Night Stalkers Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Night Stalkers

Rating: 2.2

'Twas past the twilight hour.
A timid knock woke me from sleep.
Before my faculties had re-ignited,
the door pushed open and the hinges squeaked.

And there she was, a golden angel with black hair,
gown of chiffon, laced with some specs of pink.
Sat on my bed to cover me with fragrance
of heavenly perfume and scent of time.

She took my hand and held it to her throat.
I felt the pulse of destiny, so steady yet so weak.
I pinched my nipple just to see if I was dreaming,
when she began to whisper to my sleepy face.

'I came to promise you eternal life with me,
to live on clouds of fluff and all are lined with promise,
and you can ravish me with all the wild abandon
that's marked your earthling life, with such distinction.'

She'd slipped her gown off now, revealing breasts,
that were the appetising size of medium pears.
Her pelvis was so finely chiseled I was dizzy,
and not a whisp of hair to spoil her iv'ry beauty.

I prayed for light right then, too shy to flick the switch,
when old man moon approached my window with a vengeance.
My head was light, I felt like floating on the cloud,
that she had mentioned while my head still paid attention.

She gave my hand back now and breathed a last prediction:
'You cannot touch me now as I am not
with you as flesh and bone, it's just my image,
but you may hold me briefly to confirm
that on your death you'll meet me on cloud nine,
where we will do perpetual fornication
and never stop this heavenly pastime.

Then she was gone, leaving behind
the imprint of her breasts upon my chest.
The moon had left, my night returned,
and then another dream of destiny began.

Part II

'Twas half past three, the night was filled with mist.
A pleasant drizzle tapped its rhythm on tin roofs.
A knock is heard, is this my angel once again?
The door flew open and the Devil came inside.

He stank of sulphur and the rotten stench of vultures,
sat on my bed and took my clammy hand.
Placed on his throat, it caused a transformation:
His mustard-coloured gown had dropped away,
revealing the attractiveness of alabaster skin
and breasts the size of monster grapefruits, proud and firm.

Awed, as I was, he whispered to my face:
'Yes, what you see here is my promise to you now! '
He'd lost his hoof, acquired shapely legs.
And in his crotch there grew a veritable jungle;
he saw my eyes and wiped all feathers now away,
said 'call me Diva, let me tell you what you may...
upon your death you meet me at the portals,
where Hannibal had Elephants assembled.
I'll whisk you up to your new shiny brimstone fortress,
you'll float on air that's heated by the burning flesh of sinners.

And there you have the choice of constant fornication,
I'll send you devils of most scrumptious look and taste.
They'll smell of sulphur and do harbour sour grapes
within their burning cores, away from prying eyes.'

She gave my hand back now, and yes it was a she,
stood up and backed away toward the squeaky door.
And picking up the mustard-yellow heathen's gown,
I saw a newly sprouted thatch curl in the moonlight.

Then IT was gone, leaving behind
the hoofprint, upon my sheet, a trace of Devil's Dust.
The moon had left, the night returned.
And then another dream of destiny began.

Part III

At half past three the morning next to follow,
a knock upon my door awoke me quickly.
It opened then and sweeping in was God,
he wore a golden fleece and strangely knitted beard.

He sat upon my bed and placed his hand
onto my heart so I could feel the beat.
Then whispered at my face this simple question:
'How will you choose', he said, 'between the two temptations,
it must be you who's master of his destiny? '

I did not hesitate confessing condemnation
of all things lacking truth and honesty per se.
I said that although grapefruits were delicious,
and pears had tiny stems and less attractive shape.
It was the fact that where the sour grapes are hidden,
behind a jungle of fast-growing, dark deceit,
my destiny would be of little value
to those who hold up mirrors half past three.

Then he was gone, leaving behind his smile.
The moon had left, my night at last returned,
and now another dream of destiny was just beginning.
My wearing of his smile was something new.

Rich Hanson 02 January 2005

Superb! I really enjoyed reading it. Well-crafted! Well told!

0 0 Reply
Allan James Saywell 02 January 2005

Herbert i wondered who wrote the old testement, it was you you old bugger no my young friend that was great, no flaw in this piece of art, has to be one of your best, you love the long poems, but your good at them, if we do a book together you have to include this one With a warmth allan

0 0 Reply
Herbert Nehrlich1 02 January 2005

Sandra, those words coming from you......a real honour. Thank you. H

0 0 Reply
Sandra Osborne 02 January 2005

Utterly speachless. This is well worked and thought out. A Masterpiece.

0 0 Reply
Error Success