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The Black Book A Collection Of Poems



by Rik Hunik

copyright 2016 by Rik Hunik

16,550 words

Shakespir Edition, License Notes

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A brief introduction:

Way back in the early 1980’s, before I managed to write any worthwhile stories, while I was still heavily influenced by H.P. Lovecraft, I wrote poetry. Looking back at it a few decades later I find most of it pretty damned good, though I have less in common with the poet than I thought I would, considering he’s me, or I’m him. Some of those poems weren’t good enough to include in this book, and there is a chapter at the end for poems that barely made the cut.


[* Chapter One: Fantasy& Horror *]

Intro: Considering that fantasy and horror are my favourite genres for poetry this chapter might seem rather short, but the sonnets in the next chapter, and the longer poems that make up the later chapters, are all fantasy and horror, too.


Vampire Kiss

In the moonlight

Two drops of blood

Glisten on her neck

Like black pearls

On white satin.


On Full Moon Night

The moon is full,

I hear its call,

It reaches through

The void to me.

Upon my face

The moonbeams fall,

I feel them work

Their spell on me.


I know I have

The werewolf curse,

I come alive

On full moon night.

I feel it then,

I can’t reverse

This urge to kill,

It feels so right.


The change is done,

I’m on the prowl,

In search of prey

I stalk the street.

I lick my lips,

I snarl and growl,

I lust for blood,

For fresh red meat.


The moon is bright,

My nose is keen,

And I can smell

Some tasty game.

There she is, slim

But not too lean.

My passion burns

In me like flame.


I move but make

No sound to warn

Her as I strike

And when I pause

Her slender throat’s

So freshly torn

It pulses yet

Between my jaws.


I let my kill

Fall at my feet,

I stand there bathed

In silver light,

The taste of her

Young blood so sweet

I howl and howl

With sheer delight.

It feels so right.



My mind has been driven insane,

My soul has been blasted with pain,

But the reason for that is plain,

I spat in the devil’s own face.


I lived a life of vice and sin,

Women would call me the devil’s kin

And I’d answer them with a grin,

Saying, “Hell is my kind of place.”


I lived high till my dying day.

My soul forsook its earthly clay

And then the devil got his say.

He dragged me down to judge my case.


Comfortable on his great throne

Of brightly glowing, red-hot stone

He confronted me. Me, alone.

I met his gaze, stood face to face.


Said he, “I watched you live your life,

Strong willed, greedy, with evil rife,

But now, to save yourself from strife,

Remember one thing in this place.


I, and I alone, rule down here,”

He told me with a nasty sneer.

And then to make his point quite clear,

He bent and spit right in my face.


My vision went completely black

And before he had settled back,

Too fast for even him to track

I spit right back into his face.


My spittle puffed into hot steam,

Fire shot from his eyes in a beam,

In an instant he made me scream,

Burning red in his fire’s embrace.


He seared my naked soul with fire,

Intensely burning, hellish fire.

Relief became my one desire,

Release from that burning embrace.


Then at last the fire died away

And I swore I would make him pay

For what he did to me that day

But he only laughed in my face.


He said that I would never learn

And sentenced me to always burn

Until the spheres had ceased to turn.

Then demons dragged me from that place.


Long, sharp claws piercing through my soul,

They dragged me screaming to a hole,

A fiercely shining, white-hot hole,

And threw me down right on my face.


A hot glowing wall surrounds me

Heat so intense it astounds me,

Tongues of flame dance all around me,

Flicking and lashing at my face.


Down here in my hole I’m burning,

Always and forever yearning,

Constantly, restlessly turning,

Trying to ease the fire’s embrace.


Years, decades, centuries slip past,

Each day I hope to be the last,

But I’m still trapped here in the blast

Of the hot fire’s endless embrace.


This fire, it burns always hotter.

I pray for a drink of water,

For a single drop of water,

To ease this thirst I can’t erase.


I rant and rave but no one hears,

The hellish fire still burns and sears,

And I cry without shedding tears

For there’s no moisture in this place.


I damn the devil and his name

As I burn in his ceaseless flame

But I won’t accept any blame

For being sent here to this place.


I won’t admit that it’s too late,

I will never accept my fate,

And as long as I burn I’ll hate

Him for putting me in this place.


Hate and pain fill my universe,

I swear all the time and I curse,

But it keeps on getting worse;

No, Hell is not my kind of place.

The Skull

The bleached skull

Lies staring up

From the drifting sands.

Years of wind and erosion

Have smoothed its features,

Dulled its face,

Worn it through in places.

Now it is filled with sand.


Dry thoughts stir occasionally

Through its gritty mind,

Thoughts of the sun and the sky,

Of the sand and the wind,

All it can see,

All it can feel.


At night the stars look down

On the dead skull

But nothing moves,

No life remains;

Only reflections of starlight

From grains of sand

In empty sockets.


Dead Baby

I saw another dead baby

In the gutter today.

It was clogging a drain,

The falling rain

Pooling behind it.

A black and gray dog

Was worrying one arm

While a pair of cats looked on.

I kicked the dogs away

And when I got home

I cried.



I know trees that stalk in the night

On their gnarled and knobby root feet,

Shifting soundlessly, avoiding the light,

In deep darkness where the shadows meet.


Grasping the ground in their wooden grip

They seem so solid in the daylight

That I wonder how they make the trip

To scratch at my windows all night.


When the sun goes down they move about,

As darkness falls they begin to creep.

Of this I haven’t the slightest doubt

And the thought won’t let me sleep.


It’s more than just the breeze that blows,

I know those trees do more than sway,

For even in their wind-tossed throes

The longest limbs are too far away.


Every night they’re at my window,

Softly scratching on the fragile pane.

