The wavy sky is choked with weepy colors of the twilight…
The garden appears ahead on the curvy filthy hill.
A fence, sponged and nippy,
Enshrouds it in sepulchral, perky motions.
On the five corners the torments of Eros are depicted:
The succubus, the queen, the goddess, the muse and the nun.
Upon entering, a livid owl gazes with its big, rusty, bronze eyeballs
On the timorous, mortified people walking by
As if medusa’s snake themselves wanted to carve new statues
To gloom into the chill of the night.
A chorus of crows somber tunes the daily obituary,
While the raven calls the souls for the last tour they will ever do
And widows and priests jangle a slaughtered lullaby.
Slushy alleyways flood the space
Turning faith into a labyrinth with wings of despair
And the soon never to be forgotten, bewitched lair
Wore the most rapturous mask and blissful face.
Yellow fleshless grass and bony thorns grotesquely twist
On broken stones and shattered windows:
Invitation to an unnatural rest in peace place.
Rare trees, shallow and knotty, moan to fill the emptiness with blood and mist;
Dwellings of white rock are housing stiffs forever and a day.
Rotten, kissed by worms, queasy, ivory skeletons waltz;
With their addictive taint, graphite ghosts the cremated air blitz;
Noxious flowers mysteriously desiccate;
Candles repent and commit suicide by melting.
Lighthearted when the gates open with a sharp hissing
I take my leave from the place of ill-fate,
As undead start to grill under the moons presence in the yard…
I take my leave from the impish state:
The September Graveyard.
Awakened by the fresh taint of autumn’s rusty air
I go beyond time’s rules into a new beginning.
Who am I? What am I? Where am I?
A quill… an alien… nowhere…
A relaxing mist pours thru my memory…
A tender and wild nothing that floods the mind…
Wife… does not exist on the memory lane,
Obliterated by blind neurons… but she… Oh, she…
The little toy mistress shines bright within decadent dawn.
Shackles of forgetfulness take me prisoner. Insane!
Mask, laces, whips, harnesses, corsets, ropes,
Dungeons, castles, caves, cages, heaven, hell,
One and all in one blink appear,
All but one in meteoric snaps vanishes.
Massacred past tells of groovy future.
And the present is so primal and blasphemous:
A fiend in ivory bodysuit and two lascivious creatures
In white, ethereal skirts and blouses and black laced stockings and garters.
They nurture me every day; look after what they call departed memories
That left me as the skin leaves the snake.
To Davy Jones’s locker with the lot I say!
Embracing a weeping ghost like I knew her in forever,
I submerge her in my dreams like the flower I never dared to tame,
A meteor that endlessly falls as it travels towards the unknown doom.
A bottle of blazed absinth and one with icy chilly mint liquor
Stand on the sides of my bed as guardians.
I rise them up and I reunite with other worlds…
Drifting into a celestial abyss
Made of barren muses and nymphs… Ultimate bliss!
I am never coming home!
The hanging man
Beneath the macramé sunny skies, the mystic tree smiles
In death’s grin of enticing laces birthed of zephyr and gods.
Today he will be carved into the gallows skeleton,
A puppet master to play with tainted quills instead of gibbets.
Rusty leaves weep in a threnody sour for the ears…
Blessed requiem with cannibal worms written rhythm.
After the satin nooses zealously decrepit the deed beyond time
A forgotten muse performs an exotic taxidermy from the last breath of a poet.
Vlad Teodor Petcu is an apprentice of the tainted quill born and raised in Bucharest, Romania. He debuted all time with poetry in 2014 and has since written both fiction and non-fiction appearing in magazines and anthologies. His first Romanian poetry book – Tenebre Lirice, has just been published in March 2017 at Astralis Publishing House in Bucharest. His works can be mostly seen in Amurg Sentimental, Uscând o Lacrimă, Calliope Magazine, eFiction India, and The Reverie Journal or on his personal blog called Visele unui insomniac.