Strange Poem by Mark Fullick

A strange thing is happening to people I know,
At first they start laughing and then their minds go.

An incessant giggling’s the long road to doom,
Out of the world and back into the womb.

A process reversing from manhood to child,
Controlled by creature horrific and wild.

With the crack of the mind-whip and lash of the tongue,
Sinew from sanity unwind come undone

Now you have the fear and I have the power,
Please take my hand and together we’ll flower.

Yes fear is my passion, my stock and my trade;
I’m the only one standing when the last card is laid.

What manner of evil might this creature be?
This puller of strings who’s pupating me.

I turn blood in to ink, and spill this on the paper,
Then you buy my book and get soaked with the caper.

You trust me to show you the evil and dread,
Then pull you back before your eyes leave your head.

So now open your eyes and hold my book tighter,
For you’re in the parlour of the horror book writer.

2003