In vain despair I wish they’d go,

Stop the noise that drives me insane.


I don’t know what they want from me,

I feel them prying inside my head.

My house is surrounded, I cannot flee,

So I lie awake, afraid, in bed.


One night, I know, they’ll get inside,

Breaking through locks and wards and doors,

Leaving me with nowhere to hide,

My scream unheard by my neighbours.


Out On The Town

Every night you’re out on the town,

Smoking and drinking, having fun,

And you won’t stop for anyone

Till the devil comes to take you down.


You enjoy living your life of sin,

Enjoy it so much you never think

As you order yet another drink,

That the the devil is going to pull you in.


You’re having fun but you can’t win,

You’re living your life much too fast,

And the good times will only last

Until the devil comes to drag you in.


You’re smile is wearing a little bit thin,

So you get out your box of pills

And take them all, hoping for new thrills.

The devil starts right then to reel you in.


Satan arrives in his fiery crown,

You never knew he was so close,

But you just died of an overdose

And you know he’s here to take you down.


Chapter Two: Sonnets


A collection of Lovecraftian sonnets.

Way back in the early 1980’s, before I managed to write any worthwhile stories, while I was still heavily influenced by H.P. Lovecraft, I wrote poetry, including a series of sonnets inspired by Lovecraft’s “Fungi From Yuggoth“cycle. I kept working on them from time to time over the next couple of decades but mine were never as good as Lovecraft’s. Recently I dug them out, dusted them off and polished them up.


The Black Book

From those countless works on that crowded shelf,

From those volumes of ancient lore, I took

Only one, a thick, black, leather bound book.

Turning, clutching it tightly to myself,

I hurried from that evil, dusty place,

Out of those gloomy rooms, down silent halls

Where the life-like carvings along the walls

Leered at me with hunger in every face.


As I retraced my footprints through the maze,

Straining to see in the uneven light,

A massive statue loomed tall in my sight

And I looked up to meet its mocking gaze.

Then I saw as it moved its feet of stone,

The footprints I followed were not my own.



A gigantic upheaval in the past

Marks the distant time when this all began.

It happened long before the dawn of man;

The whole planet was shaken by the blast.

No life of Earth was there to see it come

But I know it came from somewhere Outside.

Traversing space and time it came to hide;

I dare not think what it was hiding from.


For countless eons it slept in that hill

But now it ceases to dream, it awakes.

Its restless stirring causes countless quakes

As if prepares to flee what follows still.

Heeding the warning of an ancient text

I will not stay to see what happens next.


The Shell

I came across a remarkable shell

While walking alone on a sandy shore.

When I asked what tales it could tell

It whispered to me with a gentle roar.

It told me of cities under the sea,

Of sunken temples built ages ago,

Of vast stone buildings that are not empty,

Lived in by strange beings with eyes that glow.


Thousands of years old, they ruled the world then,

Now they’re trying once again from the deep.

They do it by directing chosen men,

Manipulating their dreams as they sleep.

Shuddering, I took the shell from my ear,

But since then my dreams bring unease and fear.


The Gong

When I touched the door it crumbled to dust

And I entered a vast, dimly lit room

That echoed faintly with an age-old doom,

Or was it only the air’s sudden gust

Setting in motion that ancient bronze gong?

It hung suspended on braided gold wires

Between the ashes of long-dead fires

And right away I yearned to hear its song.


My soul shivered inside me and fled

When I felt a cold mallet in my hand

And swung, compelled by an unheard command.

It struck the gong and the sound filled my head,

The walls quivered and the solid floor shook

As the thing I’d called came forth from its nook.


The Church

The church stood alone on top of the hill,

Lurking beneath the shadow of its past.

As I approached the sun was sinking fast

And the evening air was growing chill.

The discolored white paint was cracked and peeled,

The whole building reeked of age and decay

But I pushed through the door without delay,

Eager to see what the old walls concealed.


On the far wall a cross hung inverted,

The stone altar was stained red with fresh blood.

Somewhere behind me I heard a soft thud,

Between my ribs a knife was inserted

And I fell screaming to the wooden floor

As the priest raised his knife, dripping with gore.


The Box

When I get bored I go down to the docks

To watch the ships sail in from distant lands.

One day I found a small, bejeweled box,

Bound and sealed tight with gleaming silver bands,

Lying forgotten on an empty pier.

I took it and hid it under my cloak.

Starting home I felt a cold, clammy fear

Though the deserted streets held only smoke.


I crept through cluttered alleys, glancing back

To see what followed; there was nothing there

But then everything went completely black

And I stopped for I couldn’t see anywhere.

I stood there, blind, quivering in my socks,

But the thing that came took only the box.


The Lake

The silvery moonlight shimmered brightly

Across the oily black expanse of lake

And I thought coming had been a mistake

Till the gleaming surface rippled slightly.

I knew it was no animal or fish

For none could live in the poisoned water,

And then, as though soaked up by a blotter,

The pale moonlight began to diminish.


Stars winked out, I saw the moon disappear,

Stranding me in darkness among the trees.

I felt a tremor weakening my knees

And I could not move as the thing drew near.

I heard it come, I felt a warm, wet touch

That thrilled me as I yielded to her clutch.


The Tree

When I take a walk through an old graveyard,

Seeing so many graves makes me wonder

Just how all those dead bodies down under

Are faring after years beneath the sward.

Looking around I see twisted, gnarled trees

Probing with their thick roots into the ground,

Using the choicest nourishment around,

Under the soil where no one ever sees.


There is one such place of death and decay

That the people all shun most fearfully.

The reason for that is the awful tree

That even I visit only by day

For this tree has sculpted its bark to bear

The face of the man who was buried there.


