Dark Poetry
                     Lovely Terror
                                             By Clara Knepper


A masochistic angel and a beast with lofty dreams,
lover's thighs like candlelight and darkness in between...
It started in her soul (to the incubus' delight)
and crept into her flesh, sick desire for his night.
It started in his flesh and crept into his head
and before he knew it, he'd crept into her bed.
She didn't know to question, nor how not to trust
the flames that licked inside her, burning bright with lust.
His was not restraint, nor denial of a sin--
and tempting as forbidden, she was a soul to win--
So brushing back the lace of her innocence and rest
his fangs met the throat that screamed at his request.
Elixir of depravity, chalice filled with blood,
She thrashed in his hands and bathed him in her flood.
Eyes bright with conquering he reveled in his play
destroying her with ecstasy, all in a devil's day.
So every time an angel screams
a devil's nailing down her wings
and though she'll plead and cry sweet tears
her body succumbs to the pleasure she fears.
Angels beware the dark of your sleep--
an incubus waits and your soul he will keep.
                     Really Bad Movie
                                             By Mike Berger

The "Revenge of the Zombies" was playing
at the dollar theater. It had a formula plot
where the zombies pick off the good guys
one by one. Everyone dies except the heinous
zombie.

Before the hero and his comely costar meet
their demise; they share a last lingering kiss.
Then this hideous zombie cuts them both to
ribbons and blood splashes everywhere. The
creature has triumphed and he wears a
sadistic grin.---THE END.

As the lights came up, I saw a hideous zombie
sitting next to me. It looked me straight in the
eyes. I never realized that zombies could smile;
this necrotic creature wore a broad grin. It
growled out, "Don't you love stories with a
happy ending?"
Juan Manuel Perez Haikus


Haiku No. 36

when I was alive
bullets whizzing by scared me
but not anymore


Haiku No. 43

cut down in their prime
the ghosts of cheerleaders past
showing school spirit


Haiku No. 47

she wore my pale hands
like a beautiful necklace
around her small neck  


Haiku No. 53

she promised her heart
and it really tastes good too
love, like a zombie


Haiku No. 54

up on the roof top
for zombie target practice
spent beer, shot gun shells
                     Eye of the Beholder
                                                     By Mike Berger

The black night was a steel veil;
exotic rhythms danced through
the dark alley. Behind a massive,
foreboding door, a Spanish melody
spilled forth.

Creaking loudly as it opened, the
door yielded to a murky room.
Silhouettes of bodies seem to hang
in the dark. Light from a small stage
revealed a dozen hideous creatures.

A necrotic creature was playing the
guitar. Loose flesh hung from his
bony body, but that thing could play.
Joined by a woman, the apotheosis
of ugly, her skeletal fingers worked
castanets. Slowly her feet began to
dance; her body remained motionless.
The music became louder and faster,
and her hands and feet became a blur.

When the dance was over, her audience
called for more. She caught my eye and
made her way through adoring fans. She
came straight to me. She was as brash
as her dance as she hit on me. The smell
of rotting flesh turned my stomach. It stuck
in my throat; I couldn't speak. I held the
my hand showing her my wedding ring.
She shrugged her shoulders and walked
away.

The grotesque creature standing next to me
was shaking it's head. In a gravelly voice, that
hideous beast spoke “I’ll never understand
women. Why would beautiful thing like
her be attracted to you?" He added,
"You are the ugliest thing I have ever
seen."
Poetry by Mike Berger, Clara Knepper and Juan
Manuel Perez
To read other short stories,
click one of the titles below.
                             ZPA
                                             By Mike Berger

The outrage was immediate and intense.
There were riots in the streets.
Lower courts had ruled that zombies
had no civil rights. They had rights when
they were alive, but those rights were lost
when they died.

The case was eventually argued before
the Supreme Court. Ten thousand walking
dead marched on Washington. Law clerks
burned gallons of midnight oil researching
zombies and the law. There were no
precedents to rely on.

It took several months for the court to
decide. The majority ruled that zombies
had equal protection under the law. The
Constitution made no provisions for the
rights of an individual to cease when
they died.

The zombies celebrated their triumph.
The government added a new bureau,
the Zombie Protection Agency (ZPA).
Politics being what it is, there isn't a
single zombie on the agency's staff.
For poetry by John
Weinkauf and Nathan
Rowark,
click here

For poetry by Mike
Berger, Clara Knepper
and Juan Manuel Perez,
click here

For poetry by John Grey
and A.J. Huffman,
click
here