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E D Detetcheverrie

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Body Glorious / Corps à corps - photography by Albert Russo
by Albert Russo

Showing the beauty of the human body in a variety of postures in paintings, sculpture,black and white photos, etc. THE NATIONAL INDIE EXCELLENCE 2008 BOOK AWARDS at t..  
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Gathering Darkness
by E D Detetcheverrie
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Recent poems by E D Detetcheverrie
•  Aspire
•  Eulogy For An Angel
•  Daybreak
•  Qi
•  Through My Office Window
           >> View all 52

A presentation of all of my darker Author's Den poetry selections in one collection.

*BURIED TREASURE: An Irish Ghost Story

My last ship was a sturdy one
though plain an' unassuming
She was naire small
an' she was naire gran'
but through cruel waves went swimmin'
Her name was lost to mystery
her worn sides dark with weather
her sails once stiff an' white an' proud
in older times much better
I sailed her hard an' I sailed her fast
an' many storms did drown us
Then up she'd bob an' face the next
wave that came down upon us
I know she didna last too long
A band of rogues did take her
They took the things they wanted most
then burned her to the water

If yer ever on a foggy sea
or when the sun's too bright
y'might see what y'shouldna see
—my ship who lost her might
She isna fair an' she isna sound
yet still glides on the water
Some day I think she'll run aground
and then I'll know I've found her

My last love was a precious one
more rare than four leaf clovers
She was naire tall
an' she was nair stout
an' I was her only lover
Her name is lost to mystery
Long decades seperate us
Her eyes as blue as starry skies
her kisses quite contagious
I loved her well, but our love was brief
for I was called to duty
She froze her heart when I bid her well
for she feared so greatly for me
I never knew what lay in wait
—that I could never see her
again, because those rogues killed me
an' my ship burned to the water

If yer ever near a sandy shore
alone in grey moonlight
y'might see what y'shouldna see
—my love who lost her light
She isna warm an' she doesna speak
for all the life's gone from her
but she'll wait upon the sand an' weep
until I can come for her

humorous horror

She strolls into the room
at a wobbly pace,
her hair done like a whore's,
candy stuck to her face.
She's all of three years
with a purse on her arm,
dressed like Britney Spears
with a little pig's charm.
Hear her squeal with delight
at the toys that she sees!
Her behavior's a fright!
Band-Aids stuck to her knees.
She'll be told she's a princess,
but grow into a bitch.
One day she'll be Mrs.
Spoiled Nasty Old Witch.

So let's mourn for the boy-child
who's been brought up right.
Never grew up and went wild;
a bashful, virgin sight
who's first love is the first girl
who'll give up her snatch,
then he's off in a whirl,
married, brooding a batch
of the worst little monkeys
you ever will see!
Neighbors say they are sleaze.
Hubby longs to be free
of the zoo he's a part of,
but not the zoo keeper;
that would be his rotund dove
wearing a beeper
so her true love can call her
and get sex for free,
unbeknownst to the husband
who's now gone crazy!

It's the Six O'Clock News
and he's forty years old.
Tired of watching Blue's Clues,
always sick with a cold
that his little brats gave him
along with a tie,
membership to a gym
that he never will try.
He's standing over the corpse
of the wrong lover-boy.
A sweetheart on the porch
with a twenty-gauge toy
that he's threatening to use
on the cops or himself.
Twenty years of abuse
added up on the shelf.
He was really a sweetie;
gentle, tender, and shy.
Now she suddenly sees
that she wed the wrong guy

'cause she should have held out
for a tough nut to crack
with a thicker billfold,
new mink coats on her back,
who could spoil her and love her
like Mr. Sweet never could;
who'd let her take a new lover
when he couldn't get wood.
But, soon she'll be rich, though,
once she gets her check
from his insurance and escrow,
then she'll build a new deck
to get rid of the bloodstain
he left on the porch.
Died in a bullet rain.
She'll now carry a torch
for her once beloved hubby
she'll cremate on Tuesday,
then sip imported bubbly
with her real boyfriend, Jose.


What made her choose the way of shadows?

As a little girl,
she was all smiles and sunshine,
playing sweetly,
barefoot on the lawn.

Now you see her
seldom if ever,
she's a black & white memory
and the sunshine's long gone.

What made her leave the way of light?

In school she seemed happy--
at least, that's what you thought,
mentioning friends during dinner,
then disappearing
for giggled conversations
on the phone.

