The Dead of Night – A Poem

The Dead of Night
By
Scott L Vannatter
October 18, 2012

The line was drawn suffice it to say
The bitter truth was “War is Today!”
The sides were drawn as clear as a bell
It was earth on one side and the other was hell

Demons flew, skittered, and clawed
They all were malformed, broken, and flawed
Earth was ripe; the humans all fought
Amongst themselves, winning was naught

In this weakened state, they could be picked and killed
The bellies of the demons easily filled
Horrific and terrible their countenance stood
And showed it they did, not one used a hood

Soldiers knew they were fighting for more than their nation
If they lost this great battle, out went their salvation
Demons fought without bombs, no guns, or knives
They took and they took, not counting the lives

Grenades went off soundly the gunshots rang out
The blood mostly green from the demons did spout
Human blood red gushed forth like a fountain
And bodies were piled like mountain on mountain

Planes in the air met winged bats and vultures
Seems demons came forth from most all the cultures
Machine guns spit and huge bombs dropped forth
But more and more nightmares came from south and from north

Bits of the creatures splattered the walls
And more of their bodies littered the halls
But for every hideous beast that was slain
A human was slaughtered, more of the same

The battles dragged on for days upon weeks
We sacrificed much to kill all the freaks
Our numbers grew less, as they seemed to be more
When a dozen attacked, hundreds flowed from the floor

Our races outnumbered, we hadn’t a chance
The creatures they knew this and fought with a dance
Prayers were sent skyward and fervently given
But the pace of the battles increased and were driven

By malicious intent, they ripped out the eyes
And ate them at leisure, like we would some pies
They gnawed at our bones once torn from our frame
They didn’t mind dying; they saw in it a game

One mountain we took and called it “Old Glory”
It was written about in a good, solid story
But for the one that we took, several more that were lost
And the lives spent on “Old Glory”, were too high of a cost

Blood spewed from the mouths as they ate out our hearts
They sucked and they licked the cut-away parts
From the corners of mouths dripped gore like honey
The darkness was growing it was much less than sunny

Night overtook and daylight was taken
Our lives were for naught our souls seemed forsaken
The hell spawn and soulless screeched out in dark prose
They knew we were losing and their intensity rose

They pushed us all backwards through swamp and through stones
We found ourselves stepping on our dead’s very own bones
They would crack and then snap as our soldiers retreated
The oozing black monsters knew we were defeated

It was over we knew it; the demons were winning
Too many had died; our numbers were thinning
The earth, blackened, was dying; the demons near done
Now they would enslave all the living and start their wicked old fun

The ground began shaking; the noise was most fearful
Women and children became very tearful
Then our eyes had to look twice as they grew round as a cup
Because all our dying and dead had stood up!

It seems they didn’t think that fighting once was sufficient
They stood up as soldiers and much more efficient
They grabbed sticks and rocks and used cracked bottles and lumber
To strike at the beasts, to kill them in number

The dead fought with living to take on the evil, vile crowds
And it renewed all our soldiers who surged forward in clouds
They attacked with new vigor knowing they surely could win
Because if they died they would rise up again

The screaming and agony switched from our side
As with the undead helping it was turning the tide
The demonic horde fell flapping and ripping and dying
From a certain held victory they now were all crying

And pounding and shredding the dead and the living
Were striking the heart of the vile without giving
An inch of surrender, no mercy was shown
Back into hell was the horrendous horde thrown

Once it was finished, it had taken a year
The dead bones were restful; they dropped with no cheer
But the shouts from the living resounded for days
For when the war ended, the sun shone its rays

The dead were now done; they were needed no more
So we buried them all; and let our praises all soar
We thought about dying and how after even the fall
God used them to help us; He did hear our call

I wrote this and sent it to my publishers.  The editor was pleased with it, but chose, instead, to publish my story “Tiger, Demon Burning Bright”.  That made me very happy.  I hope you enjoyed this dark poem as much as I loved writing it.

Namaste,

Scott

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Comments

  • Shakti Ghosal  On January 27, 2013 at 2:40 am

    A very dark and grim world you have painted with your words. What could be the genesis of a poem like this? Loved the word play though.

    Shakti

    Like

    • kindredspirit23  On January 27, 2013 at 10:38 am

      The genesis is that for over 45 years I have watched and read horror movies, books, and magazines. I, generally, like the ones that end fairly well, but it makes me feel wonderful to find out what I have written makes someone else tingle, squirm, or in some other way “enjoy” the story.
      Personally, I am not like that. I love kittens, “The Little Mermaid, and even reading some romance books.

      Like

  • deanabo  On January 26, 2013 at 3:44 pm

    Terrific words!

    Like

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