The Page

I saw a paper lying on the ground

And picked it up to take a closer look.

It seemed to be a passage torn from a book

But I wondered just what it was I’d found

For the strange characters glowed lambent red

Waxing and waning and changing in size,

Writhing and shifting right before my eyes,

Forcing bright images into my head.


Though I could not read what was written there

The dreadful meaning came painfully clear.

I shuddered once in revulsion and fear

But I recovered quickly from the scare,

For having caught a glimpse through this strange door

I was now eager to learn even more.


The Bracelet

When I saw the bracelet in the window

I knew that it was meant for me to own.

The lustrous metal was to me unknown

But it intrigued me with its soft, warm glow.

As I stared through the pane I heard it call,

Telling me it had once before been mine.

I felt like I was drunk on potent wine

And I could not resist its pull at all.


Pushing through the glass door I walked right in

And went straight to the shelf holding my prize.

I put it on my wrist to try the size

And it clamped itself tightly to my skin.

For a moment my whole body went cold,

Then surged with the power I’d know of old.


The Temple

I was deep in the jungle, weak and lost,

Far from a settlement of any kind,

Struggling for each step, when I chanced to find,

At a point where two ancient roads once crossed,

A vine-covered building of immense size.

Coming closer, I saw, carved in the stone,

Grotesque symbols in a style still unknown,

So bizarre they brought a sting to my eyes.


Dark and forbidding, hidden in shadow,

The great doorway stood open and waiting.

I moved forward without hesitating

Until I looked inside and in the glow

From low fires I saw strange figures dancing.

I turned and fled that inhuman prancing.


The Hound

The narrow, unlit street curved steeply down,

Disappearing into darkness and fog.

Somewhere below he heard a howling dog

And wished he had never come to this town

For he knew that sound from childhood dreaming;

That hellish call was the source of the fears

He had suffered with for so many years.

Through the fog he saw the hound’s eyes gleaming.


Those wide-set, yellow eyes stared right at him

And when it let out its inhuman cry

He knew for sure he was going to die,

Hunted down, torn asunder, limb from limb.

He fled, but felt its hot breath on his back

As he went down under its savage attack.


Old Enemies

I can feel those evil powers gnawing

Into my mind from the base of my brain.

I am going mad from the ceaseless pain,

The invisible, malignant clawing

That stirs deep memories of things long dead,

Unspeakable horrors that I once fought,

And banished from this world, or so I thought;

Now they’ve returned, I feel them in my head.


I can’t see them, I have no way to fight,

My body is old and my mind is weak;

I can’t find the spells I so vainly seek.

Without them I can’t match their fiendish might

And I can feel myself losing control

As they make their thrust to capture my soul.



You doctors think I’m hopelessly insane

But it was my choice to enter this game

And I know I’ve only myself to blame

For the madness eating away my brain;

I delved too deeply in forbidden lore.

You see before you now what I became

Yet still I hunger to learn even more.


I know I look like a shell of a man,

I’m crazy, so you lock me in this room,

But when the proper constellations loom

I can accomplish deeds no others can.

Yes, I know demons who come when I call;

Stay away tonight or you’ll meet your doom

When my fiends rip your steel door from the wall.


The Wicked Witch Of The North

She is the most wicked witch in the north,

She is the one who makes those chill winds blow

Down from the arctic land of ice and snow

When she sends her malicious magic forth.

Day after day the air grows colder still

And the rays of the sun can’t penetrate

The dark layer of clouds her spells create,

Piled thickly by her mad, sorcerous will.


Across the land there flows an icy breath

As she weaves bitter spells of frigid might.

Bathed in the flickering aurora’s light

She guides the winds in a current of death.

The people shiver and cower in fear,

Wondering why spring is so late this year.


The Portal

While searching through a dark, dusty basement

Under a rotten, old, abandoned house

I startled something I thought was a mouse

But it disappeared through solid cement.

I directed my light onto the spot

To see if I could find some sort of hole.

I did not, but what I felt chilled my soul

For when I touched the wall there it was hot.


As I slid my hands on the dirty concrete

The wall went soft so I pushed my way through

And discovered that I had come into

A dark place of intolerable heat.

Over my flesh I felt strange creatures crawl,

Against my back I felt a solid wall.


Chapter Three:Mainstream





Where are they now?

Only fragments remain….



The sands

Of time

Flow through

These hands

Of mine,

Flow through


The Past

And are gone…



I reach with my mind

Into the future,

Gathering threads

Of possibility

To weave

Into the tapestry

That is my life.



The sky below me,

I stand on clouds

(Insubstantial footing).

The world above

Is falling on me,

Rushing nearer,



And the world

Moves on,



Generic Love Poem (Insert the name of your choice.)

When you took my hand

Girl, you stole my heart

And now I just can’t stand

For us to be apart.


It seems that I’m caught

In the sensuous spell

You so carefully wrought

And I know you can tell,


But I can only break free

Till I think of you again,

You’re the one I need to see

As much as I possibly can.


I feel like I’m lost in space

Whenever I see you smile.

Just seeing your lovely face

Makes my whole life worthwhile.


I’ve got to have you near

Because of late I’ve found

That life is so empty, my dear,

When you’re not around.


Defiance 2

As the evening shed its golden light

And began the long fall into night

All my dreams took sudden, panicked flight,

Stranding me, forlorn and desolate.


On black leathern wings they swiftly fled,

Leaving me as one already dead,

With slow, weary thoughts inside my head

And no hope at all in my tired heart.


Standing in darkness, wanting to cry,

I shed not a tear from either eye,

For they, like my heart, were hard and dry,

And all my sorrows were trapped inside.


Anguish and grief filled my aching soul,

My entire life seemed to have no goal,

My spirit plunged down into a hole,

A bottomless pit of dark despair.