Now she seems so lonely,
but she wants to be alone,
or with others just like her
she chats with online,
holed up in her home.

When did her life become so gloomy?

You started noticing it in high school,
the way she began to turn away
from the love and family
that you offered,
as though she was haunted,
or perhaps overwhelmed,
by what--she would not say.

She stopped seeking you
for conversation
because she said you didn't understand,
and you didn't,
but you wanted to so very badly,
see her flower face follow the day.

And now the child you knew
is gone from sight.
She hides her vulnerability
within a shroud that smells like death
because she knows that few would follow
her retreat across the cemetery
she already longs to lie in.

And within this dark fantasy
the pale child of daylight still plays,
snuggled deep
in comfortable imagination
which has now become
her protective demon
and, perhaps, in time,
her final resting place.

without understanding,
turns Goth.


After sunset whence comes dark Nyx
and up comes grey rabbit-of-the-moon
Silvered light rippling on the Styx
The waking of the night-beast soon

Utburds fear its wavering howl
Its cry turns sprites to stone
Silent as the Blodeuwedd owl
Claws sharpened from the hone

The transformation now begins
The pain is much too great
There can never be repent for sins
Its fangs are bared in hate

If we are cursed, oh please Patrick
take silver and do shoot us
If not, my Saint, then do protect
because we fear the Lupus.


This soul can fly--I know it, for I've seen it in my dreams--but it's caged within this bag of meat that's rotting at the seams. I long to wriggle free of it just like a become something beautiful before I die.

If there were but a way to cut the cords now, then I would. I'd soar off through the cold night sky beyond the lonely wood that lies and beckons wildly from beyond this place I haunt

God, how I want
I want
Oh, please God, how I want it, oh

free me if you hear me, if you're there and feel my pain. It pounds in me relentlessly like cold, torrential rain. My boundaries are flooded, see me weep beyond the lines in these dark times I'm doomed to live in stabbed deep through by life's black tines.

For years and years I've waited for a light that never came to illume the cracks and shadows where I cowered, broke and lame. The wounds I bear are suppering and fester black with hate--is it too late to heal them finally? Can I avoid this fate?

God, can you hear me?
God, do you see me?
Oh, please, someone,
can you ease this pain?

Erase me from existence. Let me lay down this weary head and become a forgotten piece of history, an unimportant mystery, something never studied well 'cause no one ever cared. Let me pass now from harsh scrutiny, from society I mutiny, if I could just please be allowed to lay down this weary head,

and finally know peace and truth and light when I am dead.

humorous horror

With a hatpin, shining bright,
you took all others from my sight.

With a thumbtack in one ear,
only your words could I hear.

With a syringe through the heart,
of a hand-hewn poppet you did start
to place me 'neath an evil spell
and make me think
that you're just swell.

With a staple through one hand,
I bought for you a golden band.

When an icepick sealed my fate,
I willed you my entire estate.

With a hatchet through my head,
you placed me in a grave-like bed.
You said my funeral was nice
when you woke me with sacred spice.

Now I am your true love-slave,
your zombie hubby from the grave.

I'll help you catch your next rich beau
whom you can voodoo for his dough.

You're evil, heartless, cold & mean
my ragin' Cajun voodoo love queen!


There is a pride within that countenance
deep through the layers
one by one
Peel back and see
those dusty layers
aged thousand moon
and solo sun
The fire once roared behind his eyes—
a glow that stoked that stove called life—
The only one there
cold, yet bright
that glistens in his victim’s strife...
The thinning cheeks
handsome and exotic
they were once full
and now too thin
Oh, say how long the life-blood fills them
before he musts to hunt again?
And what of his soul...?
Has’t long been buried
with that corpse ignored by death?
‘sit merely suppressed
by ancient longings
or kept warm by Beelzebub’s breath?
What were his motives long ago?
And did he take this road by choice?
He can’t remember
how it was...
just something there...about her voice
And so he sits and stares by candle
while out the eve is cold and bright
by Lilith’s eye that marks his progress
down the spiralled stairs of night

The pride is false behind that countenance
A spark alone
A single star
that burns and smoulders
vain and hopeful
one thousand moon
and single sun
For once it filled its fleshly home
with that conflagration known as life—
bold and brazen
full of fire
hot and bright
piercing darkness like a knife
But now there’re fangs
long and exotic
They once were soft
and now too sharp
Oh, say how long the blood does stain them
before they still the victim’s heart?
What of his face?
Should’ve been buried
and rotted with that quickened corpse...
Is it the same
as was in true life?
Greyed with sadness, blued with remorse?
Who was his sponsor
long ago?
Who forced him to the path of dark?
He can’t remember
who it was
Upon his throat he feels her mark
And so he sits and waits by candle
patiently now for the next to come
A child of Eve, the bane of Lilith,
his way of taking out the sun.

