Dark Poetry
                   Mirror Gazing
                                          By Benjamin Blake

Dead children, pressing tiny faces against window glass
One hundred little hearts pierced with tips of knitting-needles
Left deflated and leaking, beneath your clean white sheets
Winter arrived, catching her unawares while catching falling stars
You relished her radiance, drowned in her delightful spirit
Before extinguishing the flame which burned so bright, behind soft brown

Bodies stack up like lost limbs of countless trees
Blood drained, and collected in empty jam jars
They line your study walls, labeled in flawless font
Each bearing only a first name:
Sophie, Susie, Stefanie, Sophia
Little lives left for Death to collect like cigarette cards

Sleep soundly, savor the breath left in your lungs
For I am coming for you, on silent wings of night.
                 Perfect Suicide
                                         By Emily Jones

As I lie here in this wasted existence I turn to look at myself in the broken
mirrored glass
And watch all walls of my horrific past cave in
A mess lies behind and will always be there
Along with a few pieces of my broken heart
Tattered flesh and pools of blood sink into the previous road I have taken
For all that I have spilt hasn’t been enough
As I write this poetic note and leave it by the swinging rope
My body dangles in the air and my suicide is set…
                 Too Late
                                 By Emily Jones

On ancient grounds there lies a castle with spiralling walls and cobwebs up
Trees snake round like venomous vipers and roots swallow up the path
Up on a ledge on crumbling rocks stands a girl
With death in her eyes and a dagger to her breast
The fear in the wind toys with her hair and her unravelling mind penetrates
the knife at hand
Pouring in all of her rage and despair until darkness bursts out from her
very soul
As she starts to sway on the edge, her grasp becomes firm and with one
sharp blow
She pierces the heart inside her flesh and feels the very last beat stop
Her body goes limp and she drops to the depths below
Plummeting into the icy lake her father created
While the tides change to a scarlet red and her body fades into a pale sheet
The cries of her father echo around the island
And as he retrieves his frozen daughter from the clutches of death
He realises that he is too late…
                 Principles Of Evil
                                         By Emily Jones

Veins of lust lay deep in my heart scorching the innocence out of my soul
It carves a name as dark as fate into the palms of my buried mind
Torturing me while creating a monster to burst through these frail waves of
Concentrating on editing my brain to is satisfaction, I jolt and twist
Attempting to escape this path of doom I have been forced down by evil
I scratch and scream at the walls that close behind me and lock me in this
Trapped inside a corner of my own vessel and made to walk away from
While this demon sees the world through different eyes
And destroys everything in its path
In my name, blood is spilt
In my name, Death follows the body count
In my name, my soul is forever damned…
Poetry by Emily Jones and Benjamin Blake
To read other short stories,
click one of the titles below.
                   Acts Of Rage
                                         By Emily Jones

Violated bodies lay in pieces in the back street
As the blood flows like continuous rain down the gutter
Silent footsteps are announced
Each individual piece of flesh is decorated in pure hatred and domestic
violence acts
Lines run thinly down the side of necks
And huge teeth marks take up residence of the desiccated beings
They lay sprawled out like ice sculptures in an arena
All bruises and imperfections on show
As each breath was squeezed out and the life choked from those once
beautiful eyes
He feels nothing but pity
What a tragic ending to a once peaceful world…
                  Sleep Murmurs
                                                  By Benjamin Blake

Night falls, and brings with it forgotten songs
Of treachery, of past sins, and bleeding maidens
Sprawled across the lipstick-red covers
On that bed that was my cold slab of stone

I can’t stop talking in my staccato-like sleep
Murmuring sweet nothings to lovely Lucifer
The Devil knows my name by heart
An adopted father that was never disappointed

Death, don’t drag this out for any longer
I’ve given all I could, spilled every drop of blood from these vast veins
Sweat-soaked sheets shroud my weakened body
And my soul shrivels at the thought of God
                  In Colder Blood
                                          By Benjamin Blake

Inept smile cast upon the wasteland of youth
A naive cult of the consummated unwed
Their eyes may seem to hold a certain gleam
But the skin owns the chill of the recently dead
And fickle hearts are void of a slither of sincerity

These seeds planted in her desolate womb
Have no chance to ever flourish
And even if - by some slim of fate
Will be killed with the first hoar frost

This seasoned curse is irreversible
But I will still lie and wait in this darkened room
In hope to consume that Arctic-like flesh
In colder blood
                                  By Benjamin Blake

Shadows grow darker
Coalesce and envelope
Everything within sight

In nothing

The void breathes me in
For poetry by Ed
Pessalano, Susan Shultz
and T.C. Powell,

For poetry by Emily
Jones, and Benjamin
click here

For poetry by Stephanie
Smith, Justin Powel and
K.C. Fleming,
click here