Ethereal Moments The Poetry of Donavon Scott Vinson
Festival of Blood
Her angelic blue-green eyes hide a dark secret.
In her long blood red nails it can be seen.
It's there in her long, wispy raven hair.
It lies upon her blood red lips,
and is in her devilish smile.
You can hear it in her soft, sensual voice,
if only you'll listen.
The proof is there...look you can see it:
When the moon rises full and bright
casting eerie shadows in the night.
Low growls fill the night, and weird things
scurry about in the darkness of the forest.
Upon the midnight hour you can hear it:
The low, husky, incessant chanting
of the circle fills the dark night.
Flesh crawls and blood curdles:
Wild screams fill the chilly, mist filled air.
Loud howling erupts from the dark erasing serenity.
Blood is drained, a silver chalice is filled,
and an evil toast is saluted by the dark circle.
Black robed minions of the Evil One place hands
upon the cold, bloody stones of the alter.
A virgin makes her desperate pleas:
Her white gauzy robe is parted revealing perfect breasts.
But sex isn't the intent of this dark night.
In the smoky candle light a long curved blade
is raised high into the frosty air.
A blood chilling scream is heard:
Dark pools begin to form upon the cold floor.
Death comes slowly until a last
erratic sigh escapes frozen lips.
The triumphant chanting begins again:
Victory over life has been won.
Dark malevolent eyes gleam in the dark.
Blood covered lips break out into an evil smile.
The master's wishes have been fulfilled.
At last the time of rejoicing is theirs.
Wild dancing breaks out in the silence
before the gleaming bloody alter.
The blood red morning sun begins to rise,
putting a glorious end to the festivities
of the ceremonial slaying of the virgin.
All is well for the Master is satiated.
Bringing another Halloween night in a small
Transylvania town to it's bloody conclusion.
Donavon Scott Vinson
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