Vampyre

 

Atop the Romani moor,

Where the endless sea crashes forever,

There lies a castle, whose ruins now stand

Like a corpse of five centuries.

In its stone chambers lies the count, who gazing at the distance,

Reminisces the old days, the pride he had

And now there is nothing, except for the canines,

The cape and the irresistible taste of blood...

 

The world had abandoned him long ago

Deserted him to the lonely darkness

The darkness in which he remembers his past...

As he marched a thousand into the Turkish fields

Took down and made the Ottomans bleed

The Sultanate would shiver at his name, would freeze and see

the Dracul general against the bloodied sun –

and now he shivers at the dark future of his world...

 

Her name was Catalina, or so he remembers

Her face rosy, her skin white

The only person whom he loved,

The only one for whom he lived on,

But the devil-plague took her, rid her of beauty

And was soon reduced to nothing but a mere skeleton –

A flashback of what she was once

A memory of the Draculian wife...

 

The General was devastated

He had been pulled away from his source of life

Still he fought, still he massacred enemies

But deep within the spirit had died.

Upon a dark nocturne, when the full moon shone high in the clouds

This lone man, the blood-lust general jumped

And fell into the abyss, dark beneath...

The moon shone on, illuminating the black jagged cliff...

 

...and still shone upon the lonely castle

As the man now looks out, gazing the sea,

He stretches his hands out into the air –

Songs of sorrow echoing from his heart –

And laughs – laughter which sounds so creepy

So macabre as it reverberates the stone chambers of the castle...

His howls of maddening fill the air –

The traveller takes it to be the musings of a ghost.

 

He was abused and distressed while being a child

Seeing blood had become a regular habit.

Leading a cursed life as a professor,

Getting no payment, ridiculed by the people,

He shunned himself from society, emptied of feelings

He got tired of life at a pretty early age.

And so, on a dark nocturne,

Where the clouds covered the half-moon in the sky,

He left to where his two eyes went,

Left for nowhere, left where

Humanity wouldn’t care to look for.

 

But what’s the point of this confused narrative?

Where words and lines spill nowhere?

Why do I write this in the stone chambers of the

castle, whose ruins now stand

Like a corpse of five centuries?

My eyes now drip with water – my foot hits suddenly

Onto a stone, cutting wide open, from where

Blood drips...drips...drips...

 

Blood. Yes. Blood it was.

 

The Dracul general was me after all,

The same man who killed off Turks, covered the meadows with blood,

The same man who lost his only love in the world

The same man who was now detached from everyone,

Whose mind throbs with an unknown disease...

Whose senses get so attracted to blood,

Who now descends down the winding staircase,

To roam in the darkness of the night

To roam where no one even dared to go

To roam where the love of five centuries waited

To roam like one who never cared for anything

And, thus I keep down my pen –

The words now turning red with joy

As I now run, run in the nocturnal tunnels

And become what many fear

Those corpses which suck the blood out of the living

But remain so secluded and depressed all time

I become – 

a ‘Vampyre’.

 

***

M.Macabre

20.10.2021