When, lit by a lightning
flash, descended
A figure of evil
And loathing, blended.
His figure was tall,
His eyes were lazers;
His face was menacing,
His teeth were razors.
He was malicious,
And Igor was eager;
With Ginsu knives
And a kitchen cleaver.
With nowhere to run
And nowhere to hide,
They slowly advanced
On the groom and bride.
Through scarlet windows,
The lightning flashed;
The cowards cowered,
The slashers slashed;
The screamers screamed,
The bleeders bled;
The bodies fell,
Till all were dead.
And just before
The break of dawn,
Turning TV off,
I gave a yawn:
“The special effects
Weren’t bad, ” I said,
“For such a loser.”
And went to bed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem