Revenant

The Joust

~ Iyan Igma

I meet him ‘neath a copse of birch
At our ritual rendezvous,
Feigning confident comfort. My
Charger neighs at a bat that flew

By just a second hence. The cruel
And heartless Sable Knight would soon
Arrive. Luna and Astros hung
‘Bove on my dark maiden’s festoon.

I was eager to join with her
And enjoy romance for hours,
Thus his tardiness upset me.
Then, the presence of dark powers

Announced his coming long before
His dark forces manifested
Themselves as the shadowy knight’s
Dread form, in whom is invested

A power much like Charon’s, though
He never grants safe passage to
The soul over the Styx, instead
He haunts his victims with life. “You

Are late,” I growled, trying to seem
More confident than I was not.
His disregard of my contempt
Was like an haughty Tsar’s. I thought

I saw him smile. He must delight
In the futile struggle I wage
To be free of his control.
With the whimsy of his aged rage

That pervaded his actions and
Festered his mind, and to which he
Was oblivious, he said, “We’ll
Joust tomorrow, if you beat me

You can reclaim your soul and be
Free finally. Do you agree?”
I had little choice, as he knew.
“And if not, what happens to me?”

“That’s not an option. We’ll joust once
More, for you’ve sold your soul to me.
I expect you here when dawn breaks:
I’ll be keeping time faithfully.

Don’t look so glum, for tomorrow
Might be when you beat me at last.”
I doubted this, as did he, for
More than eight thousand times had passed

And made my failures bitter and
Freedom’s dream sad desperation.
I knew as well as he did what
Would befall my situation.

Tomorrow night we’d meet again
To renew this disturbed accord.
But one must fight while there’s a chance,
Though it be slim. Without a word

He ceased to be, as far as my
Eyes could see, for I was headed
For the sumptuous company
Of the maid I never wedded,

For she would drift away each day,
But then, all ladies are fickle.
We made our night a pleasant one,
And as dawn began to tickle

With feathery pinks and purples,
I made goodbye a vivid dance
Of passions to recall me by.
I donned my armour, grabbed my lance,

Mounted my steed, and galloped to
The predestined field of battle.
My sable foe’s arm threw his lance
Like an Aztec an atlatl

Where he waited idly. “You’re late;
I’ve waited for two minutes now.
Not that it matters, soon enough
You will be vanquished anyhow.

Take your place. Muster your valor.
Feign to have honor, or your mule
Might suspect its rider’s a fool.”
I ignored him. My mind was cool

As the brooks we never bathed in,
Lest we should catch our death and die.
I made ready, then he gave the
Sign, and large clumps of earth did fly

From furiously flitting hooves. Through
The visor I could see him glare
With his red eyes back at me, but
I returned his devilish stare.

I aimed a blow I was sure would
Hurtle this demon through the air,
But he absorbed the shock and seemed
Like he had not a single care.

His own blow I deflected with
My arm’s quick instincts with a shield.
The tremendous force of the thud
Jarred my bones, but I would not yield.

I barely retained my saddle,
And my lance was only splinters.
I grabbed a new lance with which to
Pummel this fiend from the hinter

Parts of the nethermost regions.
He gave the sign again. We rode
With Mercury’s own swift Godspeed,
And the dark cloud passing forebode

Of a perilous encounter.
I deflected his blow with my
Shield again, even as my own
Lance targeted his bloodstained eyes.

His visor dented, and for a
Long moment I could find no air
To breathe as he hung on the brink
Of falling metallically square

Upon his face. Did I just win?
But his gauntlets clung to his reins,
And he remained, though loosened, in
His saddle. “That rattle your brains?”

I taunted, glad to have some of
My own little arrogance back.
I regretted those words when next
We charged, for he did seem to crack

Every joint in my sore body,
Making both my ears whine and ring.
My vision clouded, and for a
Moment I could not see a thing.

Still I managed not to falter.
I was sure that I was bleeding.
My lance but grazed his black buckler.
I ruefully felt like heeding

The words of my sagacious ma’am
That “Knights in armor shouldn’t joust.”
But a wisp of teasing freedom
Whispered to me that I would oust

My adversary if I tried.
I just hoped that it hadn’t lied
To deceive this gullible heart
That, like chivalry, would nigh die.

I took a lance for the fourth time,
Vowing that I would make my mark
This day in this solitary
Tourney, and live today till dark.

As we galloped to certain death,
I thought to try a dirty deed.
At the last moment I moved my
Lance, and instead hit his black steed.

The shaft exploded and pieces
Darted through its galloping legs.
The cursed horse’s armor saved him.
His look said I would drink the dregs

Of rotten bitterness wrung out
For this treachery, as if he
Expected me to have honor
Against a ghoul that lacked any.

His silent vow was true for I
Nearly flew headlong from my horse
When he smote my shield, launching it
At my body with monstrous force.

My visor hung upon one hinge,
My breastplate and valor dented.
The rising sun caught his empty
Armour and piercingly glinted,

Blinding me for a second as
My foe began his mad gallop
Intent to rip me open like
A ray rips open a scallop.

“Charlemagne, this is it for us,”
I told my steed as we started
Our mad rush into destiny.
At least he was not faint-hearted.

His hoofbeats sound our progress, and
His nostrils are wildly flaring.
Sweat was flying. I could tell not
One ounce of strength was he sparing.

The lance a dull and deadly weight
In my arm. The saddle creaking.
The broken visor’s fierce whistle.
The armor clanging and squeaking.

The Sable Knight is upon me.
At this moment I am not scared.
His horse was in a rabid rage.
Then it sounded like trumpets blared,

Though we were alone. I struck. He
Teetered. Perhaps I would prevail.
Too soon came my triumph; too soon
Came all the force and wrath of hell.

My shield is rent asunder, and
A hail of splinter shrapnel flies.
Pain rips through me as the head of
His lance plunges where my heart lies,

Through the heavy plated armor
And chain mail deep into my chest.
With the furor of the Harpies,
It puts my cardiac at rest.

The lance breaks in twain as I fall
Off of Charlemagne, my dear mount.
Dust rises and dust subsides as
My corpse clatters upon the ground.

Running hooves slow and circle round;
His helmet hovers o’er my face.
Then, he lifts his dented visor,
But Fengari on Samothrace

Gives off more light and is far more
Pronounced than his features, the eyes
Of course excepted. They tell me
That it’s time to go. As death lies

Upon me like a layer of oil,
I step from my maimed cadaver.
Vile vultures come to pick at my
Warm corpse, thinking they’ve found havre

For their scavenging lusts, but I
Shall reinhabit it tonight.
He grabs my ghost and spirits me
Away from this world into light.

The knight is cold and unfeeling,
And devoid of conversation.
But that has been the case on
Each transmundial migration.

The memories of our joust fade
To eternal recollection’s
Oblivion. I sigh and groan,
Wearied by my insurrection,

From this battle which has raged for
Years, to which there’s no end in sight.
I vow I’ll best him tomorrow,
As my sight’s seared by intense light.

I’ll break the curse of my bondage,
Ending our repitual fight
For dominance by jousting. ‘Swounds,
I miss my maiden of the night!

I get up from my bed, leaving
My dreams to rot and decompose
Like ice upon a stove’s eye where
Only a memory morose

Of water might remain as it
Rejoins to the vapors unseen.
Already sections disappear
From this strange feudalistic scene.

I pound the blaring alarm and
Recognize the demonic eyes
That bested me. I must sally-
Forth to work soon, so I arise.

Lilith Strigoi

~ Iyan Igma

Our town was a peaceful one, till
Something had attacked the others
Without more rhyme or reason than
To suck blood. Our gray grandmothers

Occasionally tried to speak,
Since this plague had happened before.
But they never gave the details,
Lest they witness what they abhor.

After all, speaking of evil
Increases its demonic force.
I feared to encounter this fiend,
Since our whispers but did endorse

It all the more. A cat followed
Me with its nocturnal eyes
Now accustomed to harsh daylight.
Its gaze my hackles did apprise;

I looked at it, and it at me.
I fingered the stakes in my pouch
And went to the cemetery,
Hoping that the beast didn’t crouch

Behind a tombstone that would mark
The site of my undying death.
The chill, autumnal, rustling wind
Was no match for my raspy breath.

A raven came to spy on me;
It cocked its head this way and that.
I searched among the sepulchres,
And it watched me from where it sat.

I searched vainly through the graveyard,
But found no holes nor sunken plots.
Unsatisfied, I was glad to
Leave, for the day only allots

A sliver of the sun’s haven
To guard us from wretched vampires.
When night falls, it seems we are just
Lying on our funeral biers.

How many men had been taken
By this ghoul of ill-repute?
There must have been at least twenty
In three weeks, or I’ll kiss a newt.

It was hard to say what was worse,
Finding their cold, pallid bodies—
As empty of their life force as
Water in a Saudi wadi—

Or having to desecrate friends
To control the vile contagion.
By Jove, they’d not rise up more, e’en
By the Pope who raised up Trajan.

An owl watched me from my rooftop.
“Fie on you, you traitorous knave!”
I yelled at it anxiously. Why
Couldn’t the animals behave?

What force makes them watch over me,
As if I were a peace of meat?
Why’s this owl out during the day?
Would he eat the roof’s mustard seeds?

It’s a shame I had no woman,
For I could use her kindly smiles
To comfort me in these dark times
Burgeoning with dark wicks and wiles.

I locked my windows and doors tight,
And hid behind my drawn curtains.
Something told me not to worry;
Something told me death was certain.

I knelt to pray like I’d never
Done before, though I’d gone to mass.
Time stood still, but when I arose
I saw that an hour did pass.

I looked around. I was prepared
As I’d be without the Last Rites.
I settled into my bed dressed,
Wanting the peace of prior nights.

Somehow I managed to drift off
Into dream’s hallucinations.
I awoke, startled to have slept.
I’m covered in condensation.

I want to roll back into dreams,
But what is drawing back my shades?
There’s no one there that I can see,
But something’s moving my brocades.

A cloud must have freed the moonlight,
For gray tones showed a smiling shape.
I could tell she was a woman,
She was exposed from knee to nape.

She hovered outside my window,
Her gaze easily hypnotized.
I never thought death was so pretty,
Needless to say, I am surprised.

She materialized within;
The windows were still locked, it seemed.
Her feet never touched the floor.
She approached, but I never screamed.

She was a plump and healthy dame,
Did rouge make her cheeks so rosy?
The mirror cast no reflection.
“Mind if I make myself cozy?”

She asked with a sultry voice
That overpowered my senses.
She had made it to my bedside,
Past strands of garlic defenses.

She pulled back my navy covers;
She was still in complete control.
She bent to kiss with her small fangs.
Would this Succubus steal my soul?

My mortal mind was mortified,
My heart welcomed the abduction.
I don’t know how I defeated
The Empusa’s sweet seduction.

My hand darted ‘neath my pillow,
And the stake’s service it impressed.
I plunged it into her bosom;
She staggered back clutching her chest.

I sprang out of bed poised to run:
She gave me a becoming pout.
Any second she would collapse;
She smiled at me and pulled it out.

Then, she licked the blood from the stake,
And how enticing were those lips.
She cast it aside violently,
And came after me on healthy hips.

I trembled lighting a match, and
Dropped it to set off my next trap.
I would not die without a fight;
I almost went due to mishap.

The oil ignited on the floor,
And its flamy passion licked me.
I moved. Surely the light’d kill her.
Then, something came flying at me.

What horror do I recognize?
It is the raven that I saw
Watching in the cemetery.
A banshee’s shriek was as its caw,

For I knew it was this demon
Who’d just performed transmigration.
‘She goes out by day! Light’s useless!’
I thought in sad meditation.

I fled into the rose garden
By paranoia transplanted.
Surely with such difficulty,
This horror would have recanted.

But she’d set her eyes upon me,
And pursued with perseverance.
She changed from raven to cat form,
And claws extended she did prance

Straight through my little rose garden,
Which should have warded her away.
They must not be the right species.
Didn’t I see this cat today?

The cat gave a knowing wink and
Began bathing its silky fur.
It changed back into the soulless
Huntswoman, though she still did purr.

She took one more step toward me,
And I knew that I’d soon be dead
If I tarried any longer.
I gathered my respect and fled.

I ran across the river’s bridge,
Thinking to have some respite.
But I saw her form crossing too,
Through the mists of the night.

She seemed like she enjoyed the hunt.
I marvelled, since the water flowed.
No one opened their doors to help.
They feared more the more I bellowed.

They feared they’d be victimized, too.
They knew what made me so afraid.
I sprinted on the cobblestones.
It seemed that only God could aid.

I hoped He was in a good mood,
That He wasn’t sawing lumber
So He’d hear my supplications.
But then He sleeps not nor slumbers.

This had better not be the night
In which He decided to try.
I glanced back at my predator
Who’d changed into an owl to fly.

She’s been stalking me all day long;
I’m sure then she’ll stalk me all night.
Night saw the prey and predator,
And they were both engaged in flight.

Reaching the cathedral at last,
I yell, “This is dedicated!”
I knew she couldn’t enter in.
I’d never appreciated

Holy ground so much until now.
Is she tugging there at the door?
She has profaned its sanctity!
I cause Holy Water to soar

Through the air and it drenches her.
The moments pass by like a dream.
She’s clutching at her face wildly,
And as she screams I look for steam.

I saw none but heard her crying.
Then, I saw she was mocking me.
Not even Holy Water helps!
I dashed to grab a rosary.

As I turned to wield my weapon,
She laughed. Her hands slipped round my throat.
I knew that shortly I would be
An offering to make her bloat.

“Did you really think that would work?”
She asked lifting me in the air.
Below me candles burn to saints
Who could not answer my last prayer.

The giant crucifix’s crown
Of thorns is equal with my head.
She looks at me and smiles sweetly.
“No one needs to mourn for the dead,”

She said, and the words gave me chills.
“For the living are who suffer.”
“Please, release me,” I cried. But she
Decided to hold me rougher.

“Do you now believe in folklore
You deigned since you believe in God?”
Her lips were close to mine. I shook,
But I somehow managed to nod.

“I have tried everything,” I said
Trying to stall this revenant
From feasting. “How can I beat you?”
“The answer simply is, ‘You can’t.'”

I saw slumping priests in stained glass
Alcoves watching me in their death.
I was paralyzed by horror;
My neck could feel her vampire breath.

Vetala

~ Iyan Igma

You think that my heart is cold;
Have you thought to ask why?
My heart is but fullerite.
Vengeance is my ally.

I was crazy for your love.
I loved your affection.
But I became more insane
At the first detection
Of your villainous treason.
Hate was an infection.

I caught him. In the tussle
My spirit left its dorms,
Evicted to seek a place
In its bodiless form.

You knew that I’d seek revenge,
Despite my Atman’s karma.
Under these circumstances
I’ll ignore the Dharma.

How can I be standing here?
This corpse should be rotten.
Cadavers don’t rot when they’re
Of my power begotten.

You marvel at my tattoos?
They’re burned into my skin.
I had to rid my presence
Of worms wriggling within.

My sockets have no eyeballs,
Because I went insane
And gouged them out with my nails.
They were a meal arcane.

You think these holes can’t see you;
But, if it’s all the same,
They’re far from blind or empty,
For they are lit with flame.

They can see through anything.
Your spirit has black spots.
It pierces me to think that
Once I cherished you lots.

Seeing all, I see that you
Never cared about me.
I was just a trifling thing
You liked infrequently.

I’m here to do some mischief;
I’ve been drawn by your musks.
Do not fear for your lover,
His ribs are now my tusks.

I crushed them, sending pieces
Into his lungs and heart.
Ere he died he knew my name.
I ripped his chest apart.

With his broken ribs I gashed
His precious face to shreds.
It doesn’t matter, for you
Would never kiss the dead,
And I’ll have no kiss from you.
Why do you stare at my head?

Is it because there’s no hair?
I scalped the whole mess off.
What’s left’s a bleeding abscess.
I’ve ne’er been one for boffs,

But this joke is so precious
To see you trembling there
Aghast at your bald man
Who later scalped his hair.

Why, darling you always said
You liked a man who’s bald.
Why does my sight frighten you?
You’d think your heart had stalled.

But that it will soon enough.
You’ll meet my sharpened ribs’ tusks
That will take off your skin like
Fresh corn’s silky husks.

There’s no mantra to save you
From the forces trapped in
The hideous, moribund
Corpse I take refuge in.

Should you even attempt it,
Another one I’ll take.
For I won’t be satisfied
Until your neck I break.

Soon I’ll leave this body
When my mischief has spread,
And Fate finds you dismembered,
Mangled up, maimed, and dead.

