Almost Halloween

My roomie loves the Halloween movies. He's obsessed with Michael Myers and Laurie Strode. He was so pissed off when he learned about the new Halloween movie, until I told him...a minute ago that Rob Zombie is tied to direct the flick. Now he's okay with it. Heh.

Anyway, the History Channel is doing a bunch of documentaries on Halloween, Vampires and such. I love documentaries. The ones I watch usually do a good job of giving more than one side to a story. A recent one on Secret Societies was rather creepy. One guest claimed that the whole world economy is run by one group who strategically place people in power around the globe. Kind of frightening if you think about it, but interesting nonetheless.

This recent doc on the history of Halloween got me thinking. When Europe started burning "witches" at the stake, who followed? America...well we hung them for the most part instead of torching them. America was a bunch of hypocrites back then and sadly we're still like that today. Didn't this country get founded for the specific reason of free religion? Well, I guess those people who were "witches" had no religion or something so they were fair game. It saddens me. Hasn't enough blood been spilt for the sake of religion? We still shun and hate people based on their religion in this country. We still fight and pay for wars around the world that have religious undertones. I wonder if it will ever end.


Ah well, here's a vampire poem I wrote for one of my classes earlier this year. The professor seemed to like it.

Enjoy!

Vampire

He watched from afar, pale flesh covered in silk
caught in the shadows of the frigid night.
Oh, she walked with the grace of noble blood,
her cloak fluttering behind, haunting him,
hiding the curves of her slender from.
“Come to me,” said a voice on the wind, softly,
and slowly, like a siren’s seductive call.

He stalked the maiden, his eyes never roaming,
from the nape which he desired. She never turned,
keeping to her meandering strides. When he
drew closer, her pulse raced beneath her skin,
a torturous invitation of pleasure and pain.
“Come to me.” Yes, this beauty was luring him,
daring him, to leave the safety of the night.

He approached from behind, the lamplights
flickering flame bathing the stone walk,
ebbed to a glowing wick ember. She paused,
her breath caught in her throat and tightened,
preparing for what she secretly wished.
“Take me,” her whispering voice commanded,
as she cast away the locks from her shoulder.

He gripped her body and drew her close,
catching the scent of rose on her skin.
His tongue prepared the flesh for his mark,
and she bent to his will, quivering soundlessly,
as she met his eyes and exposed her intent.
“Make me,” she begged with such perversity,
he shuddered once then claimed his prize.