There is a foul stranger lurking in my doorway,
His face clouded by plumes of putrid rancid breath,
As his red eyes stare at me in the twilight hour;
Ascended from his rotting grave to take me away.
How the night's deep frost exudes creeping agony
From his long-dead ancient bones to numb my mind;
My soul screams in terror at what he has brought:
The stench of the charnel house and vicious pain.
The bleak morning's feeble rays break onto his face,
As he rips off my clothes and sodomises me to death,
His graveyard thrusts raping me of my fleeting life,
His eyeless sockets reflecting the horror of eternal perversion.
Author notes
YOUR SUFFERING WILL BE LEGENDARY EVEN IN HELL!
A contest entry
- In Honour of Macabre Madness by Catacomb.
900 points, ended September 22, 21 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
I have tried to convey my evil soul here. Have I succeeded?
Comments
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Very Gothic and well structured for a centenarian. Thought your climax could have done with a bit more unveiling. The phrase "sodomises me to death" somehow reminds me a bit of being talked to death or even nagged to death. Something a little less graphic and more poetic may prove to be more shocking if it builds a growing realisation of the fiendish act in the reader.
Hey what do I know, the thought of eternal anything is a bore to me! -
golly
i ain't never read nothing like this in my life. i really havent. this was great. and scary. you made me feel like i was there, and didn't want to be. ha/ha. great write man. PENS TO THE POET!!!! love gypsyfish
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You succeeded. Well done. And thank you.
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