2 part epic poem

I was resting in my chambers when a
rap came from without.
‘twas a messenger in livery with flowing
locks--quite stout—
he passed to me a parchment which I accepted from his glove
and my eyes begat great flowing tears when I saw ‘twas from my love...

“O, dearest, sweetest Augustine, how my
heart craves for thee!
Fine’ly have I drunk the wine thy body bled for me...”
She went to say she missed me great and for my touch she burned
and signed it with the flourish of a name for which I’ve yearned.

I dismissed the bearer from my den and
sent him on his way,
then called for trusty William to fetch my carriage and make ha’e,
then packed few bags and grabbed my cloak to warm a night-chilled back,
and shortly we were on our way with snap of reigns and whip’s loud crack.

An hour’s journey through the night and
to young Will I asked,
“Do you think she might refuse me after many ages past?
Do you think I’ve changed so drastically she would not know my face—
and feeling thus, she would contrive to rid me of that place?”

Bold William, honest William, he looked
at me and then,
full of fear for honest truthful--for he knows I’m not all men—
he whispered to me in the dark, his tones youthful and fair,
“On top you have grown silver where once was raven there...

Your face is gaunt, you skin stretched
taut across thy ancient bones,
your body lean and willowy where once sinew made a home,
your eyes now pale and watery instead of
ocean blue
and, to tell the truth Lord Augustine, my heart has feared for you.”

The sentiments he did express quite
caught me unprepared—
ne’er once in all his gallant years clear loathing had he bared,
and yet I’d thought he’d kept inside an awesome sort of hate
that centered on me, or, at least, my evil, curse’d fate.

“And what of my people, William, what
have they thought of me?”
“They worried for you, master, when thou
wast gone across the lea.
They feared the Turks would travel ‘round and lay waste to the land
or that they would be torn apart by ghastly robbers’ band.

For many years they’ve loved you dear—for many years and more.
You’ve protected them from famine and from plague and yes--from war.
It does not even bother them when you collect your tax,
and they speak of you respectfully with loyalty unlax.”

I noticed then off to the east, beginning of first light.
We stopped to pry the cart apart so I could bid good-night.
So climbing to my slumber deep inside my silken box,
I bid William continue and heard hoofbeats on the rocks.

Asleep within my casket, I dreamed a
pleasant sight
of the first time that I’d met her on a stormy, far off night.
How blown off course from beastly flight and swept up by the gale
I was tossed against a windowpane and fainted in the hail.

Soft warm hands soon rescued me and
fed me drops of milk.
Her hair shone like forbidden sun and felt like finest silk,
her eyes they sparkled like the dawn upon a placid sea,
and her voice was like a Chinese balm that soothed and loosened me.

She placed me gently in a box she set
beside her bed.
I recuperated quickly until hunger raised my head.
So as a man I rose full up and watched her slumber fair,
then licked my lips and hovered near while brushing ‘way that hair.

Just as I was ‘bout to bite, the storm
clouds broke apart.
The moonlight lit that lily face and seared me to the heart.
I tried to fight my instinct--to determine what was wrong—
but, weakened, I began to feed with white teeth sharp and long.

She awakened from her reverie and
started at my sight.
The faintest cry escaped her lips; I saw her pale to white.
She clutched the bedspread to her throat and shook with unfeigned fear,
then whispered in a trembling voice, “What are you doing here?”

I bowed to her despite myself, “Augustine is my name.
I’ve travelled far to your country to seek out fresh new game...
but now, alas, I see that I have made a grave mistake—
I beg sorrow and forgiveness, so please,
mistress, do not shake...”

“I am but poor Odessa, without money
you could steal.
I own no jewels and no fine steed, but a bat I took to heal...”
So saying this, she leaned across to look beyond her bed
and seeing nothing in the box, she shook her forlorn head.

“You have, sir, taken all I had to bring me any joy—
a tiny, helpless, winge’d mouse I’d thought with which to toy,
for I love all the animals--even those who’re born of night,
and I ask that you please leave me now before I die from fright!”

Fearing she might perish thus, I took
leave of the room.
Leaping from the windowsill, I was struck hard with a broom!
Plummeting to the ground below, I landed in cold mud
and suddenly I wondered why I had not drunk more blood!

