The November Selected Poet is
Peter Steele
Please feel free to email Peter at: vs005u3305@blueyonder.co.uk
AUSCHWITZ
The young girl could not understand
What the Nazi officer had said,
Or why they had given her
And her fellow prisoners, a shaven head.
In her dingy, damp cell
She had been punished many times,
But in her broken heart,
She knew she was guilty of no crimes.
She felt so isolated,
And at the mercy of the evil power.
When they came for her that morning,
In the corner, she did cower.
Bare-footed and tearful,
Across the compound, she walked,
Naked and frozen from the cold,
While the guards mocked, laughed and talked.
She filled her mind with memories
Of family, love and flowers.
A sad tear ran down her face
When they marched her off to the showers…
DARKEST HOUR
Through my darkest hour of need,
I always think of you.
And I know the love we felt
Will always be so true.
I would like to spend my life
Just being there with you.
And I know the dream we
Have will still remain.
And I know the love we shared
Will ease my pain.
Now the time has come and I
Must face the firing squad.
Now I feel so cold inside
And I must pray to God.
Then the executioner turned
And gave a little nod.
And I know my life is fading
While I stare.
My sweetheart screamed just as
The bullets ripped the air.
MR. MADNESS
Mr. Madness lurks in the shadows.
He flexes tiredly, and then kisses the night.
The dreams have all been forgotten,
Just like the lies that burned out your sight.
The humans put the coffin into the hearse,
While Mr. Madness leaned against a lamppost
And when the door was firmly closed,
To the dead man, he proposed a toast.
The headlamps of the old hearse
Cut through the fog like a razor.
Mr. Madness felt the cold
And buttoned up his button-less blazer!
The hearse drove on through
Empty hours like a notorious freak.
And the moon looked down and cried severely,
But then, the moon always was weak!
Eventually, day strangled the night
And dreams just simply faded away.
A never shining sun never shone
And did not brighten up the day.
After many broken hearts,
And many Bible pages were torn,
The hearse came to rest
On the crack of yesterday morning.
The humans climbed out of the hearse
And talked about something, perhaps “dying!”
Or perhaps the latest scandal
That had left so many people crying.
Mr. Madness breathed in deep
And felt the cool air of the day.
Then, he looked at the humans wide-eyed
And whispered “That’s another bastard tucked away!”
Peter Steele was born on November 5, 1961 in Gloucester, England. He started writing at the age of fourteen and has succeeded in getting extracts from his books, short stories and poems published in over 150 anthologies. He has also written three horror novelettes entitled Cannibal killer, Cloven Hoof—Mark Of The Devil, and Demon Slayer; a collection of short stories entitled 24 Tales Of Darkness and three collections of dark horror poems entitled A Primeval Child, A Thought From The Dead and Anarchy In Hell, all of which are available in Kindle on Amazon.com and on Mobipocket in Europe.
Peter is the recipient of The American Biographical Institute’s Golden Academy Award and Gold Medal of Honour. His biography has been featured in many biographical “Who’s Whos” such as The International Authors & Writers Who’s Who, Men of Achievement, International Book of Honour, and others. He has been short-listed twice for the Forward Prize. He also creates his own artwork that appears on his book covers and album sleeves.
In addition to writing and art, Peter is also a composer, songwriter, musician and live entertainer. His albums include Alienator, Andromeda, Ectoplasm, Utopia, Phantasmagoria, Automaton, Omega, Ancient Realms, City Of The Dead, and many more, all available in MP3 on Amazon and iTunes.
