Lover of the Grotesque

A collection of curiosities

Of relics best forgotten

Musty odors hanging eternally

In moth-eaten crushed velvet drapes

That scatter shards of broken moonlight

Across a crowded den of death and decay

A child-sized coffin

Sitting closed in the center

Of a strange gathering of

Crooked legged chairs

Trunks of ugly treasures

Too numerous to display

Stacked in corners

 

In a place of honor on the mantle

Sits the glued-together remnants

Of a mermaid morbidly constructed

From fish and simian skeleton

Beside it lies a reliquary of Rasputin’s blood

Along with spirit photographs

And the Devil’s Bible

Beautiful weapons of war

Upon blood-red plaster walls

 

Dancing among these relics of horror

Is the lover of the grotesque.

 

Reviews

[Angelic Darkness]

I love this dark, creepy poem...reminds me of roaming around in
some abandoned house, soaking up memories.