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The Romance Of Death

The Romance Of Death
by Charles E S Fairey 


Laudanum fumes with Coleridge 
Our tomes are dark sacrilege, 
Poe and the drinking den Ravens 
Sat amongst the tombs graven cravens, 
Milton and our Paradise Lost 
The soul sold for oblivion’s cost, 
Shelley and her reanimated dead 
Upon debauched Dorian we’ve fed, 
The Starry Night of swirly minded Gogh’s 
Wormwooded absinth overflows, 
Whether paper and inks or canvas and paints 
Us dark Romantics are no virtuous saints, 
Please Pass the mind altering intoxicants 
Love The Muse of mighty hierophants, 
Mephistopheles and the serpent tangents 
Salivated orgies and vain establishments, 
The ghosts of what we were haunts 
But our hearts crave twisted jaunts, 
For our dark souls no matter the true cost 
Inspired and wickedly gifted our souls lost, 
Remembered by all contracted to repeat our masterpiece 
For Dark Wonders never fail and never really cease, 
To grab the gothic heart of human minds 
For the Romance of Death truly shines! 

Famous Jack and his legionary rippers grow 
Whitechapel’s ghosts gin and nightly ladies glow, 
Modern Burton and his All Hallows every Christ mass 
Dark Shadows Depp and his allure to every lass, 
Like Stoker and hypnotising Vampire 
We all love our heartfelt dark desire, 
Edvard Munch and his expressing Scream 
But have you felt the ghost’s caressing dream? 
Awoken watered with sweetly sweat? 
Even though the shadows juices let? 
The mad and the bad Marquis de Sade 
Doesn’t Lord Byron deal your every card, 
No matter the artist be Mephistopheles Bard 
The reflection doesn’t shine in the mirror’s shard, 
Only the darkness stares back to wishful eye 
For the Romance of Death desires never die. 

The Coming Doom of Edward Bulwer-Lytton 
The fascination of dark future’s hidden yet written, 
The Rosicrucian Shelley’s alchemical obsession 
Now take the bloodied waters of Geneva’s poison, 
The madness of Hanoverian zoo like asylums 
The Lords, the Ladies and the Maid’s delusions, 
The Theatre of the Blood lusting fiend 
If Polidori’s lust had been crowned queen, 
Penny Dreadful’s serial fantastic celebrities 
The beauty of the Gothic Muse and Mephistopheles, 
Reynolds’ soulless Faust and Necromancer 
His howling Were-wolf and Wagner, 
Hammer Horror emblazoned upon the moving screen 
Cushing, Lee and Price Hollywood Dreams, 
Karloff, Lugosi, Kinski, Rathbone and Lorre 
The fascination of Armageddon and zombie, 
Sydow, Nicholson, Hopkins, Pleasance and Chaney 
The Business of sold out seats is so so Uncanny, 
The Seventh Seal and Ingmar Bergman 
The Chess pieces and Master sell sell them, 
The lure of the debauched self and money 
Everyone wants a belly of milk and honey! 
The Bronte’s and lonesome lover Eyre 
Lovesick Heathcliff Cathy’s only care, 
Upon the bleak Moors the Baskerville Hound 
And Signal-Man and Iron thudding wheels round, 
Holmes violin strumming opiate fiend of Doyle 
Dicken’s Twist and Victorian Revolutions toil, 
The Dark Satanic Mills of the Big Smoke’s smog 
Mephistopheles clocks and moving work cogs, 
Stevenson’s Doctor Jekyll and gruesome Hyde 
The grave robbers and unknowing autopsy brides, 
The Turning of the torturing ghostly Screw 
The Operatic Phantom his inner beauty true, 
The eye of the beholder truly hideous 
The heart and Romance of Death delirious! 
Hitchcock and the brooding resting murder 
Psycho and Birds you’ll only scream louder, 
King, Herbert, Carpenter, Englund and Maginn 
Even the lambs and marbly baa Sheep are Sin, 
Polanski and his Johnny Devil and Nine Gates 
Queen of the Damned and Cult Goth salivates, 
The Ring and its recorded raising from the Well 
The Romance of Death certainly sells sells, 
Whether now, then, here or ever 
Our dark desires with us forever, 
Our love of the masters of Horror 
For a Penny Dreadful soul ta’ borra’, 
The corridors of coffins within the beauty laced 
The Muse the Mephistopheles always embraced, 
The gruesome and hideous with open eyes faced 
The salivating kiss the Devil’s pulsating taste, 
The heart beating beneath the oaken boards 
Oh what deviant wonder dark hearts adored, 
The Lust of Life yet Death and Devil calls 
The orgy of hells not God’s heavenly halls, 
We are allured by the Dark and Gothic 
Our abodes of the dead haunting and terrific, 
So Come and ‘Dance with the Dead’ “God Bless yer!” 
For you don’t want your Romance with Death to Fester!


Death - The Romantic


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