Erik von Koln

Asleep, truly asleep, more than you think

In my coffin

I slept for a decade’s under the earth

That I lay in

An unclear image came into my mind

So pale and thin

It seemed to sparkle when light rays hit it

Fabled pixie

His unkempt hair and fragile composure;

Worse than Louis

And there he was surrounded by tall green things

Tall green leaved tree

 

Awakened I could never sleep again

I could hear of ‘Twilight’

On the very busy streets above me

And on TV at night.

I wanted to return and live above

Under each neon light

So I pushed my way to the earth surface

each light shined very bright.

I looked around for my first living prey

Who fought with all his might.

 

After this first bite, I, pale, clothed myself

In all the punk-rock glory like last time

That I had walked the earth with the mortals

When I tasted from mortals; just like wine.

And I blended, I blended well with them

My ever so thoughtless, sexy, sweet vine.

After my strength had come back to me

I would shuffle through the books and the grime

So that I could find this sparkly vampire

Or a disgusting filthy mortal mime.

 

After feeding and dressing in all black

I searched for that one called Edward Cullen

He who plagued my mind within my sweet dreams

Made them nightmares within my dark coffin.

He would pay for destroying our image,

I would plunge him into darkness again

There he would feel eons of his disgrace,

and I would do this deed with a huge grin.

Nailed in that coffin deep under the earth,

which will make him brittle and very thin.

 

I could not find that pathetic vampire,

Not in America, not in England

Not in Germany, not in Austria

Not in Italy and not in Poland.

That pathetic wretched beast is hiding,

Hiding from my rending ravenous hand.

I have to swear that this is, I’ll admit,

Harder than I had ever planned…

 

I read the literature by Meyer

And I nearly vomited.

Her diction, her story, it made me sick

I couldn’t believe this book was printed

Thumbing through those pages, I had realized.

There was no vampire she recited.

He didn’t have a life in this whole world

Only here on these pages, repeated.

 

She was an atrocious writer,

And a writer, who I read earlier

Agreed with the way that I felt

Just like her book, she must forever wilt

I must drag her into hell

Drag her into the deep, freezing eighth belt

 

So the pursuit began

And I searched and searched until I had found her

I saw her writing there

And knew that I must kill that rabid cur.

 

I beat the door,

She answered and let me inside

“Come on inside”

And my mal-grin opens so very wide.

 

She knew

More about us than she ever wanted

Reviews

[Lorraine]

I'm not sure if all the grudge embedded in here reflects exactly what you feel or you were just playing with thoughts. Anyways, it's a very creepy poem but told in an almost satirical way. It was just funny how Edward Cullen suddenly entered the scene from nowhere. Still, your poem has got quite the acid in it, and has achieved the tone it seems to be aiming for. Nice one.

Keep Writing. ^___^