All Devils Naked Poem by Rod M.Peters

Well I know of the sleek vampires
Creeping out of their gilded coffins
And fixing themselves a Martini before they
Swoosh out of their penthouse windows
To prowl about the seedy, dim-lit byways
Of this suburban wasteland.

With their Gucci capes and their
Well-polished Italian shoes
They cast their mesmerizing effluvia
Upon the wayward lads
Smoking in the cemetery,
Or the tremulous lassies with pink ribbons
Walking back home from choir practice.

Blowing the fine golden dust from
Their hiding places in darkened recesses,
Kindling wild dreams of Yellow Brick Roads
And porcelain cups with sweet sparkling wines
That make you forget your drab, pointless lives
And bring the promise of ceaseless laughter
In the company of the young and beautiful.

O, well I know of the drained carcasses
Swept under the Persian carpets
Or sold to the meat grinders,
Of the souls that haunt inner-city lanes
And try to articulate their desperate longing
For a guiding light but merely cast
Chilling shrieks through shriveled lips.

O, well I know of the kingdom of the Vampire Lord
And the Black Sun revered,
Sapping the will of the blooming rose and
Casting adrift the sea-ploughing ship,
Of the army of social workers
Doing the bidding of their hidden masters,
And the cult of the medical attendants
Inoculating their poisons,

And, yes, I pray for the quickening blow
Of the sweeping wave coming from
The center of reality, where Time holds no sway,
Leaving, in its wake, all the doors open,
All lies exposed, all devils naked.