Again I walk a Whitechapel street,
Near where the Thames does flow.
Many fresh faces I shall greet,
In its darkness strewn with woe.
I've been away for a while,
Slowly killing time in hell.
Where the devil is my admirer,
And released me for doing well.
I return from beyond my grave,
You can't keep a good Jack down,
But in my case a truly bad one,
Stalking again in Whitechapel town.
Oh! It feels good to be back,
I will now put on a wicked show,
My tools always carried with me,
All guaranteed to make blood flow.
Cold steel instruments of death,
Feel natural in my tight grip.
Then I slip into dark character
As I tear, cut, slice and rip.
Feels good to be back in the game,
My tally demonically on the rise.
Beware inky black London streets,
That reveal a slashing surprise.
You all know what I do seek,
If ever forgotten a travesty.
An insult to crime's history,
And to my infamous legacy...
Hello my dear.
Good heavens you're alone.
On an unforgivingnight like this...
A very wicked and most frightening poem Shaun. I really like the ending. I can only imagine what will happen next...aargh! It's definitely a fear inducing five from me.
Beautiful poem. Any relations with Jack the Ripper. Tech is here. We can do a DNA on PH
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thomas thanks for your comment and yes one of his letters to Scotland Yard was the infamous " From H e l l" one. And in the movie of the same name, when the late actor Ian Holm has in one scene normal eyes when talking then suddenly he has all black eyes is so chilling and memorable, the stuff of nightmares. For he's transformed in mid conversation into Jack. Thanks again Thomas and well done for today's Member Poem of the Day with your superb poem Preying At The Ten Bells.