The Old Names - A Poem

You foolish mortals any your petty magicks
Your weapons are useless
Your spells the mutterings of madmen
You think your words have meaning
You think you have wisdom
You think you can know me from my words
But I, like you, only say what I wish to say
Show what I wish to show
I cannot be bound, or exorcised, summoned, or banished
I go where I like, do what I wish
And if there is blood on my hands, it is because I have shed it,
Willingly
Think not you know me
For politeness aside, I am evil
I have torn the flesh of men and women
Tasted blood
Feasted on the souls of the weak,
And noble alike
The last shreds fall away,
and I will be revealed
Grinder
Render
Fiend
The words fall short
Paqok
Shtabai
Daeva
I am what I have always been,
But more than what I was
Ah Chuy Kak
Son of Cain
Glammour
Call me what you will
Coyote
Dajoji
Inua
The names are music in my ears
The wheel is complete
I have come full circle
To start again
To begin anew
My burden is mine
Chosen with volition
And purpose
Insidious
Deadly
And passionate
I walk among you.

Horror and the macabre are not, in my opinion, easily transferred into poetry. I think Poe was a Master of it, but I could not resist writing this, a free-verse poem from the point of view of an ancient, evil entity. - the Author

© Michael Vain. All Rights Reserved. May not be reproduced in any way without express written permission from the author.