We’ve Been Waiting

~ Iyan Igma

How long has it been since I’ve come
To this town that was once my home?
Have six years really passed away?
It feels just like it were a day.
The lightning illuminated
This settlement so sedated.
I wonder if it’s me that’s changed,
Or this town from which I’m estranged.
I presume we are both guilty,
Surely that’s why it’s so ghostly.
The Sawyer’s roof has fallen in.
Most homes don’t seem to be lived in.
No steam is rising from the mill
That several city blocks does fill.
Broken glass marks where windows were.
I thought I saw a darting blur.
But no one seems to move about,
And all the power has gone out.
But that’s nothing more than this storm.
It’s time to find that ever warm
Greeting I know I will receive
From mom and dad, for I believe
That they’ll be shocked by my surprise
Visit. My how time quickly flies.
Have the pears ripened in the grove?
What feast’s mom cooking on the stove?
Will dad be sitting in his chair?
Is there less color in their hair?
Have their glasses grown much thicker?
Do they still playfully bicker?
Has mom done more embroidery?
Does dad still play the lottery?
A million questions, maybe more,
Followed me till I reached their door.
The lights were out, and no one came
To the door. I called them by name
As I entered. This door’d never
Been locked in my whole life. Howe’er,
No one responded to my calls.
I wandered through the dusty halls,
Groping and fumbling in the dark.
No one was home; the air was stark
And musty. Where would they have gone?
I wandered to the telephone
Where I’d called them the week before.
As I reached it, I heard a door
Bang shut, though it could have been a
Shutter. I asked, “Who’s there?” Dismay
Was my only reply. I picked
Up the receiver. Something clicked
In the hall, and I turned my head,
Realizing that the line was dead.
The storm must have knocked out the lines.
There was the sound of a fork’s tines
Screeching down a metal surface.
I rushed to see what was the fuss.
But there was nothing I could see,
Since the light was obscurity.
I sought the kerosene lantern,
And as the wick began to burn
I was grateful to have the light,
Since darkness can produce a fright
Of harmless shadows and nonsense,
Despite your age or competence.
Great solace comes from believing
In naught because you see nothing.
My valor came by lantern fire
And convinced my mind to inquire
Into the noises heard of late,
Though my heart would fain liquidate
Its assets while it’s still ahead.
I scoffed at my ungainly dread,
And walked about my old dwelling
To spite Phobos for its swelling.
Though the light played tricks with my eyes,
I unmasked the dark’s each disguise.
There was nothing lurking about.
I decided to wait them out.
They’d return perhaps tomorrow.
Tired, I went upstairs to borrow
The room which I had occupied
When as a lad I did reside
Here. A lightning bolt told me the
Room was empty, the bed neatly
Made, like an oyster dredged from the
Sea to rip apart messily.
I set the light on the dresser
Old as Edward the Confessor.
Lying down in lilac perfume,
Nature called me from the bathroom.
Intent that I would not betray
Its confidence, I made my way
Down the corridor to its door.
The darkness hid the changed decor
That mom had mentioned months ago.
A sudden gust of wind did blow,
Turning the flame into a glow
That died, making the pitch pall grow.
Did it suffer from some malaise?
Then, chillbumps on my flesh did raise,
And my hair stood on its end
As terror began to descend
On me. I didn’t understand,
Till I saw a dark figure stand
Directly in front of my face.
My feet seemed bolted fast in place.
I knew that this must be a ghost.
To my soul it gave quick riposte,
“My son, we’ve waited long for you.”
“Dad?” I thought, ‘Is this really you?’
The door slammed behind me and locked;
My escape route had now been blocked.
He lifted me from off my feet;
Forcefully he began to beat
Me ‘gainst the walls. The mirror broke.
Ethereal fingers did choke
Me. I’m sure that my neck was bruised,
I blacked out as the pain suffused
Through my body. When I came to,
All that I could smell was mildew.
Rising carefully to my feet,
I wondered what ghost would then greet
Me. Why had dad been so violent?
It must be a malevolent
Spirit and not him, because he
Always acted pacifically.
What had happened to my parents?
They’d never been so aberrant.
Had this home and whole town been cursed?
I couldn’t help but fear the worst.
Has he really locked me in my
Closet? This would be no Versailles
Where I’d wait for impending doom.
I made too much noise in the gloom
As I burst through the slatted door.
The ghost returned with many more.
They advanced from the window’s side,
Calling for my blood and hide.
As the door closed, I bolted through.
Downstairs I could smell mom’s beef stew,
But I had no appetite now.
I would be in it anyhow.
Leaping down the stairs franticly,
Mom’s fine China crashed into me.
Papers flew in a tempest’s gust,
Scorching me when they would combust
On contact. My singed hair reeked. Dim
Pain gave way to adrenaline.
I could hear the chairs as they slid
Intensely. Running like I did
When I was a kid, I reached
The hall. It seems a banshee screeched,
But I held quickly to my soul.
Where I’d just stood there was a hole.
The wall was riddled with mom’s knives.
I was a cat with fewer lives.
The grandfather clock doubled me
Over, but I arose to flee.
The front door was getting close, and
Then I was pinned by a book stand.
“Why are you running from us, son?”
He asked, like Attila the Hun
Gazing on the Roman Empire
Or Gaul as he set them afire,
Confused at why they squirmed about
With their hideous screams and shouts.
“Aren’t you happy to see your dad?
We gave you everything you had.
Now, there’s one thing that you can give
To us so that we too may live.”
I was too horrified to speak,