I scrambled to my filth-caked feet to
seek a place to rest
and had to suffice with a hollow
tree--uncomfortable at best!
Just then my dream was shattered by a most unearthly scream...
I heard the cart rendered apart from seam to wooden seam.

There was a pause as my coffin slid out
onto the ground,
and I heard the drag of nervous feet of scared men moving ‘round.
One of them, a brazen youth, the lid he tried to pry
open a crack, the lad did scream, and sunlight struck my eye!

Blind, and greatly full of fear, I listened to them run,
then cowered in my defiled box until the set of sun.
As twilight came, I did contrive to venture from my place...
with horror I found William, broken, lying on his face.

With dying breath he said to me he
wished my journey well
and asked for me to bury him exactly where he fell.
With choking sobs I built a cairn above his grave with rocks,
and spending every ounce of strength, I marked it with a simple cross.

The night was nearly over, yet I had to
travel far,
and I was without my horses and I was without my car.
My baggage had been stolen, and it was a
cloudy night,
so I couldn’t tell direction for I was shielded from starlight.

I strolled along a rock-strewn path to
find a place to sleep
and soon came across a cottage with some
chickens and some sheep.
I knocked upon the wooden door and ‘roused a maiden fair
and asked if I might spend the day, though I was short of fare.

She warned me of her father who was a
gruff old man
who couldn’t stand a vampyre and might take stake to hand.
Then behind her I could see him, and he pulled her quick away,
then bellowed, “It’s Lord Augustine! Of course he’s ‘lowed to stay!”

They bunked me in a wooden chest with
mud to fill the cracks
and the two forgave me graciously and
supplied scarlet snacks.
I had not fed in oh-so long; the taste was like pure honey!
And then I slept in musty dark while out was fresh and sunny.

Again I saw my Odessa, aglow inside my
I recall I’d met her once again ‘midst milking maids and queens,
‘midst Robin Hoods and golden knights and ancient Greeks in white,
and far-off kings with giant rings all full of power and might,

for I’d taken to a costume ball, a lovely masquerade
and danced the evening with a fair and lovely maske’d maid
whose feet glided across the floor like owl’s wings ‘cross the night.
Clothed in a gown of velvet blue; a most
enchanting sight!

At midnight we unmasked ourselves and
much to my surprise,
I found I’d waltzed with Odessa--she of the mystic eyes.
She slapped me then, and tried to flee, but something called her short...
she turned around and winked at me and
swayed a hip for sport!

Once, long ago, I was a man, and
something in me breathed.
I saw this woman as a lass; the thing within me seethed.
When I glanced into those eyes I did not see a meal,
so when I rushed to pursue her--a kiss I wished to steal!

She shied from me, coy sunlight child,
she fled my swift approach.
I watched her flee the masquerade and step into her coach.
I found her later by a woods--the carriage wheel had broke—
and went to her in pale moonlight as quiet as dark smoke.

Resuming my most common form, I
stooped to kiss her hand.
She shrieked and backed away from me, then tripped upon the sand.
I laughed and bent to help her up and was pulled down instead,
then rising, she obtained a branch and struck me on the head!

My passion changed to hot anger, with
fangs did I arise!
The branch fell to the night-soft ground and dread colored those eyes.
The fury brought an urge to drink and a desire to kill,
but when tears marred that upturned face, my lonely heart stood still.

Embarassed, I did lower my head, and
leapt up to the sky.
Just barely changed, a cloak snagged me,
averting chance to fly.
I struggled vain until fine’ly I turned back to a man.
Those dove-white hands soon found my head, my face she did then scan.

“You are a terror of the night! A fierce
and wicked thing!
You drain the blood of innocents, and as a beast you cling
to the very roots of primal man! Evolution in reverse!
I hereby shall put you to death to end your dreadful curse!”

Forlorn, I waited patiently while she
retrieved her stick.
She hoisted it high in the air, inside I did feel sick.
She paused to summon all her strength to
drive wood through my heart
Then dropping branch, she clung to me and quickly fell apart.

Relieved was I, and yet aghast, for love
was not to be.
Pushing ‘way the damsel sweet, I rose up on one knee
I took the stake within my hands to point it at my breast,
then trembling did I speak these words: “I fear ‘tis for the best!