Lost and afraid in murky gloom,

Feeling like I was in my own tomb,

I sensed a heavy, impending doom

Gathering strength, closing in on me.


Feeding on my weakness and fear

It had grown over many a year

And now it knew that it’s chance was here,

To strike, and to crush my very soul.


Against this awesome evil power

I could only shiver and cower,

Facing up to my bleakest hour

Without any courage or support.


I was no longer able to cope,

I was long past the end of my rope

And I had given up any hope

Of ever seeing the light of day.


I needed help, I needed a friend,

Someone on whom I could depend

To help me avert this tragic end,

To give me reason to save myself.


I cried out loudly and no one came,

But for that I had myself to blame

Because when others had felt the same

I had never stopped to lend a hand.


My situation could not be worse,

I was threatened by a heinous curse,

To survive I needed to reverse

The downward trend weighing on my mind.


Then realization struck like a blow,

This great curse was merely a shadow

Of my own despair cast from below;

Thus I found courage to save myself.


Nothing is ever as bad as it seems,

We all have the strength to build new dreams,

The power of our own will redeems

Those whose inner drive is strong enough.


I set my teeth and I got to work

Clearing my head of the mental murk

And evil influences that lurk

In the dark to prey on weakened minds.


I swore to myself I would progress,

Get myself out of my present mess,

That I would accomplish nothing less

Than to forge new dreams and make them true.


I would stand up on my own two feet,

I’d never again admit defeat;

I would strive to make my life complete,

To bring my dreams to reality.


Then the warm glow of the rising sun

Spreading across the dark horizon

Told me a new day had just begun

And I knew there was still hope and light.


The End


For the more religious-minded in the audience, here is an alternate version of the verse fifth back from the end:


Nothing is ever as bad as it seems,

We all have the strength to build new dreams,

And the great power of God redeems

Those whose faith in him is strong enough.

Chapter Four:Nonsense

Intro: A brief spattering of nonsense verse, some of it inspired by Ogden Nash, but I really don’t know where the last one came from.


Rhyme Time (A Lament)

Now poems needn’t rhyme

All of the time

But I think it’s a crime

If they don’t rhyme

Some of the time.


Poetic Licence

If it’s hard to make sense

When you write in rhymes,

Dispense with the sense



The Eagle

The eagle is a regal bird

But with your head up watching him

You just stepped in a beagle turd.


Is She Dead

Yes, the old woman is dead,

But not everybody knows

She died from spontaneous combustion

Of the hairs in her nose.


Chapter Eight: Witches’ Spell

Witches’ Spell

Part I

Greasy candles spit and sputter,

Dark shadows dance across the walls.

Four hooded figures chant and drone,

Witches at a smoking cauldron,

Brewing their odiferous spells

Of bubbling, seething magic, black

And evil like a moonless night.


Into their iron cauldron goes

Dried demon dung and virgin’s hair,

A hanged man’s warts, a blind man’s tears,

Squirming worms and a lizard’s wing,

Carrion crawling with maggots

And tiny, shining silver scales

From the tails of venomous snakes.

Mouthing rhymes as they stir they add

Fresh menstrual blood and babies’ drool,

Stale camel piss and human bile.


The vile concoction boils thickly,

Dark bubbles burst, releasing stench

That fouls the air. The fumes, like smoke,

Rise to blacken rafters with slime.

The stirring sticks dissolve away,

The witches all take three steps back.

Over the cauldron a mist hovers,

Coalesces, and starts to spin.

An icy wind blows through the room,

The candles flare wildly, then die.


Part II

A man-like figure not a man

Forms inside the spinning cocoon.

His skin glows warmly red, his eyes

Blaze brightly with the fires of Hell.

The witches chant, he screams in pain.

He howls, strains against the confines of

the spell. He growls and curses,

He struggles, but cannot break free.

He agrees to do their bidding.


Raging, shrieking, the demon flies

As fast as thought across the sky;

A crimson chord stretches behind.

Bats and night birds flit from his path.

Below, dogs howl at his passing.

A young woman stirs in her sleep,

Disturbed by deep, uneasy dreams.

He draws near to molest her mind.


Part III

The witches watch by arcane means.

Uttering potent syllables

Of power they alter his course.

Yowling, he speeds to his target,

A group of top-secret silos

Hidden away in the mountains.

Here an atomic arsenal

Stands waiting, all primed and ready.


Invisible to cameras,

The demon eludes the alarms.

the fail-safes mean nothing to him;

Electrons obey his commands.

He breaks the code, sends the signals.

A flock of deadly birds takes flight,

Armed for mass destruction with their

Multiple nuclear warheads.


Chapter Six: Ghoul

The Ghoul

Alone in a graveyard

In the darkness of night

Here I am working hard

In the moon’s silver light.


Headstones watch uncaring

As I enter this grave

I ignore their staring

While seeking what I crave.


With shovel and pick

I remove the moist dirt.

Mud on my hands grows slick

And sweat soaks through my shirt.


And now at last I loom

Over the sealed coffin,

Preparing to exhume

The meal that waits within.


My eager fingers itch

As I pry at the lid,

Slavering for food which

All others would forbid.


Then with a sudden jerk

The casket comes unclosed.

At last I’m through with work,

the corpse is now exposed.


A young woman who lost

Her life rests on the silk,

her arms artfully crossed,

her skin as pale as milk.


her eyes are open wide,

I meet her frozen stare.

In death she cannot hide

What pain has written there.


The story of her life

Is told within her eyes.

The tragedy and strife,

the hatred and the lies,


the good times and the sad,

Her happiness and grief,

All she did, all she had,

In her lifetime so brief.


