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· 818 poems by Mario William Vitale
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 Title   [ Click any title below to view poem ]Category Date
 Gothic Halloween Scare Dark Poetry 10/30/2017
 After The Rain Love 10/30/2017
 Sex And Black Velvet Cake Mature Audience 10/29/2017
 One Hand To Hold A Heart Will Mend Love 10/27/2017
 The Smile Love 10/27/2017
 The Heat Of The Moment Love 10/27/2017
 Dragged Through The Mud Love 10/26/2017
 Mind is Playing Tricks On Me Love 10/26/2017
 Breathe Deep Love 10/25/2017
 I Look To You Love 10/24/2017
 Love You For My Life Love 10/23/2017
 Corporate Greed With Vain Societal  Dark Poetry 10/22/2017
 Dream World Part One Fantasy Poems 10/20/2017
 The Death Of Zoe March Mature Audience 10/19/2017
 Until My Final Breath Love 10/18/2017
 Mystical Moon Beams Insight 10/16/2017
 The Midnight Train Love 10/12/2017
 Honey Bee Love 10/12/2017
 Charles Manson Dark Poetry 10/9/2017
 For What it's Worth Love 10/9/2017
 Xanadu Fantasy Poems 10/9/2017
 Respect Love 10/9/2017
 Lily Fantasy Poems 10/9/2017
 Creativity In Writing Love 10/9/2017
 A Reason To Be Love 10/8/2017
 Velvet Underground Fantasy Poems 10/6/2017
 Blue Eyes Crying in The Wind Love 10/6/2017
 A Flight Of The Albatross Love 10/5/2017
 Help Me Understand Love 10/5/2017
 Creativity was in his genes Tupac exhibi Love 10/4/2017
Pages:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

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Gothic Halloween Scare

An unkempt man approached me one dark evening
'In pursuit', he said, 'of a favour'
'A drink' he explained, but I was unsure of his meaning
When he specified it should be of a refined yet peculiar flavour
Then as he percieved I was not repelled, he moved nearer to enhance his rapport
Until in the light of a streetlamp I could see the bottle he held
And I wondered what fate had in store

It was clear now he was dressed in strange clothing
Of a style that one rarely meets
Except for perhaps if roving, in a town of Dickensian streets
I failed not to judge as I leaned closer to hear just what he might suggest
I thought 'how gracious of me to humour this poseur
In his pale make-up, black bowler and velvet overvest'

On the bottle he held his black fingernails drummed
They were varnished as per his morbid fashion
And in his throat the tune he hummed
Spoke of past revels and passion
Until at last had mustered his confidence and a pleasing tone
In which he proceeded to intimate his desire
That alas, he possessed no blood he could call his own, so therefore he was forced to enquire
As to the possibility of a small donation, it would not take much time just a tick
The procedure requiring just two things worthy of mention
Those being a vein and a slit

Of course I recoiled aghast, and vainly attempted to call
As I found I could not make a sound
Then it was only when my head lolled down that I saw
His feet hovering an inch from the ground
I was unable to engage any muscles as a fingernail pierced my left wrist
Or when he filled his bottle with a pint of my best red corpuscles
Then pocketed it with a hiss

He said he could see why he might be reviled
For the comtempt he had treated me with
Then he parted his lips and smiled
To allude to the fiendish alternative
It was a smile of rapacious appearance, that made my heart shiver and shudder
For as anyone could tell from even that quick glance
His smile was a smile like no other

Then with a doff a wink and a smirk
He smoothly departed our puddle of light
And melting into the inky black murk
He receded into the night
Now whenever I am about after dark
I determine to not be so too late
And ever since that experience left it's cruel mark
I portage garlic cloves, holy water and a stake

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