I am moonlight, you are sun, never the
twain shall meet.
I thought perhaps I’d found true love, that you’d make me complete.
I had assumed you might love me, oh, what a fool am I!
Your scorn has left me no more choice, so now I wish to die...”

I held the wood in front of me, she
reached and grabbed the end.
“Give it a push, sweet, if you would,” and hoped my life she’d rend.
“Oh, silly beast, already dead, what would you have me do?
Take your life a second time? Extinguish eyes so blue?

To murder a romantic soul would surely
be a sin...”
“Just hurry up,” I snapped at her, “and push the damned thing in!”
She started to aim at my chest, but stopped to ask me this,
“Since you’ve become a vampyre, have you ever had a kiss?

What lonely creature you must be to
destroy all you love!
I’m sure you did not ask for Hell, but wish to rise Above?”
I said, “Though I’m not Heaven bound, ‘tis not what I deserve.
I’ve put to death a hundredfold by way of teeth that curve.

I’ve ripped a child right from its mum
and drunk out all its blood,
and then I drank his mum’s as well and chewed her flesh like cud!”
She paled, “Please say this isn’t true ! I’d hate to end you here!
For I’ve no place to hide your corpse—nor torch with which to sear!”

“All right, I lied, I’ll tell you know I’ve never harmed a one.
I wished to make myself seem bad so killing me might seem more fun.”
She giggled like soft rain on moss, her fingers at her lips,
then broke the stick across her knee--I had to dodge the chips!

She helped me to unsteady feet--for still I feared the worst,
then kissed me full upon the lips until I thought I’d burst!
“Would you have really killed yourself over a girl like me?
With average looks and average hair? A mole upon one knee?”

Confused, I took her in my arms to look
her in the eye,
“For soul untamed and beauty great, it is for this I’d die
or live the life of most monsters, a solitary Hell—
but for the chance to be with you, my very soul I’d sell.”

She blushed and took me by the hand and
led me to her cart.
She took the reigns and headed home--it did not come apart!
I asked her, and she said to me, “Was hoping you would come
and tell me how you adored me, how I made your heart drum...”

Clever lass, I realized then, to try and
catch her man
through trickery and sneakiness as subtle as she can!
When we arrived back at her home, I saw she’d lied again,
for her walls were papaered in new silk,
jeweled candlesticks she’d ten!

And furniture all carved in France a
hundred years before,
both Persian rugs and tiger skins were laid upon her floor.
“I thought you were a starving lass without a coin to steal!
With few fine jewels and no fine steed, but bats you liked to heal!”

She laughed and shook her pretty head,
“But you’ve lied to me, too!
It seems that poor and injured bat was none other than you!”
There came a knock upon my box, I wakened with a start.
‘twas none to fear, but was instead the two of gentle heart.

“Arise my Lord, it is sunset. You ought to make your way.”
I thanked them for their kindness and searched pockets for some pay.
To them I gave the gemmed buttons that decked my coat of black.
They graciously accepted and insisted I come back.

That night a fearful storm did brew to
take me from my feet.
I reached a ‘burg where I could rent a sailing ship most fleet.
I paid the Capt’ with what few rings remained upon my hand,
but since the storm was raging hard, for now we’d stay on land.

The morning came and searched for me,
but I was fast asleep
beneath a pile of moldy straw and burlap in a heap.
Again I found sweet Odessa, a vision shining bright
and recalled the things that did take place when came our last full night.

I’d cut myself before we’d met and bled
into a glass.
Excitement and fear built in me for what might come to pass.
To her I gave the stoppered glass inside a fine carved box
with golden key she was to use to open all the locks.

Explaining how my one quick bite had not
made her like me,
but one sip of my vampyre’s blood would cause the change in she.
I warned her not to try it yet, but if she’d think a bit
of all the things she’d surely miss like fresh roses sunlit,

like children fair with cornsilk hair out playing in the sun,
like chocolate cake, and pheasants baked, and picnics which are fun.
A life devoid of rainbows, an existence full of doubt,
of slumber in a coffin and the things cruel people shout.

The taste of blood most every night to
keep one’s looks like dew
and fear that every human being is out to murder you.
Cold castles drab in candlelight, an empty looking-glass,
and cold desire that burns you through
whene’er a youth does pass.

A fear of wood and silver nails and
things shaped like a cross,
with bats for friends and rats for pets and Evil for your boss.
So saying this, I handed o’er the treasure to her keep,
and left her sitting all alone as she began to weep.