Yes, everything is told

Except the reason why

She could not gave grown old

Before she had to die,

It was all so unfair,

She was worthy of more,

But fate just did not care,

Long life was not in store.


With a tremulous hand

I gently touch her face,

With its pale beauty and

Silent, unmoving grace.


Upon my cold fingers

I seem to feel her breath,

A faint warmth that lingers

Yet from before her death.


When I remove my hand

I leave a muddy streak

That stands out like a brand

On her smooth, powdered cheek.


I try to wipe it clean

But only spread it more.

I can’t retrieve what’s been,

That vision from before.


And now, gazing at her,

I feel again my need,

A sharp pang of hunger,

The sudden urge to feed.


Her young body is firm,

The dead meat is still fresh.

I wet my lips, I yearn

To taste her tender flesh.


Even though I’m hungry

And it’s long since I ate,

A strange force prevents me,

Her beauty makes me wait.


I wish I could explain

The anguish in my head,

It’s food I came to gain,

It’s love I found instead.


A mighty conflict rages

Inside my tortured head.

I think of all the ages

I’ve eaten human dead.


In all those countless years

I’ve never felt like this,

The strong emotion sears,

But I feel only bliss.


Then my trance is broken

By a faintly heard sound.

Was it a word spoken?

Are there people around?


Now I’m out of my daze,

My senses are alert

As I carefully raise

My head above the dirt.


Again I hear the noise,

Brought to me on the breeze,

Not a word nor a voice,

Only a stifled sneeze.


Behind the high stone fence

I see a glow of light.

The a gate slowly opens,

It’s time to think of flight.


But though the men are near,

And they are seeking me,

I feel no trace of fear,

I’ve time enough to flee.


My hunger reminds me

What I came here to do,

And I know I can’t flee

Till business is through.


Back down under the soil

I gently lift her arm.

Its removal will spoil

Her elegance and charm.


But despite my regrets

I want to stay alive

And it’s dead human flesh

I need to survive.


It was no choice of mine

To play this cursed part.

While in a battle line

An arrow missed my heart.


On a cold battlefield,

Pierced through by an arrow,

I dropped my useless shield

And fell down in the snow.


No one knew where I lay,

Alone, hurt and bleeding.

All my friends went their way,

Passed my by unheeding.


As my life began to fade

Satan offered respite.

He set his price, I paid

Putting mein this plight.


Now he rules me, it’s true,

And though I have a soul

I know what I must do

To keep it, play this role.


There is only one way

For me to ever quit;

Call out to Satan and say,

“This soul is yours, take it.”


That time is mine to choose,

I’ll live until that day,

My life my own to use,

Though I must eat his way,


Always hiding, unseen

By those who don’t approve,

Who label me unclean,

Abhor my every move


Right now I have a chore

And though I’ve wasted time

I will not need much more,

There’s enough for my crime.


The cut will not be neat

Because I must be fast

But I will get me meat,

I will have my repast.


My keen blade cuts clean through

Her yielding flesh and skin,

Through the joint and sinew,

Through meat and back to skin.


The task is quickly done,

As it’s been done before,

But this time it wasn’t any fun,

It was a ghastly chore.


So now I have her arm,

I’m finished with my knife.

I really mean no harm

But is still want my life.


Thankful for what she gave,

I give her hand a squeeze.

As I climb from the grave

And hide among the trees.


Watching from the shadows

As the hunters arrive

My fear suddenly grows;

They don’t want me alive.


They’re coming after me

To end my long career.

I must not let them see

That I’m still hiding here.


They all gather around

To study the remains

In that hole in the ground,

Her missing arm, the stains.


I see them clearly now

As they discuss my work.

The leader makes a vow,

His hand upon his dirk,


I know this man too well,

He has hunted me before.

We’ve many tales to tell

About our private war.


Crag has not caught me yet,

I’m sure he never will.

My life he cannot get,

It’s his blood that will spill.


I think of all the times

He’s tried to capture me,

But despite my many crimes

I’m still at large and free.


Lost in these memories

I’m brought back by a shout.

As I turn I am seized,

One quick blow and I’m out.


I never had a chance,

I was easy to find.

I didn’t see them advance

To attack from behind.


My poor head is reeling

As I slowly come round.

My hands have no feeling,

They are so tightly bound.


My feet are also tied

So I can hardly squirm.

I lie there on my side,

as helpless as a worm.



What was the attraction,

How could it be so strong,

So strong no distraction

Warned me I’d stayed too long?


No woman before her

Has made me feel this way.

Just how did she differ,

What on Earth made me stay?


A pair of black-booted feet

Stop inches from my face.

Again Crag and I meet

In a dark burial place.


There’s no love between us,

We both hate each other.

It has always been thus,

Since I ate his mother.


‘So you’re awake at last,”

He snarls in rage at me.

“You’ve escaped in the past,

This is my victory.”


I look into his eyes,

His anger’s plain to see.

He holds her arm and cries,

“For this you’ll pay to me.


“Just think of all the grief

Your feeding habits bring.

You vile, nocturnal thief,

You cause such suffering.


“You will not get away,

There’s no way out for you.

For all your crimes you’ll pay,

This time you’ll get your due,”


Holding aloft her arm,

Crag rants and raves at me.

With increasing alarm

I watch him fearfully.


My position is grim;

I know my time has come,

I can’t escape from him,

I’ve never felt so glum.


I know he speaks the truth,

There’s just one thing to do,

Give up eternal youth,

Tell Satan that I’m through.


But still he lectures on

About my evil ways,

Tells me all hope is gone,

Looks straight at me and says,


“I will never forgive

You for what you have done.

You don’t deserve to live,

You should be dead and gone.”


