Rise, Ye Dead!
When the dead return, so even Shakespeare should do...
Thrice the graveyard’s bell hath knell’d,
Thrice the corpse from earth rebell’d,
Bones do rattle, coffins quake,
Sleepers in the ground awake!
.
Rise, ye dead! Rise and swoon!
’Neath the cursed, blood-red moon!
.
Fog creeps low on tomb and stone,
Rats make feast where hearts were sown,
Flesh unbound and spirits wail,
From the pit comes death’s exhale!
.
Rise, ye dead! Rise and swoon!
’Neath the cursed, blood-red moon!
.
Who knocks upon the churchyard gate?
’Tis hunger come, and fear too late!
Whose hand crawls up from muck and mire?
’Tis death reborn with black desire!
.
Maggot choir and crow-winged priest,
Crown the grave with ghoul and beast,
Saints do hide, and angels weep,
While rotting kings their vigil keep!
.
Rise, ye dead! Rise and swoon!
’Neath the cursed, blood-red moon!
.
Blood doth boil and marrow hum,
Hell hath loosed, and night hath come.
Zombies march in pale delight —
Long live the damned, on Hallow’s night!
***
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About the Creator
Christian Bass
An author, who writes tales of human encounters with nature and wildlife. I dive into the depths of the human psyche, offering an insights into our connection with the world around us, inviting us on a journeys.
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