashing every inch of the deck,
I was thrust overboard in the chaos,
As I sank,
I saw my friends die,
Eaten doubly by fathom and beak both.

Do not call me a man,
Nor a human,
I am body horror,
What appears a man,
Is an abomination,
A terror of mutilation and mutation each,
A patchwork of flesh,
Necrotic and otherwise,

Seeing from countless eyes,
Not all mammalian,
Speaking from many maws,
Drool flowing from each,
Each of the humours on display,
All forms of improvement,
Sores and incisions,
Tentacles and fur,

This isn’t imagination,
Not delusion,
Just a real body,
In abhorrent excess,
Sutures and all.

In the minds of each person,
Pauper or prince,
There is an attic door,
Usually hidden,
Barred by clutter and cobwebs,
An oubliette in mental style,

What does it contain?
Who can know?
The answer is myriad,

For one it may contain a void of black,
Your fear in billow form,
This loft could hold monsters of all moulds,
Slashers and dragons and sphinxes,
Perhaps an imprisoned and decrepit facsimile of oneself,
Moaning out in your voice,

Why does it exist?
Does this attic incarcerate evil?
Or does it merely hide a part of ourselves?

Those eyes,
Oh those eyes,
Just like Medusa,
Piercing and deadly,
Tawny like spite,
Her gaze is flanked by numerous serpents,
Like a scaled bouquet for a crown,
She chokes you with her speech,
An invisible anaconda,
A his slithering on every word,
The venom almost visible on the air,

She hates what you did to her,
How you punished her,
Cursed her,
But she can punish you now,
Goddess or not,
You try to flee,
Yet the body rebels,
She has you,
In her coils and vision,
You’ll be stone soon,
Masonry for your own ruined temple.

This Halloween,
Something prowls the neighbourhood,
A titan in boiler suit and Shatner mask,
A haunting of a different kind,
This isn’t a spectral creature though,
But a man of flesh,
As much as a being of evil can be,
But you can’t kill the bogeyman,
Not by fire or bullet or blade,
When he comes home,
He’ll just want to say hello,
In his own way,
A keenly bladed greeting.

In life,
She had been maltreated,
Abused and beaten,
Betrayed and scarred,
Cruelly slain for another by her husband,
A sakura petal singed by life,
But she came back,
Revenge being an ironclad anchor,

She walks the world again,
Animated by rancor,
Snow white skin,
Black hair like a frayed funeral veil,
Draped in ivory kimono,
That which began as hatred for a husband,
Is now hate for life itself,
She’s no longer finical on her victims,

She’s now a dark spirit,
They say she stops hearts,
She will find you,
Crawling from under the bed,
Bones cracking and rasping breaths,
Eyes wide with spite,
Her breathless stare shall be your last sight,
And her vengeance be done.

Beware the darkest of nights,
When the moon hides,
The air grows heavy with the stink of formaldehyde,
And even the toms bite their tongues,
Be sure to stay under your duvet,
And close your curtains tight,
For the gangly man may be paying a visit,

A demon,
Or mayhap something fouler,
As tall as a house,
With legs like circus stilts,
And arms just as gaunt,
A bogeyman prowling the streets,
Awkwardly prancing between streetlamps,

In a patchwork suit,
He seems to stride in abject agony,
Creaking and moaning,
He has vipers for fingers,
Slithering along bedroom windows,
Peeking with many eyes,
Hungering with no maw,

Knock knock,
Knock knock at your window.

Beware my lad,
Don’t advance impurely or with lance drawn,
You’ll show due respect or else,
That woman is manticore,
A strzyga,
A praying mantis,
She is Medusa reborn,
Elegant and lethal,
Deathly and ravishing,
I tell you she holds no evil though,

She is justified in her monstrosity,
It was self preservation,
She was lashed by sharp tongues and closed fists,
Burned at the stake,
And betrayed ad nauseum,
Don’t you see?
She had to bear her own talons,
To defeat her past monsters,
She had to become one,
And no man shall ever hurt her again.

The day grows raspy,
And I ride atop my iron steed,
Pale in its sheen,
A frame wrenched from cemetery gates,
Wheels grinding through the ash,
Over dale and alpine,

You find yourself a spectator,
The sun creeps through my visor,
Highlighting my face,
You look aghast,
And see naught but a skull,
Grinning at the scene we play,

They tell of me,
Hushed tones and cupped hands,
I’m the goodbye man,
Once I’ve left,
Into the fog post-haste,
There isn’t anything but silence and grave dirt.

He comes,
In blood red overcoat and fedora,
The ultimate vampire,
A count of the night,
Now a leashed hellhound,
The charge of Sir Hellsing,
And subject to her majesty,
Hunting his own kind,
By bullet or blood magic,
The things that go bump in the dark,
Get bumped right back,
Even in the most inky of nights,
He comes.