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Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Ének a Vámpír Pennsylvania


Song of the Pennsylvania Vampire

On a feed through Pennsylvania,
I felt a need for my old Transylvania.
A Hungarian first of Czech descent,
It matters not, where those Magyars went.
I fled Romania after our war,
Fearing death, and butchery I abhor.

My dear wife is owed some transcription here,
Of life abroad, since I turned vampire.
An ache for blood, a thirst for souls,
Makes my curse much worse than coal.

I've had my minute in these United States,
Ran for Senate, won that race.
Alas one night debating abolition,
To a lovely woman, I became a victim.

That trip to Richmond I was young,
And that woman, seduced by her tongue.
By a coal black night, a butchery she made,
She drank my soul, and left this instead.

She let enough to quench her thirst,
The cruelest wench she ensured a curse.
"There now learn, you're just a slave!
"As all in life, senators, knaves."

Weeks no breath, not a crust of bread.
I hated water, was nearly dead.
I longed for salt, meat made me gag,
How I cursed that harlot hag.

My return to health, when at last I fed,
From a pool of blood by a train wreck death.
Just one drop touched my lips,
From a wound lifted by fingertips.

Police and medics shoved me aside,
And recovered the body of that poor child.
I knew at once what raced through my veins,
From my ancestral place, with the Hungarian name.

American life had realized,
What lurked inside all these centuries.
What the genes desire nourishes immortality,
And is exchanged for curses from humanity.

My limbs grew strong, power took hold.
I now longer bathed, my flesh grew cold.
The Senate I visited a few times more.
I did not speak, but even'd the score.

One dozen slavers met grisly ends,
In weeks preceding that rebel Congress.
By night I rampaged Virginian earth,
Slicing necks of hypocritical birth.

South Mason-Dixon I sought William Preston
Who advanced that bill for southern succession.
At Smithfield Mansion, his veins got bled,
To a pale husk in his plantation bed.

A lamplit shipyard one gloomy nautch,
Two Yankee mariners stood final watch.
The apparition that drained their youth,
Had pale skin while he robbed their truth.

Below decks the prisoners released,
But nicked all first so soon they'd feed.
Into the South a curse dispersed,
To catch their masters and quench their thirst.

I settled north of Philadelphia town.
A lover of humanity I was all round.
A giant mansion walls four bricks thick,
Unable to sell - ghosts inhabited it.

But I took no notice of the wailing wraiths,
Who screamed by night while I slept by day.
Terrified neighbors would not enter,
The well-guarded home of an absentee renter.

That great friendly city of men,
Much good living was gotten then,
A squalid hospital, filled with despair,
Souls who received more hope than care.

I avoided gangrene in those terrible hours,
As a midnight nurse with beastly growls.
Bedside doctors passed by early morn,
To find no pulses, the lads were gone.

No plague of death would decide the war,
Days would come without a God at all.
I brazenly gorged on rivers spilt,
After Shiloh's spoils, the ground ripe with salt,

From that moment on I drank to live,
And was mindful all life's a gift.
One small child with a small play ball.
Torn by polio, I thought might fall.

His joy was hot as plumes of smoke,
From a tiny match, that tiny bloke.
Tenderly, gratefully I seized that life.
And felt it multiply deep inside.

Ever green leaf nourishes a desire
Of not being consumed so to flower higher?
Though all beings must pass as food,
Features of life to make us brood.

Battles, hospitals, highways, schools,
Our kind followed blood in pools.
Waste no drops when it comes to drinking,
Won't spill essence or take more than needing.

Our kind loves water, despite the myth.
But live dry like vipers to conserve our strength.
We lie in places where Death can follow,
And trim the herd, like a wolf that's solo.

Was a lifetime battle ever won?
A victorious vampire, at Bull Run?
I'll hunt again, yet these poems I haunt,
So many I've penned, stay forever gaunt.

Where legions of brave mortals go,
Like me now lie forever cold.
Whose hearts once beat now have stained souls,
By a lust for fluids, stolen and drained.

From poor Antietam's hallowed ground,
An old soldier I bled in Gettysburg town.
The slightest count of lives I gored,
Crows over that frightful Civil War.

'Neath falling leaves I follow'd a wake.
Old oak trees blessed by souls to take.
On a Presbyterian, I soon would nurse,
Then swoon at her riverside funeral hearse.

By wars end my strength became legion,
From lives lost by that infamous region.
My fears of drowning dissipated,
Deep in rivers, I patiently waited.

And from the littoral depths one night
An unfortunate swimmer drowned in sight,
Her cowardly lover thrashed towards shore.
They found both bodies by early morn.

Up where Lake Eire's watery basin ends,
I took a mason's daughter named Jenn.
The next night, giving thanks for fun,
I dropped with fright, then drank her son.

And along the gorgeous Lackawanna,
I fanged a lanky gal named Joanna.
One lover tonight sings a randy tune,
Then died of fright, beneath a Brandywine moon.

Vampires love to sing and roam,
Though night ends with fangs and bright red foam.
Music is a way we have,
Of seducing lovers before their death.

As much as possible I try to spare,
The fit and healthy, those ardent at prayer.
Paralyzing pleasure, a yoga learned,
Drink then depart a miserable worm.

Now I tour rivers, streams, and lakes,
Backyard play sets, and outdoor bakes.
But alas our species can't decide,
What food shall nourish our soiled insides.

How I long for my damp bed in Most,
Where I long ago buried my old Czech ghost,
To his cellar dark and wet,
I won’t go there, at least not yet.
I long to sleep a thousand years,
How I've wept such poisonous tears!

I have mines to visit, shafts of coal,
Towns to blacken with my cursed soul.
To roam the rainy Allegheny nights,
And see what plain poetry can fright.
Hungry, thirsty, starved for more,
I can't be saved, except by metaphor.

My words grow pale, I've drained them all,
By my wolfen howl, and coyote call.
Alas I forage for inspired verse,
Pages dying from my curse.

My wit is sharp, I have teeth like knives,
I can't stop feeding upon these lives.
The tragedy is I can't drink enough,
Words like me, and I like words, like love.
Through restless hills, on an endless trek,
I caress my fill, from thighs and neck.

As banded trout run up Northkill Creek,
A freckled young one caught this week.
Where Schuylkill's waves burst the Delaware,
My depraved thrill was her worst nightmare.
When the swift Susquehanna floods at peak,
I shape shift my blood towards the Chesapeake.

When nighttime comes, my heartbeat soars,
Frightening doom with back street roars.
I hope and pray for a cure from God,
But as night turns day it ends in sod.
Come rosy dawn, I slink to my berth,
Cozy anon, in stinking earth.

To toss and dream with bowels aching,
Or howl and scream at my future staking.
The way to hunt me is to offer a feast,
Of words that stun me, my hope of peace.
But the touch of soil, my native mud,
Brings to boil, my lust for blood.


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