Yes, you are right,” I say,

“I’ve lived a life of vice.

I can’t go on this way

So I must pay the price,”


Though I tremble with fear

I do what I must do.

“Satan,” I cry, ““Come here,

I’ve got something for you.”


From nowhere thick smoke pours,

The whole world seems sway.

Trees move and the wind roars,

The men all back away.


Bright forks of lightning flash,

There’s a throb in the air,

Then a deafening crash

And Satan’s standing there.


He holds an arm of bone

Which he throws to the ground.

“For this you must atone.”

He laughs, an ugly sound.


“You played the game quite well

But now for you it ends.

Into my trap you fell,

It’s time to make amends.


“The girl was never there,

Nothing was as it seemed,

Because the whole affair

Was just something you dreamed.


“You were alone all night

Until you summoned me,

‘Cause I controlled your sight,

Determined what you’d see.


“So now I’ve truly won,

Your soul belongs to me.

With it I’ll have my fun

For all eternity.”


Helpless, I see him make

A quick, mystical sign

Helpless I watch him take

A soul no longer mine.


I feel a painful twitch,

An emptiness inside,

A strange, dark coldness which

Tells me I’ve truly died.


My old wound starts to bleed,

But I can’t feel the hurt;

So now I pay no heed

As my blood soaks the dirt.

Chapter Seven: Zombie


Chapter Seven: Zombi

Zombi 2300 words

Alone, dejected, he wanders the streets by night,

An exile in the city, hiding from the light.

He feels a compulsion to scrutinize faces

As men go by, but does so from hidden places

For he recalls how people react to his face,

And he knows he no longer belongs to their race.


Though he tries to forget he remembers his death,

Alone in a dark alley, struggling for a breath,

His money stolen and a sharp knife through his lung,

Bleeding and dying on a heap of waste and dung.

Although his body died his soul remained behind,

With just one overpowering thought in his mind;

Vengeance, to find the man who took away his life

And to pay him back with his own discarded knife.


His filthy clothes are full of ragged holes and tears,

The windy streets are cold but he no longer cares,

His dead body is unaffected by the freeze,

It does not feel the icy bite of winter’s breeze.

His dim mind no longer comprehends the seasons

But even though he is not aware of the reasons

He takes advantage and spend those long dark hours

Roaming endlessly amidst the cities towers

Forever searching, scouring the streets for his prey.


He slips into shadow, someone’s coming his way,

It’s a woman, walking the city streets alone.

Watching her there comes from deep in his chest a moan,

A glint of recognition shimmers in his eyes;

He steps out in front of her, she stops in surprise.


Standing there, facing her, he sees her eyes go round.

He tries to speak her name, his dead throat makes no sound

So he moves closer, reaching out a cold blue hand.

She speaks a single word he can’t quite understand,

But it’s meaning stirs memories. He turns to run

Eager to get away, to escape what she’s done.

The word still burns in his mind like a clean, white flame,

He can’t escape what she said; she called out his name.


With the image of her face alive in his head

He tries to cross the street, wishing he was not dead,

That he could return to her and resume his life,

But that’s not possible so he runs from his wife.


Half a block away a traffic light turns to green.

As cars start to move he slips on an icy sheen,

Falls, sprawled on the pavement. He scrambles to his feet

Just in time to be flung like a limp sack of meat

From the shiny fender of a speeding black car.

He hears a woman screaming, as though from afar,

As he lands and rolls to a stop near a brick wall.


He regains his feet after his bone-crushing fall.

With broken bones grating and his right foot dragging,

His somewhat erratic course zigging and zagging

To the nearest corner he makes good his escape,

Moving as fast as he can for one in his shape.

Down half a block he squeezes through a narrow crack

Between two buildings and emerges at the back,

Then shuffles away down the deserted alley,

The buildings concealing him in their dark valley.


He wanders for hours, heedless of his scrapes and breaks.

The memory fades like all his other mistakes

What’s left of his mind returns to its former state,

Forgetting life and love, thinking only of hate,

Focusing and concentrating on just one man,

A man whose life he knows he will take when he can.

He’ll forever remember the grinning punk’s face.

It hovers now before him so he speeds his pace

But it recedes, a phantom of his decayed mind

Brought on by the thoughts of the man he wants to find.


He stumbles after it toward a distant glow

Until it fades in the sunrise and his steps slow

As he becomes aware of the increasing light

That he knows will soon be intolerably bright

Unless he can quickly find a safe place to hide

Among the buildings towering on every side.


He stops in front of a nearby basement window

Sealed tight against vagabonds and encroaching snow.

He pries at the topmost board, loosening nails,

Trying to get inside before the darkness fails.

One end comes loose and with a loud crack the board breaks.

He continues, regardless of the noise he makes,

Heedless of splinters and nails, enlarging the gap

So he’ll have a private place for his daily nap.


When the hole’s big enough for him he climbs inside,

Falls to the floor and searches for a place to hide

Somewhere in the darkness where he will not be found.

He crawls behind a crate and falls limp to the ground.

As the sun comes up his awareness fades away;

He lives only at night and is dead through the day.


All through the daylight hours he lies there undisturbed

Till the sun goes down and he rises, much perturbed.

His hands are ragged and worn right down to the bone,

He has seven fractures in his right leg alone

And he’s lost several pounds of flesh and skin.

He doesn’t know where he is or how he got in,

All he knows is that he wants to get out right now,

That he will find his prey tonight, somewhere, somehow.

Although his dead body can no longer feel pain

It’s taken as much abuse as it can sustain

Without ceasing to function or falling apart.

He ignores all the damage, each night’s a fresh start

Because his power to move is fueled by hate,

A relentless craving to seal his killer’s fate.


