Dark Poetry
Poetry by Alexis Child and Dustin Brian Heath
Witch Hammer
By Alexis Child


Psychic demons conjure
Desires of contorted control
Sadistically despotic visions
Seeds of ignorance sown
Desire of innocents' blood
Forges a mist of terrors
Wood to ash, flesh to bone
Witch hunters' black plague
The Devil's own

~+*dedicated to the memory of Joan of Arc*+~

"We are lost, for we have burnt a saint...
Those who quit the body violently are the most pure"
Queen of Ghosts
By Alexis Child


The invisible queen wanders
Through the shades of time
Goddess of the dark hours
Visits another side of my nature
Haunting a three-way crossroad
An ebony moon struggles to shine
Drawing down silence like the sky
Evening fogs the wishing glass
Extinguishing your footsteps
Where are you now?
This night-wandering Hecate
Is desolate as a deserted city
Trailing in the dust
Ghost hounds of hell sharply howl
With the bleak souls of the dead
Owls sit forever watchful
Silent in flight
A carrion-smell in their nests
We are lead into the shadows
Awaiting the blood-wise mystery
The clock will chime and shriek at 12
Disturbing centuries of bleeding statues
The limping ghost
Yearns to hurry to its death
So that a tear shall change its mind
With eyes gleaming silver
As grey ghouls in the moonlight
Will you come to me at midnight?


*A Dead-ication To: Carl McCoy of The Fields
of the Nephilim*
About Alexis Child
Alexis Child hails from Toronto, Canada; horror in its purest form: a calculated crime both against the
aspirations of the soul and  affections of the heart. She worked at a Call Crisis Centre befriending
demons of the mind that roam freely amongst her writings and lived with a Calico-cat child sleuthing
all that went bump in the night & is haunted by the memory of her cat. She is once again signed to
Nostilevo Records in the near future. Her goth rock band, Ceremony 7 will be reissued on this record
label in the Fall.

Her fiction has been featured in The House of Pain, Screams of Terror,SpecFicWorld.com, The Fields
of theNephilim Official  Website, Sinister City, and U.K.'s Dark Of Night Magazine. Her poetry has been
featured innumerous online and print publications, including Aphelion, Black Petals, Blood Moon  
Rising, EstronomiconeZine, Death Head Grin,Midnight Lullabies Anthology, Sein und Werden, The
Horror Zine and elsewhere. Her first collection of poetry, "Devil in the Clock," will be released in print
in the future by Witchfinder Press. Visit her website: http://www.angelfire.com/poetry/alexischild/
About Dustin Brian Heath
I am an avid reader and writer of poetry
who writes during my leisure from
being a Warehouse Management
System Coordinator in Macon, Georgia.
My work has appeared in The Horror
Zine, Sirens Call e-zine and will be
appearing in a forthcoming issue of
Infernal Ink.
Walking with the Dead
By Alexis Child


I wear the garb of the dead,
for I’ve never really lived.
I’m pleased as a murderer
who has dealt his blow
successfully.
I walk in the gloomiest
part of town—
black as the grave.
Was I being led by the devil
into this abode of human trash,
vice, and crime?
Could they steal my soul,
my sordid mind?
Who caused me to fall
into this trap?!
A few steps more and
it’s absinthe time.
Temptations of the world
my spirits revived, so
I write a letter to the dead.
This is where I long to be
and feel the shadows move across my skin.
Touch my scarred soul, and I will let you in.
Remember You Were There
                                 By Alexis Child


The moon dreams at night of ‘if it had
only been’, sailing over the witch’s
house to dissolve the sky sleeping
in the shadows of a guardian angel.

The woman’s pillow gathers shapes
of a wingless bird whose weary
skeleton sings a song, proving fatal:
darkness through which we fall.

Moonlight, then daylight, recall
no face, taking you unprepared as a nail
driven into the centre of the world.
The lunar orb draws pentagrams,
resting in its obsidian vault, evoking
new worlds within its secret eye.
Gaslight Ghoul
         By Alexis Child


By gaslight's ghostly sheen
I tread these cobblestone streets
This quest could lead anywhere
But to death's despair
My soul knows no resistance
Haunted London is vigilant
Cold evening air
Trembles with fright
Should secrets
Like ghosts take flight
Tell, where have I been laid to rest?
Never fear one haunting less
Content to roam amongst the dead
In even-tide's eternity I lay my head
The Mutant Muse of Dr. Seuss
                         By Dustin Brian Heath


Dark reflections lie in dusty archives,
Hidden like terrible terror on the face of joy.
Critically disclaimed bedtime stories
Manifest new chills of aberration
In the mockery of G rated splendor;
Atrocious tales for spooky kids
Among the abominable literature of Dr. Seuss.

The thinks he could think are unknown
From the allure of his mutant muse
That fondled thoughts like sensual poison;
Wrapping her beastly sanguine arms around altered fiction
To create the art of horror.

Reveling in darkness and Halloween spectacles
Deformed characters and sinister rhymes
Taint the origins of beloved books;
Rough drafts of infernal influence
Concealed in the vault of forbidden words.

Bram Stoker gives grave applause to The Bat in the Hat,
Cannibals rejoice for Green Eggs and Pam,
Ghosts laugh at the irony of Horton Hears a Boo!
As minds will only wonder and fear
The Monsters That Shrill from Lonster’s Mill.

The 500 Knives of Bartholomew Cubbins
Pierce the brain like a Lovecraftian butcher,
While The Whoville Horrors are eager to be read
Eyes touch the torment of a praised author
As these writings forever enshrine
The mutant muse of Dr. Seuss.
To read other short stories,
click one of the titles below.
Resurrection Barbie
 By Dustin Brian Heath


She sits on the shelf staring without a blink
As her mischievous grin of childish novelty
Hides the intentions of a plastic soul.
A pretending model of wickedness
Awaits the arrival of the moon;
When the Sandman lies on plush pillows
Summer Barbie is ready to play!
For poems by Alexis Child
and Dustin Brian Heath,
click here

For poems by Denny E.
Marshall and John Frazee,
click here

For poems by Kate Garrett
and Jason Constantine
Ford,
click here