If poets continue to circulate their work after death what does an undead poet look and sound like?
Tag Archives: horror
The Damned spoken word podcast
Clown huntress
The circus mirrors gives her the shivers
Her lips begin to quiver
She hates clowns
and her frown
turns into bestial snarl.
her cheeks flash red
all she can think of is blood instead
and meat
Which she wants to eat
as her hairs stand on end
and are caught by electric instincts
her teeth become sharp and canine
and eyes shine an unnatural shade
as her body begins to rearrange
her spine tingles
her coccyx sprouting out of behind
A now wagging tail
Her feet bursting through her dainty shoes
her arms begin to flail
she is in shock but somehow it feels right
those clowns will get it
they will not live to regret it
growling at the mirror at her reflection
her skirt tearing at the seams
full moon screams turning into growls
then a howl
As her body is exposed
this is what the crystal ball
and fortune teller said
“when the moon becomes blood red
you will see what you are in the distorted mirrors and be fed”
As she smashes the mirror
drool dripping from her tongue and teeth
the werewolf released
from her human cage
to rage against those foolish clowns.
The villain
The villain
I am so nasty
people stand aghast
I am so bad
you feel a draft
on a summers day
murderous glances pave the way
I am sick, I am ill
babe with every hero it’s a battle of wills
I am so abrasive
I am like invasive surgery
I am so evil I burn bibles and call it purgatory
the devil herself could learn from me
I want pounds of flesh so burn with me
I am deathly shade
stalking the sun
I am the nightmare
in the night you run
I am evil
I told you to die
but chances are you’re petrified
I am so dishevelled
I make Darth Sidious look sprightly
Sith Lords can’t fight me
With just one flick of my fingers
and death lingers
I am psychologically deranged
so psychopathically strange
you wondered if I was ever sane
I just got back from Frankenstein’s lab
I killed the hulk yes I am that strong and bad
I framed Sherlock Holmes
and made him into an heroin addict
cause all my plays our that strategic
I even cheat death
in fact I own Azrael’s blade
I am villain, the one you crave.
Ghost FM
The radio booms on speakers
it’s enough to wake the dead
zombies re attach their heads
ghosts clammer for attention.
What’s this dissenting dismal story
breaking from the ordinary
it must be the radio news.
This towns a ghost town and we are out of sight
dead ravens take flight
like they have been reanimated by Edgar Allen Poe
the word nevermore repeated.
Disco lights dance in the dusty ghostly radio station studio
the presenter moves his skeletal hand
and slides the controls to the peak setting.
his voice a long forgotten recording
playing jingles old songs and adverts
for a town where no one is around…
The Monster of Wherwell Abbey
I am the zombie blackbelt
The mirror (possession)
The mirror
The antique mirror which was your late great aunts
Stands before you and plants, an image in your head
A frozen image of woman not unlike yourself but with white pupils
Without an iris just a spot,like a dot of ink on a page
The image shimmers until all you can see is you again although you are feeling strange.
But you look again and your eyes have turned
White, your body your frame is racked with pain
As you feel nails break and black claws burst free of cuticles
You lose you balance and fall grabbing your stomach
You don’t know what happening an your terrified not just flummoxed
Panic sets in as skin and bone crack
Metamorphosis is not holding back
As your feet and talons burst through your dainty high heels
To reveal huge hideous monster toes and claws on show
Your legs are growing too not showing signs of slowing either
As your breaths become more and more sudden
You roll about the floor
Your clothes tear at the seams
You’re becoming a monster like in those horror movie scenes
Legs break and bend like an animal on tip toes
Your back arches and cracks as your spine shows
Then your spine extends as you scream
A tail has formed writhing and waggling out of control
Animal instincts start to take over your soul
Horns sprout from your skulls temple
As your screams become mental
Your teeth grow sharp your tongue extends
Your face becomes a muzzle you growl
You can smell every scent in the air
As your nickers tear
You howl a lustful howl as hairs stand on end
and grow into fur as you roar a beastly roar
Cursed you want more
Flesh lust and craving
No one is safe from your beastly self
We are all meat to you on a consumers shelf.