A part of him recalls the meeting with his wife

And he wonders briefly if he caused her much strife.

He could not speak to tell her what was done to him

But that is not important now, however grim,

For he does not feel any sadness or remorse,

All that concerns him now is that peculiar force

That pulls so strongly, urges him into motion

To get to the man he seeks with such devotion.


The basement is cluttered and it’s completely dark

So he walks slowly, swinging his arms in an arc,

Groping the space ahead, but despite all his cares

He trips in the darkness on a steep flight of stairs.

He crawls up to the top and there regains his feet,

Then shambles down the corridor toward the street.

The heavy door at the end is solidly locked

But he cannot tolerate his progress being blocked

So he flings himself wildly at the wooden door.

He rebounds and falls back on the hard dusty floor.

He tries repeatedly, battering his body

Till the door weakens, breaks open, and sets him free.


Out of the building the pull is even stronger

And he knows he won’t have to wait much longer

Because he can tell which direction he must go.

He tries to move quickly but his body is slow,

In his ruined condition he cannot go fast

But he has to hurry before his chance is past.


The night is clean and cold, the stars are bright and hard.

A graveyard of dead, empty buildings stands on guard

Against the evil forces and strange dark powers

That dare not come out during the daylight hours.

The black walls seem to lean, threatening to crush him

As he passes beneath, dragging his broken limb

Heading into the living heart of the city,

Heedless of his safety in his insanity.


He leaves the buildings’ concealing darkness behind,

Pulled by a stronger force of a different kind,

A force powered by a hate as hard as concrete

Which now directs him down a busy, well-lit street.


Cars and trucks go speeding by in a steady stream.

No one stops. He moves like someone caught in a dream,

Step by step, ignoring all the sounds and sights,

Unaware that he is passing under bright lights

Which show distinctly the condition he is in

With his battered body and ravaged clothes and skin.

Intent on reaching his goal as soon as he can

His thoughts are focussed on one particular man

So his surroundings do not concern him at all;

He disregards everything but the silent call.


Traffic is thick, the winter night has just begun,

He doesn’t notice anything or anyone.

Crossing busy streets without varying his pace

He enrages drivers who, when they see his face,

Forget their anger and rejoin the steady flow

To escape what they saw under the streetlight’s glow.

Uncaring, he continues to shuffle along,

Unmindful of the fast-increasing evening throng.


He doesn’t make any attempt at all to hide

And the people quickly, fearfully, step aside

To let him pass as if they’re afraid of his touch,

But there’s only one man whose flesh he yearns to clutch.

For him it’s as though no one else is there,

They can do whatever they like, he doesn’t care.


The life of the city goes on, flows around him.

He is not a part of it and his mind, though dim,

Realizes this. For a moment he despairs

But such emotion doesn’t last, he no longer cares;

All that matters is that his killer is near

And the force that directs him is perfectly clear.

This psychic link had been there from the start

But he couldn’t feel it when they were too far apart;

Now it pulls at him with a strength he can’t ignore.


He follows it across one last street, through a door

Into a restaurant where he spies the punk’s face.

He rapidly crosses the intervening space

And confronts the person who took away his life.

He notices that he no longer has the knife

But that doesn’t matter to him, he’s found his man

And will kill him quickly now, any way he can.


His prey hears him approach and looks up from his plate,

Recognizes him and his intent, sees his fate

Descend on him as a man he’d thought safely dead

Reaches out for him. He screams once in shock and dread

As dead fingers lock tight around his living neck

With an icy grip that holds him firmly in check.

He struggles wildly, futilely, to catch his breath

But he cannot breathe and he knows he faces death.


Waitresses and customers scream and back away

As the walking corpse kills the man it came to slay.

The man tries to push it off but the freezing grip

Is too strong for him to loosen and it won’t slip

From his constricted throat however hard he pries.

Strips of dead flesh come off in his hands as he dies

But his killer doesn’t notice, he feels no pain

And keeps on squeezing until his victim is slain.


Then, dropping the lifeless body to the floor,

His task at last completed, he turns to the door

And finds himself staring into his wife’s blue eyes,

Eyes that accuse him without a word as he tries

To explain to her why he has just killed a man,

How he came to be this way, how it all began,

But his body does not respond, no sound comes out,

His lungs are dead and empty and his loudest shout

Is a meaningless ghastly rattle, nothing more,

So in defeat he pushes past her to the door.


As he comes closer their psychic fields merge and mesh,

He’s jolted by the fleeting nearness of her flesh.

In that single, brief instant he becomes aware

Of how his disappearance caused her such despair,

How she cried and worried while he was gone away,

How she spent some time searching for him every day.

There was no sign or word of him until last night

When their paths crossed, but then he’d resorted to flight

For he had been incapable of any speech

And she had scared him away before he could reach

Out and touch her. Now she catches him by the hand

As he tries to escape and pulls him back to stand

Before her, his putrid face inches from her own

Fresh-complexioned beauty, her eyes as hard as stone.


Every detail of what has happened to him

Pours out through their psychic link and her eyes grow dim

As she learns of his death and the vengeance he sought,

How his hatred kept him going and fought off rot,

How he hid by day and searched the city by night

Till he found the man responsible for his plight.


Her eyes focus on his, absorb his fearful hate,

And the warmth of her love begins to penetrate

The countless layers of his cold, undying rage.

He struggles desperately, tries to disengage

But she holds him firmly and won’t let him go

Because she still loves him and wants him to know.

But his body is sustained by anger and hate

And as he accepts the love flowing from his mate

His whole world seems to move, beginning to revolve,

Spinning around and around, starting to dissolve.

He goes limp, falling and sprawling across the floor,

Releasing the soul that was trapped at the core.