And I heard the wall begin to creak.
Where one knife was lodged deep in the
Wall, it struggled to become free.
Trapped by the shelf and mesmerized
By its movements, I realized
That I would never leave this home,
Despite the fact that I was grown.
The spirits advanced, and the knife
Flew at me. I fainted. My life
Would have surely come to an end.
The pain woke me, since I’d been skinned
On my legs, arms, and abdomen.
Nothing within my blurry ken
Could I see besides mom’s stew pot.
It was boiling, but I could not
Discern what was cooking inside.
I feared that it would be my hide.
There were no ghosts that I could see,
So I ran away to be free
From the place that had enslaved me
With bonds so violent and ghostly.
The front door’s handle wouldn’t turn.
It was never locked! Fear did burn
Within me, thus I jumped right through
The window, glass and all, into
The sick birth of a twisted dawn.
I had no time to hurt or fawn
About, for shapes did appear
On the porch of the house once dear
To me for childhood’s sake. They chased
Me slowly until dawn erased
Their figures, and I had returned
To a world where spirits sojourn
As spectators without power.
The old ghost town seemed to glower
At me as I hobbled away.
Though atheist, I felt to pray.
The phenomenon that I’d seen
Had changed my view of everything.
As I approached the bus stop, there
Was a faint rustling in the air.
I could almost hear my name called,
As the words touched me, they did scald
My body’s many open wounds.
My ankle was just then harpooned
By a fist clutching from the ground.
Their grave sites I seemed to have found.
I tried to kick the dead hand off,
But I just heard a sandy scoff.
Many are rising from the soil,
Hoping that they might later boil
My flesh that they might feed on me.
Like a voracious wolf pack prowls,
They circle me. I hear their growls.
A slimy fiend steps from the pack
Whose recognition makes me back
Away in fear. This perfidy
Must be the greatest tragedy,
For my decaying mom stood there.
“Son, you shall not go anywhere.”
“But mom, I thought that you loved me.”
She replied, “‘Memento mori.’
What did old Zachariah say
About families in our day?”
My heart sank like a boat anchor
Since families were to canker
By rancor, and love would perish
Since parents no longer’d cherish
Their inheritance of the Lord,
Which they would run through with the sword.
Years ago mom was perplexed how
This could be. She seemed not so now.
“Why do you seek to eat my flesh?”
“Because your meat is pure and fresh.”
I looked at her bewilderedly,
As cold flesh grabs me hungrily.
I’m trapped by the inhumanly
Who dismember me eagerly.
My ghost looks on curiously,
For I can no longer feel pain.
Am I dreaming? Am I insane?
The undead carry my remains
Hastily back across the plains
Into the city where I grew
Back to a special house I knew.
I watched as they tossed my flesh in
The pot. Someone gnawed on my shin,
But I won’t need that anymore.
Still, some part of me did abhor
My cadaver’s mutilation.
“What has brought this desolation?”
I asked aloud, and the answer
A spirit gave was that, “Cancer
More hideous than ever known
Had ravished us like a cyclone.
Poison reached the water supply,
And everyone began to die.
At least, we thought we’d died at first,
Until we discovered our thirst
For the living’s juices and meat.
The first to die came back to eat
Their spouses, kids, friends, and neighbors,
Making us all join their labors.
We hunt around the country side
Like the jaws of hell gaping wide.
This happened several years ago.”
I was surprised I did not know.
But mom and dad had never told
Me this, nor that their hearts were cold.
That night they ladled out my soup
And devoured it as their goop
Dripped like pus from sores in their bowls.
They fought for the dregs like crazed trolls.
Then, when they had consumed it all
They all went outside and did fall
To the ground. Their bodies melted
Like summer hail that has pelted
Hot southern climes furiously.
I studied this curiously.
Have my assailants passed away?
A sudden breeze seemed to convey
Electricity back to the
House. My parents stood before me
Now in their fleshless, spectral forms.
“It’s good to be rid of those worms,”
My mom smiled as she winked at dad.
“Where are the bodies you just had?”
“They are good to hunt and eat with,
But the spirit’s truly the pith
Of being in the Afterdeath.
Though silent as a statue’s breath,
This cold, spirit form can channel
More power than you can handle.
Our zombie forms are slow and reek,
They are Creole when you know Greek.
They’re not refined and cannot pass
Through walls like spirits to harass
The weaklings that we mortify
To the extent we chondrify
Their bones, and they are easy kills,
Petrified, and covered with chills.
We slay them without sympathy.
The spirit has telepathy,
As well as telekinesis.
It is without agenesis,
With the exception so fleeting
That bodies do all the eating.
They’re necessary to savor
Human flesh in every flavor.
Perhaps these things seem unreal now,
But these truths you can’t disavow.
You’ll learn. It’s like riding a bike,
Albeit that is no thrill like
Seeing terror bathe someone’s eyes
And listening to their wild cries
Curdle like old milk in their throats
As you eat them like tender shoats.
The living are but bred to die.
They know it—look them in the eye,
And their panic makes evident
That to earth they’ve only been sent
As a premonition of what
Will be when living they are not,
To be hunted as coturnix.
A human is but a phoenix,
What greatness comes from its ashes
After our teeth on it gnashes
You’ll have the chance to discover.
May fiendishness be your lover.”
I didn’t know how to reply,
So I let the moments slide by.
Well, it seems that I’m here to stay.
Time together’s good, anyway.
I wanted to surprise them; they
Surprised me instead yesterday.

