Posts Tagged ‘Serial killer’

There’s a fine line between justice and crime,
And some walk that line haphazardly,
They choose not to defer to authority,
And take matters into their own hands,
Vengeance rarely looks like a courtroom,
And it is never a portrait,
More often it is spent cartridges in an alley,
Bullet and hammer and blade,
These are the tools of the vigilante,
These are the judge and jury,
And the will behind them is the executioner.

Ofttimes we confer our lives to men of medicine,
Hippocratic Samaritans,
Truly worthy of our trust,
Yet once this trust was broken,
Reduced to residue in a syringe,
By a foul miscreation of fate,
On the island kingdom he resided,
A creature with eyeglasses and a kindly gaze,
This monster in a white coat,
Human anthrax,

Where he practiced,
The neediest of us fell,
Where he called,
Toxins invaded innocent bloodstreams,
Grandads and grandmas,
Taken by foul chemical artifice,
They needed him,
And yet he slaughtered them,
Casually he spoke in the sound of needles,
Smiled kindly with venom behind teeth,

Aged though these victims were,
They could still have had decades,
But with him they had minutes.

That grin,
Oh that grimace,
Wielded by that walking corpse,
Clad in leather and chain,
It hungers to tear asunder meat,
Meat that still struggles,
Those lips still drip with cruelty,
Salivating,
Salivating,

Desiccated flesh splitting in a curve,
Joy formed with painful contortion,
Each bronzed tooth telling a tale of murder,
Poems of crime upon each breath,
A scarred tongue dancing on graves behind,
This is a maw of evil,
This grin,
It’s an avatar of death,
And it’s directed at you.

An evil man,
He took them,
Innocent souls,
From the harsh streets they knew,
To a harshness they couldn’t imagine,

Down to the basement,
Down with the misery,
Down to the dark,
Down with the rats and dogfood,
Down to the torture and desecration,

Over the airwaves,
I heard no devils laughing,
But god found it all very amusing,
I heard him chuckle from his throne,
Yet there was no funny side.

I’m trying to hide,
Though this wardrobe be a paltry citadel,
Subsequent to this ambush on a frigid moonlight night,
A gathering reduced to a bloodbath,
Human bodies hewed to mulch by terrible implement,
I know that blade thirsts for more,
Insatiably it took my friends,
I still hear the drips,

He’s coming,
A hell sent juggernaut,
A boiler suit rendered crimson by lives cut short,
And that mask,
Oh lord that mask,
The face of a shinigami,
Bound by wire and bone,
A crooked grin with iron teeth,

I’m trying to hide,
But my gasping and perspiration scream out my location,
Those wooden stairs are a countdown,
Each foreboding step a stopwatch counting down,
A boot upon the landing is a deathknell,
The doors to my harborage shrill open,
That awful mask appears from the opacity,
That dripping brand of gore is raised,

Time stops.

I have travelled once again within my torpor,
Across these plains of arid texture,
To a roost dripping with gaunt atmosphere,
Lived in by only dust and rodents,
This was a haven for a monster once,
A foul nosferatu,
A menace long slain,

Yet death still echoes here in sleeps carousel,
This wallpaper whiffs of ichor and sawblades,
This leather furniture is of no bovine nature,
But something closer to home,
Something screaming in terror,
Cattle of a different kind,
Bloody wards of a killer already caught,

But in this dream world,
The grisly activities play over and over,
An old black and white film a touch too real,
A slideshow of past agony,
A tapestry painted by a nightmare shaped like a man,
Something that’ll force me out of rest sweating,
Sights which impel to flee to compos mentis.

Not so happy?
We have a fix for that,
Allow me to put on my apron,
Forgive the blood,
This is a messy procedure,

Your face shall become artwork,
A scalpel sculpture,
An ideal incision,
Ear to ear,
A grin born of cruor,

You’ll be the talk of the town,
No more sorrow,
No more tears,
Extracting that bad mood,
The agony just means it’s working,

Why are you screaming?
You look so happy now,
You won’t be laughing,
But you’ll be smiling until the end of days,
Even within your grave,

Now that grin shall never dissipate.

I am chased,
By hounds in white and blue,
My dress torn in the panic,
They slaver monstrously,
I know not why,
I only performed my nightly dance,
An energetic noctural song,

It was a frenetic dance I’ll admit,
Sensual and rabid all at once,
All rondos are,
I know my dance partner was somewhat loud,
He was inebriated and untried after all,
He was a simple drunken sap,
But I’ve elevated him to art,

My dance partner fell down,
Maybe the dogs want to help him,
He shrieked wicked ecstacy,
He painted the stage in such crimson,
A scent of iron and sweat,
With my terminal flourish,
The rondo of knives,

Each step punctuated with a jab,
Each stab releasing ribbons,
As he collapsed wide-eyed,
I asked him if I was a beautiful dancer,
No answer,
My knife applauded at least,
My biggest fan,

The applause almost dampened the sirens.

Whack,
The brisk night fell on this shed,
As did the sun set on this feeble soul,
Three whacks,
And two more,
This room has become an abattoir,

The axe is thirsty,
Forgot why I started,
But I may as well finish,
Where are the others?
In the house?
Lets paint some walls,

Can’t let any rudely escape,
Two in the master bedroom,
One in the smoking room,
Was there one in the children’s room?
The only witness that’ll remain,
Will be the moon,

The axe sings out,
Hatchet lullabies,
To those lucky victims,
Perhaps a few more chops,
Are just what the voices ordered.

A continuation of ‘Cerberus‘.

I was in hell,
I climbed out,
Through the barbed wire,
And viridian flames,
My charred body endures,
Even as strips of flesh yield,

That thrice-headed horror,
It hunted me here,
But it neglected the fact,
A prey cornered is vicious,
I dismembered it in glee,
I wear its teeth as trophies,

I don the cracked mask once more,
I am once more the apex,
I’m back,
They’ll suffer for their transgression,
Daring to end my imbrued crusade,
I’ll punish them all,

I hear the cattle call,
With their cell phones and banter,
Anathema to my senses,
My killer instinct,
It sends bolts down my spine,
Let’s punish the world,

Never was affluent in life,
So lets try unlife,
The world is my stage again,
My carnival of gore and chaos,
My charnel house,
My festival of blood,

My bloody legacy is renewed,
I’ll sit atop the corpses,
Of the whole world,
A holy throne,
Even the reaper shall bow to me,
Caked in the grisly glory,

Of my monument of gore.