Opus Bathory

                                                                                                     
"Oh,essence of life
how you redden my eyes"...

She thought her crimes will bring her immortality
but death slowly conceiled in her sacrifices,
Her vampiric lust entwined with pride
brought her torment and demise....

As one more breath was more important than gold,
the wantons fell-as damsels tell-
down on their knees,
crying possesed by the fear of death's sharp cold,
spilling tears that spaterre'd the floor
and hath hungered the moon
that osculated their ckeecks...

And death was summoned
'twixt the destroyed lips
of a dying bitch
as the shadow of the countess
passed through the shadow of the birch..
with a pair of scissors-
it seemed that her madness was endless...

With flammifer eyes she seeketh
for the impious abigail
as a cairn
was prepared for what she hath trieth
The winds seemed a portent
of her impeding doom,
but driveth by wrath and hate
her flesh was soon to be burnt.

"I prithee,God,save me!!!"
whispere'd th' sweet-breasted girl
as the woods hurled
pudh shadows and shapes into her eyes...
She praied but just like yore
when her mother died
what happen'd was naught

The midnight climaxeth
with wolf-roars.."Help-me!"
yell'd the girl
like the wolves could harken
her screams and ease her burthen..
but  the wolves were long-long gone...

Tears hath cut the rose-scent cheek
Sweat invaded the milky neck
and the torn brassiere..
and desperation grown deep...

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The storm agin the filthy window
raked sable  glass
and the face of the widow
appeareth like a sever'd
canvas enrobed into a shadow..

But 'neath the storm
it befell that in the woods
where young-ladies sprung ,
invoked by retribution spells
ariseth from their cells from hell..
anon to scourge the countess's flesh

The fire burnt higher in the chimney
as portal to the underworld
and the room,devastated
by her wrath-laid in blight
where lights and shadows
on the bloody floor hath trothplight.

But her mind flew in the spinney
where the young wanton still lived
agin her will...
and a raven filleth the vacant place
in a shadow and succumbed to her will.
Over the wintery ghyll the
storm of snow grown colder and ill..

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"Forlorn.Forlorn..."
whispered the girl-
as life bade farewell-
and yore her mind hath go..

She was a little girl-
but a woman now who was
chased ceaseless by death...
Snowflakes fell as the
chime from the bellfry slowly dieth
and the midnight was set..
                                                                                                 ****
The moon like a lustre
without consent
caged under it's pernicious rays
the bitches's souls as they were sent slowly...
 to hell...
Thenceforth the confines
'twixt worlds becometh the
nethermost depth...
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