And There’s a Lady in the Lake

~ Iyan Igma

In the silence of the night,
I hear a baby crying,
And the rain is pelting me
As if it were dying.
The wind is blowing with a roar;
The trees have set to shake.
Fire balls drop in lightning form,
And there’s a lady in the lake.

Her form’s the picture of mystique,
And captivated were my eyes;
And I could no less watch her there
Than a meteor’s fiery demise.
She speaks to me through the wind
And bids my soul to obey.
I leave the safety of my lodge,
And wend myself her way.
Enchantment aptly describes
How she has me transfixed,
And I count my curséd stars,
That it’s me the lady’s picked.
I reach her, and she leans in close
To bestow a wicked kiss.
Plunging her blade into my heart,
I feel only murdered bliss.
The hammering in my ears dies,
And my heart no longer beats.
But steadily she’s kissing me,
Winking as she my dead gaze meets.
Without the utt’rance of a word,
She tells me that I am hers.
By the tone I can tell that I
Mean no more than jewels or furs.
I try to flee, and she smiles
With the smirk of wickedness.
I take a feeble step away,
And I stumble into darkness.

I awake as underground falls
Crash like a weary drake.
I feel bound and gagged like a fish
Swimming for survival’s sake.
Resurfacing at last, I feel
Alive and totally awake.
I’m free of the enchantress now.
But there’s a lady in the lake.

“Pet,” she whispers through the wind,
“Do you not see? Your force is mine.
I can slay you when I want;
I can make you beg and pine.”
I knew the truth of her words
And wondered why she would do this?
She laughed at my despair and said,
“It was just a little kiss.”
But what I lost with that kiss
No mortal should have to bear.
But I’m no more mortal than
The wind e’er blowing her hair.
She sent me forth to conquer all,
My lady’s gallant knight, indeed!
A soulless wretch lab’ring for
Her honor! Her monstrous steed!
Her fear I carried to regions
Where I “died” repeatedly,
But in the instant took back “life”,
For she never would set me free.
Slumbering kings and their dead guards
And battalions arrayed for war,
Would glimpse me for a second,
And then glimpse nothing more.
Their shafts and screams could not affect
Me, though they made me ache,
For they ne’er once affected
The lady in the lake.

How I prayed they could defeat me;
How I welcomed every slice!
But the mem’ry of her lips
Was my soul’s strengthening spice.
The salt I sowed in the ground,
The carnage I left behind,
Were blessings, if others could see
How she poisoned my soul and mind.
I am not my own, and no one
Should feel the harrows on the soul
From hating the one you love,
Who you’d love to make you whole.
Through the desert she egged me on,
And I hoped my thirst to slake.
But in the oasis’s mirage
There was a lady in the lake.

And no matter where she did send
Me, I heard her tones on the wind,
“You can climb a mountain’s glacial crest
Or chase the sun dying in the west,
But you can’t escape, make no mistake,
For I am your lady in the lake.”

“It seems my task is now all through;
There’s none alive but me and you.
I do whatever you wish,
Now may I have another kiss?”
She leaned in, and the wind spake,
“Well done, my simple, soulless snake.
Now we can spend eternity
Together through my sorcery.
None shall ever my reign break.
Now serve your Lady in the lake.”

“What shall I do?” I queried,
Wishing that time would have tarried,
Though I knew the reply.
Her smile was as soothing as lye,
As she handed me her poniard.
“Free your soul. Thrust the blade in hard.”
The evil glowed which did imbue
The blade which was to run me through,
Which once upon a cursed night stole
My humanity and my soul.
It’s funny how I’d sought to die,
But looking in her wicked eye,
Dying made me want to cry.
Her murd’rous blade I plunged in deep
Where my useless heart now did sleep.
I feel the fate she did bequeath
Me as she shows her iv’ry teeth.
It’s funny that now as I die,
I miss her kiss and begin to cry.
She’ll be the last thing I shall see,
Caressing my face laughingly.
The lips I slaughtered nations for
Shall not caress mine anymore.
My knees and vision start to shake;
She smiles, the lady in the lake.