When nightfall came I found my ship and
boarded with the crew.
We set the sail and sang old tunes and sipped the bo’suns brew.
Unfortune’tly I ‘came quite drunk and nearly lost my life
when the sun arose her fiery head and pierced me like a knife.

The first mate dragged me down below
and wrapped me in a cloak.
He watched my fevered slumber close and
snuffed out any smoke
he saw arising from my flesh, for it was
burned most raw,
and told me later it had been the worst he’d ever saw.

I healed quickly under his care and then
at dusk I woke.
I offered him my precious cape; he said he knew my folk,
for he had sailed with many dead and knew just what they need.
He showed his neck and smiled at me and I began to feed.

So full of fear that Odessa might scorn
me even yet,
I’d not drunk a drop for seven months, which made dear William fret.
Now full of “life” I felt so strong, the men said I looked good
with storm-cloud hair and bright clear
eye--the way I really should.

I disembarked most joyfully and ran off
toward the cliff
where I knew her to be buried--temporary was the riff
for she should arise this very eve and fall into my arms,
and we could last forever swept up in each other’s charms!

I found the grave and laughed with glee
and clawed against the earth.
My love had chosen vampyre’s life, the soil would soon give birth
to a lovely lady countess I could whisk back to my land
where I would dress her up in jewels and ask to have her hand!

The Heroic Benmont

I knew it! Yes, I’d known it! That foul
creatures lurked about!
I hid behind a grave marker and tried hard not to shout,
I lifted high my blessed weapon, I held it to the sky,
I bolted from my hiding place and easy as a pie

I thrust the stake into its back and
pushed it through to get its heart
or whatever cold and slimey thing did beat there as its part,
and turned and twisted and spun and churned the splintered wood inside...
The blood that spurted from its mouth! A most Satanic cry!

The daemon rocked upon its knees and
called a woman’s name
or the starting to some chant; to me its all the same.
I do not think the horrid thing was aware of true time,
for the sun broke through the last night clouds and boiled from its hide a foetid slime.

It clawed its chest and howled in pain so much to my delight!
Then tried some more to tear the earth--a most pathetic sight!
I removed then from my frock-coat a silver coated cross
which I placed upon its forehead just to let it know the Boss.

I saw off by our old white church a
group of neighbors stand.
I waved them to come over and they traipsed across the corpse-filled land.
Our good bishop was with them and he called to me by name,
“Benmont! Jeffery Benmont! What on Earth is this, a game?”

“No, no, no, my holy friend. A vampyre
have I killed!
I snuck behind him in the dark and in his back I drilled
a stake studded with sharpened knobs to gut the hellish ghoul—
he’s killed my hogs for oe’r a week, the stupid, stinking fool!”

The folk observed the body, how it lay
still in the sun,
and they murmured softly to themselves, but didn’t speak--but one
small voice cried shrilly out, “Why Mr. Jeffery, what you did!
‘twas a dog that stole your horrid pigs, not this poor man you rid!

Why look at him! He’s but a lad, not older than my brother!
So handsome, too, and smart I’d bet! What shall we tell his mother?”
I saw her then, a little girl, and to her did I speak,
“It’s not a handsome lad at all--a revenant! It’s a freak!

Born inside the fires of Hell, was ne’er a man at all!
Killed fifty thousand in his time--I’m sure much more would fall
had I not stopped him in his tracks from
feeding on this lady’s corpse.
As matter of, I watched him ride here on his skel’tal horse

down from those very storm clouds you
see fleeing to the east.
He rode it down and I even did have to kill that beast!
And threw its bones over the cliff on which the gulls can feed,
then tracked its master over here and with wood made him bleed!

You see, child, he’s a ghastly thing, a
shell without a soul,
with inability to love--his heart’s a lump of coal.
He’s not even a learn’ed beast, can neither read nor write,
and there is nothing he likes better than the innocent to fright!

You see those clothes upon his back? I’d
say he’s stolen those!
And now we must remove his head and tether up his toes,
pin down his joints with iron rods, stuff garlic in his mouth,
and plant him at a crossroads that I know of in the south.”

The men of the group they helped me
tote my rare prize far away,
and the bishop spoke of evil things that aren’t made of God’s clay.
We stuck him deep within the ground without a word of prayer,
then filled the hole with straw and burned the whole thing to ash layer.

I am a hero in my town and for many
miles around,
so sometimes I take people out and show them the very ground
where a vampyre lays, Satan’s son, the foulest of them all,
and still, for some unholy reason, I still hear him call...


Dig Team Detetcheverrie

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