We are proud to published the poetry of Jason Constantine Ford
BIO
Jason Constantine Ford is from Perth in Australia. He works
as an employee at a book shop. He has over ninety publications of poetry and
fiction in various poetry and literary magazines, ezines and journals from
around the world such as the Cortland Review, the Criterion: an International
Journal in English, the Muse: an International Journal of Poetry, Bewildering
Stories, and the Horror Zine. The major influences on his style of poetry are Edgar
Alan Poe and William Blake. Jason’s main influences for short stories are Bram
Stroker and Phillip K. Dick. For correspondence, contact Jason at jasonconstantinford@gmail.com .
The Testament of
Darkness
The leader of the
undead is guiding her flock
Along a shore as she is
holding a clock
Which reaches the
strike of the midnight hour
When the powers of
Darkness obtain full power.
A veil is removed as
she exposes her face
Radiating both beauty
and youth immense.
She opens a book that
the demons of hell embrace
As the highest
testament of Darkness dense.
She reads out a passage
imploring the need
For the living to die
and be subject to her creed.
“City of sleeping prey
persist in your ignorance
As the powers of
Darkness seek to lock you in a trance.
May every kind of germ
be released into the air
And shrivel up the
fields of grain which you endear.
Among you feeble minds
who are not willing to repair
The broken gates of a
city which is set to disappear.
May the ancient curse
arise from the arid ground
And spread itself out
with power most profound.
May the hands of
Darkness surround you like a horde
Of vipers who are ready
to kill you with the sword.”
The Composition of a Curse
Inside a room where a
curse is abiding,
The priestess of
Darkness is presiding
Over the composition of
a song.
Using a pen filled with
blood from her prey,
She writes the words of
a canticle which convey
The need for a curse to
rise up to status strong.
The ink of each
victim’s blood seals every word
With the power that
Darkness’ hand has inferred
Upon a priestess who
ends lives with a single gaze.
After the song is
completed with a dot of ink,
A curse causing
people’s fortunes to sink
Into the ground is
reaching another phase.
The names the priestess
strikes through with a pen
Are the ones destined
to become poor when
The canticle shall be
sung at the midnight hour.
The priestess and her
flock leave the cellar to sing
A canticle of
misfortune that shall bring
People to their knees
when their lives turn sour.
The Canticle of
Misfortune
A piece of paper for a
song accursed is held up in the air
By a priestess who
desires her foes to fall into despair.
The priestess of
Darkness anoints a song with a wand
Filled with magic
charms reaching down to hell and beyond.
After she begins to
sing her song, a vapour is spreading
Over a city where the
feet of Misfortune are treading.
Upon direct contact
with the vapour, the crops are dying
Helplessly against a
curse the Darkness is supplying.
The destructive power
inherent within a single curse
Is squeezing the city
of its’ vigour as deadly vapours disperse.
As fruits and
vegetables are shrivelling to status dry,
Producers of food
cannot explain why their crops must die.
The priestess continues
her song with the rising wrath of a voice
Penetrating a sleeping
city as the hounds of hell rejoice.
Feast of the Undead
In an abandoned kitchen
renowned for its disgrace
Of being home to wicked
souls already dead,
Utensils reflect a
lady’s beauty trace by trace
As she collects the
flesh of prey which must be fed
To fellow vampires
inside a dining room
Eager to enjoy the meat
they shall consume.
The meat is chopped in
pieces small upon a plate
And brought to guests
with appetites which salivate.
The waitress serving
spoon divides each piece with haste
As food is fed to fangs
immune to status grey.
Vampires complete the
meal without a hint of waste
As they enjoy the flesh
the waitress chose to slay.
After a meal of meat
and blood has reached its’ end,
Appetites for taste of
living flesh extend.
A Field of Former
Lovers
The scent of beauty
infused with lies is spread into the air
As a lady walks across
a field accursed with bones defiled.
She treads upon the
unburied bones of former lovers who had a share
In a type of love which
killed the bodies of men who were beguiled.
The memories of the
unworthy men who failed to satisfy
Her desire for a
commitment cemented into the ground
Are regularly
remembered as the prey she chose to deny
Any chance of obtaining
an immortal bond most profound.
As she patiently awaits
the scent of the next man’s arrival,
The wolves begin
howling wildly upon a mountain peak.
Their cries are a
message of doubt regarding the survival
Of the men ready to
kiss the seductive lips they seek.