I wake up like a cotton gin,
And a storm is blowing in.
I’m at my lodge, safe within.
What a fright that must have been.
The dream gave me cold, clammy skin.
The wind brings me a familiar laugh
That rends my soulless form in half.
Memories cause my hands to shake,
And there’s a lady in the lake.

Where Lies?

~ Iyan Igma

The call cleared the sleep from my eyes
Like a plague of Egyptian flies.
I donned the first clothes I could find,
Listening to my morbid mind.
So I go down the broken street,
With no eager haste in my feet
And a heart that’s feeling wary,
To the curséd cemetery
Where I no longer go to mourn
The rotting wife from me torn
By death’s cold and unyielding hand,
Which destroys all that one has planned.
And as I reach the iron gate,
Whose cherub has a rusted pate,
My mocking mind says, “You’re too late
To stop the thieves who desecrate.”
Granite leans, and angels sag;
My apprehensive feet I drag
To the corner where lies a hole
And where recently lay a soul—
Lifeless, in supine position,
Waiting in decomposition.
How could this stench not have debunked
The desire to stir the defunct?
Carrion circle in the air,
And, lo, I see some strands of hair
Strewn in the grass the dew did wet.
Is this the hair I once did pet?
Ants bustle off with gobs of flesh.
Was this the skin I did caress?
But peering into the abyss
That seemed her company to miss,
Only darkness could I there find,
As would her eyes by death now blind.
I pick up a casket splinter—
Part of the one she did enter?—
And I wonder how this could be.
What could provoke such barbary?
Where lies the corpse that I’ve interred
Where worms and maggots oft have fared?
What hideous fiend would disturb
The sanctity of this suburb
Where souls reside far from the work
And toils the living’d love to shirk,
Except it be not by this end,
The path to which never does wend,
But goes straightly and steeply down
Some six long feet beneath the ground,
Where the living, gasping for air,
Would scarcely seem to have a prayer
Of managing a prison break
If buried alive by mistake?
Oh, how I did want to vomit
With the fury of a comet!
The police knew not who were the blokes;
The only witnesses were oaks.
Since there was naught that I could do,
To my home I speedily flew,
Thinking that there I could bathe,
While my mind spun ’round like a lathe.
And in my haste I never saw
The rotten meat that worms did gnaw
Scattered like jetsam on the way.
My mind was dark; the skies were gray.
The grimy knob I ne’er noted,
Thinking of the dead and bloated,
Until a pungent odor rose
Up to meet my pitiful nose.
Egad! Surely this could not be.
My mind is playing tricks on me.
But dirty footprints marked the path
Through the kitchen and past the bath.
Toward my bedroom the prints head,
And there lying upon my bed
Was a vision that did me chill,
For ’twas my bride that time did kill.
Surely she could not be alive,
For my lonely years have been five.
Yet lying there in her own goo
While aqueous humour seeped through,
She fixed me with a steely stare
That seemed to take away my air.
Though missing several of her locks,
She still retained her vocal box,
For I would swear I heard her say,
“My darling, why did you betray?
What is this thing that you have done
To anger your long-sleeping one?”
My mind must have started to fray.
Astonished, I managed to say,
“I know not, for I did cherish
You e’er until you did perish.”
She rose up like an addled swan,
A ghastly thing to look upon.
Her ragged approach did me stun;
I was too petrified to run.
I watched with incredulity
As she drew near ominously.
“Ah, now you attempt to be brave
When you are but a yellow knave.
There is nothing that can you save
From the misery of my grave.
Though you were true to me in life,
Dying makes me no less your wife.
E’en though you thought I’d never see,
My spirit watched your adult’ry.
And though you’d say ’twas just a kiss,
Your face was painted with sheer bliss.
If I cannot have you, should she?
I will never let you go free.”
Her languid advance did mock
The helpless state of my shock.
“With jealousy fueling my rage,
I entered my decaying cage.
Furious, from the ground I burst
To fulfill the plan I’d rehearsed.”
She reached the spot where I did stand,
Placing on me a gory hand.
There was no warmth left in her touch,
But nothing could have burnt as much.
Ne’er releasing me from her stare,
Her raspings once more split the air.
“Remember when youth crowned my head?
‘I’ll love you forever’, you said.
You vowed that death could never us part,
And sealed it carving out a heart
And our initials on a tree,
Which symbolized your love for me.
For this tree, like our love, should grow
Enduring even winter’s snow,
The cold of which would be like death:
Untimely, smothering my breath.”
And then she tried to kiss me where
Only mortal lips should e’er dare.
She oped her mouth and worms fell out;
My neighbors never heard my shout