FEAST OF THE UNDEAD
In an abandoned kitchen renowned for its disgrace
Of being home to wicked souls already dead,
Utensils reflect a lady’s beauty trace by trace
As she collects the flesh of prey which must be fed
To fellow vampires inside a dining room
Eager to enjoy the meat they shall consume.
The meat is chopped in pieces small upon a plate
And brought to guests with appetites which salivate.
The waitress’ serving spoon divides each piece with haste
As food is fed to fangs immune to status grey.
Vampires complete the meal without a hint of waste
As they enjoy the flesh the waitress chose to slay.
After a meal of meat and blood has reached its’ end,
Appetites for taste of living flesh extend.
A FIELD OF FORMER LOVERS
The scent of beauty infused with lies is spread into the air
As a lady walks across a field accursed with bones defiled.
She treads upon the unburied bones of former lovers who had a share
In a type of love which killed the bodies of men who were beguiled.
The memories of the unworthy men who failed to satisfy
Her desire for a commitment cemented into the ground
Are regularly remembered as the prey she chose to deny
Any chance of obtaining an immortal bond most profound.
As she patiently awaits the scent of the next man’s arrival,
The wolves begin howling wildly upon a mountain peak.
Their cries are a message of doubt regarding the survival
Of the men ready to kiss the seductive lips they seek.
THE COMPOSITION OF A CURSE
Inside a room where a curse is abiding,
The priestess of Darkness is presiding
Over the composition of a song.
Using a pen filled with blood from her prey,
She writes the words of a canticle which convey
The need for a curse to rise up to status strong.
The ink of each victim’s blood seals every word
With the power that Darkness’ hand has inferred
Upon a priestess who ends lives with a single gaze.
After the song is completed with a dot of ink,
A curse causing people’s fortunes to sink
Into the ground is reaching another phase.
The names the priestess strikes through with a pen
Are the ones destined to become poor when
The canticle shall be sung at the midnight hour.
The priestess and her flock leave the cellar to sing
A canticle of misfortune that shall bring
People to their knees when their lives turn sour.
Jason Constantine Ford is from Perth in Australia. He is the copy editor of the print editon of Thought Notebook. He has over a hundred publications of poetry and fiction in various poetry and literary magazines, ezines and journals from around the world such as the Cortland Review, The Criterion: an International Journal in English, the Muse: an International Journal of Poetry, Bewildering Stories, and The Horror Zine. The major influences on his style of poetry are Edgar Allan Poe and William Blake. Jason’s main influences for short stories are Bram Stroker and Phillip K. Dick.