His world stops spinning and fades rapidly away

As his soul at last takes leave of his earthly clay.


Head bowed, his wife lets out a single painful sob

As she pushes her way through the gathering mob.

It’s all over now, her husband is truly dead,

His body rots on the floor, but his soul has fled.

He is no longer driven by his hate and pain

Because he’s had his revenge, his killer is slain.


The End


Chapter Eight: Bonus Poems


These are early poems that almost didn’t make it into this book, but I decided to include them in this bonus chapter. A couple more early poems should probably be in this chapter too.


Black Sabbath 1980

Ozzy went insane

And split from the band.

Tony scorns the pain

In his mangled hand

And continues to play.

Now Ronnie has come

With new things to say,

While Bill with his drums

And Geezer his bass

Still keep up the same

Unrelenting pace.

It’s a well-known game

But despite the years

They still beat the rest

And to my numb ears

They’ll always be best.



I know that you said

That when you were dead

You would wait for me

And I know that you would

If you possibly could

But who knows where you’ll be?


You know very well

There’s no way to tell

What death holds in store.

Perhaps it’s true, my friend,

That to die is the end

And there’s nothing more.


And if you do have a soul

How can you know the role

It will be forced to play?

Maybe an awesome power

Will want it to devour

And for all your sins you’ll pay.


And if it’s to Heaven you go

You should already know

I could never join you.

You would be an angel

And I would burn in Hell;

How happy would that make you?


And if there’s reincarnation

You might be born in a nation

Where I could never find you.

You’d live a life without me

In a land I’d never see,

Never sharing the love we knew.


But we can cheat our destiny

If you only put your trust in me

And give me all your charms

For all we’ve got to do is this;

Seal out time with a poisonous kiss

And die forever in each other’s arms.



If you’re a virgin beauty

And feel the need acutely,

For the price of your soul

You can achieve your goal

For it’s never too late

To be Satan’s next mate,

Though once it’s him you find

You cannot change your mind

Because ending your quest

Puts you resolve to the test

When you’re given a choice;

Repent and die, or rejoice

When Satan breaks through

To plunge deep into you.

At first rough and rasping,

Then slipping and grasping

Until the red hot eruption

Of Satan’s foul corruption

Comes spurting forth

With an unwholesome warmth,

But when he is finished,

Though your need is diminished

And your body’s relieved,

Within you, a demon is conceived.


Chapter Nine: Pot Poems

Intro: Another bonus chapter, with my poem about marijuana. The repeating lines are part of the rigorous structure of the pantoum.


Pot Pantoum

Lots of people like to get high

Smoking a pipe or a big fat joint

Something to help themselves get by

And isn’t that the whole damned point


Smoking a pipe or a big fat joint

There’s nothing wrong with taking a toke

And isn’t that the whole damned point

There’s no reason to fear the smoke

There’s nothing wrong with taking a toke
Nothing wrong with the wondrous weed

There’s no reason to fear the smoke

It won’t create insatiable need

Nothing wrong with the wondrous weed
The weed is so misunderstood

It won’t create insatiable need

It makes people feel really good


The weed is so misunderstood

People don’t need a reason why

It makes people feel really good

Lots of people like to get high


Jack Horner

Little Jack Horner

Sat in a corner

Smoking some buds of Thai.

He took a big toke,

Blew out some smoke

And said, “Man am I high.”


If you liked this book please take the time to write a short review, and check out other titles by this author. Thank you.


About the Author: Rik Hunik was born in Nelson, British Columbia, Canada, in 1957, and has lived his entire life in BC, except for a few summers in Alberta, and a few days in Washington State climbing rocks. He has lived in Ymir, Wells, Quesnel, Prince George, Quesnel, North Vancouver, Quesnel, Burnaby, North Delta, and Quesnel. He lives with his wife Jo and a 17-pound (big, not fat), blue-eyed, white cat named Mister. Although he mostly constructs buildings to earn a living, he is a also a writer, poet, photographer, artist, indepentdent e-book publisher, and role playing game designer. He’s written dozens of stories, including fantasy, horror, sword & sorcery, mystery, humor, erotica, and science fiction, frequently combining genres. More than forty have been published in small press magazines and e-zines. He has also published dozens of ebooks at Shakespir, many available to the public for the first time.


Find him on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/rikhunik


Other titles by Rik Hunik: available at Shakespir.com/profile/view/rikhunik


Down Among The Hoodoos (atmospheric ghost story)

The Hole Story (science fiction, space opera)

Widdershins (modern fantasy retelling of old English folk tale)

The Gold Watch (western ghost story)

Defiance (horror poem)

Easy Money (alternate history, fantasy, paranormal detective novel)

Key Service (humorous contemporary fantasy)

On Full Moon Night (horror poem)

Incident In A Tomb (fantasy, horror, humor)

The Ghost In The Kettle (contemporary ghost story)

The Sitting (horror)

Worse Than An Orphan’s Curse (dark fantasy)

Joyride (fantasy, horror)

Green Eyes (horror)

Defiance 2 (poem)

Witch’s Skin (horror)

The Dark Gate (fantasy novel, sword & sorcery)

Forces Of Evil: The Board Game (horror, humor, zombies)

Night Lures (science fiction)

The Hole (horror, joke)

Under The Shade Tree (ghost story)

Wake-Up Call ( flash fiction)

Time To Time (A collection of time travel stories)

Swords & Knives & Sorcery& Magic (An eclectic collection of sword and sorcery stories)

Witches’ Skins; The Witch Skin Quartet




The Black Book A Collection Of Poems

  • Author: Rik Hunik
  • Published: 2016-10-27 07:50:12
  • Words: 9391
The Black Book A Collection Of Poems The Black Book A Collection Of Poems