Trial of the Lilithite - 3 (Pt. 2)

"My children, please -- a black disease

Has made it to our crew:

This devil whore must tempt no more --

God knows what we must do.

Be not afraid, for God hath bade

In Galatians 5:16 - 

The way of flesh, what grind and thresh,

Be sinful and unclean!

Make tight the lashes! -- My, how she thrashes,

And in tongues, calls us names,

By His word writ, I do commit

Her body to the flame!

It took no time, the grisly crime;

Her death was cruel and hard,

'Til from the chains hung her remains

Blackened, burned and charred.

Once all was done, by setting sun,

They made the sea her grave;

I didn't speak -- felt sick and weak,

Whose soul did Tucker save?

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Trial of the Lilithite - 3 (Pt. 1)

All ships stopped there, and formed a square

Around their ranting priest,

Leant on their decks, they craned their necks;

On murder they would feast.

They held her down, her ankles bound,

While Tucker's face was stern.

"A cross we'll make -- a wooden stake

Upon which she shall burn."

My mouth agape, hair on my nape

as firm and course as wire,

I stared in shock, clutched Tucker's frock

And pleaded, "End this, Sire!"

"Master Ben, my closest friend,

Thy faith must be restored --

By God's hand, we'll not touch land

With the devil's quim aboard." 

The hungry crowd grew fierce and loud,
Demanding blood be shed;
As Tucker's call held them in thrall,

I merely hung my head.

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Compatible Monsters - 7

"Of course, my darling. I apologize.

I won't use you like that anymore,

But I'd point out some things, if you don't mind.

For one, I asked you not to take his life;

A hostage would have come in handy, no?

Yet this one thing, you flatly disobeyed.

Not as though I cared about his life -- 

Most certainly, the man deserved to die --

But he's no longer useful to us now,

In fact, you've put a wrinkle in the plan.

They'll wonder where he is and come looking,  

And when they find him, all hell will break loose. 

Don't misunderstand me, little one:

I expected quite the massacre,

But you exceeded my expectations;

It seems the changes come on rapidly.

You feel it coming, don't you -- the fury?

The overwhelming need to hunt, and kill. 

Your senses sharpening, much like your teeth,

Transformed by forces ancient and primal,

A cocktail of instinct and pure fury,

Reborn, howling under the Blood Moon;

Ravenous for meat -- the flesh of men --

A rather horrid mess, the whole affair. 

Some call your kind 'werewolves', but that's not true.

The creature you become can be varied, 

Though only carnivores -- that much is known,

And only women suffer from the curse. 

The details of it aren't relevant, 

And something I don't care to talk about. 

All that matters now is our escape;

We need to get ourselves out of here,

Unless you'd rather be strapped to the bunk,

And drugged into a chemical coma?

I didn't think so. There's no time to waste.

Close and lock the door, with him inside;

Now follow me -- I know a place to hide."

The Dark Goddess - 7

"Shut up, Weasel. I was gonna let you ride shotgun, but you had to shoot me. People who shoot me have to ride in the trunk."

I'm saving his life, and he keeps pissing in my ear about letting him go. Idiot thinks I kidnapped him so I can kill him. Even put a bullet in my leg tryin' to fight me off, which he should have known was stupid. "You shoot a guy named Dumptruck, you deserve to have your dumb ass stuffed in the back of his car. Them's the rules, Weez. Now pipe down or I'm going to pull over and b

(EAT)

the living

(FLESH)

hell out of you."

The hunger is getting stronger, and the mouths are grinding their teeth. It's maddening, that gnashing sound. I need to eat. I need 

(FLESH)

to eat very soon, and this shitty car won't go any faster, and Weez will not stop crying like a baby and that goddamned chewing noise in my head won't stop. Sweat pours from every part of me. I want to eat him so bad my dick is hard. I'm shivering like a junkie, and trying to drive. "Weasel, shut the fuck up."

He doesn't even hear me. Bawling like a baby. I can't take it anymore. I take a hard right turn into the ditch at a thousand miles an hour, throw on the hazard lights and get out of the car. I pop the trunk, and see him lying there, half conscious and terrified. He panics, but a couple of shots to the jaw calms him down. "Listen to me, Weasel. That body in my room was the manager of the hotel I just left. I was there with a lady friend, but she's a crazy bitch, man. She killed the bellhop, and tried pinning it on me. I came here to hide out a bit, maybe. She knew I'd come here, so she left me the manager." He makes a noise like a walrus trying to sing. "Don't ask how she knew, she just did. Just like she knew where I'm going next -- and guess whose body she'd have waiting for me there, strung up and bled like a pig, Weasel?"

He goes silent, finally. "There you go, buddy. I'm trying to keep you alive, and all I'm asking in return is that you shut the fuck up so I don't have to listen to you bl

(EAT)

like a goat. Deal?"

He's unconscious. He can't hear me anymore. Thank Christ. I slam the trunk door and get back on the highway, a single rocket flying into the abyss.

My Dark Queen calls to me like a tribal drum... and I must go. My foot rams the gas pedal to the floor. 

Soon, my Goddess, we will be one. 

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Trial of the Lilithite - 2

"Stay back," he bid, and so I did, 

"No talking to the crew."

With that, the priest said, "Come, you beast,

There is work to do."

A week went past, until at last

I could take no more;

Down I clambered, to where they chambered,

And rapped upon the door.

'Be gone," he cried -- my eyes went wide --

His voice was laboured, strained;

" 'Leave us be' was my decree,

Ben! Are you addle-brained?"

I stood there shocked -- He never talked

To me that way before --

Their noise and such scared me so much

I pushed open the door.

To my surprise, before my eyes, 

A tableau most unclean:

His face deranged, deeply engaged

In congress most obscene.

"Seduced!" he screamed, as dark eyes gleamed,

And my mouth hung agape,

"Satan's bitch! By God -- a witch!

Please, Ben -- help me escape!"

(Within my ear, something felt queer;

His words somehow askew--.

But young and naive, I chose to believe,

Because he told me to.

Meanwhile the child, disheveled and wild,

Laid draped in a sheet,

She ne'er appeared as to be feared, 

Nor did she cry or bleat.)

Took Tucker's hand (not far from land)

And helped him self-compose,

He spoke to me most secretly,

While he put on his clothes.

"Be warned my friend -- we'll meet our end!"

He whispered, hands ashake.)

"We mustn't dally. The crew we'll rally,

And burn her at the stake."

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Sonnet - Undertow

Into blissful kiss we both submerge,

Seized by passion's current, swept away,

Galvanized by pleasure's pow'rful surge,

Bodies coil and twist in carnal fray.

Gliding 'gainst each other, dripping sweat,

Immersed in molten want and rising steam,

Every nerve alive and keenly whet, 

Every moment here a perfect dream.

Higher still, on summit closing in,

Moaning, gritting teeth as bodies flail,

Blasting off together in our sin,

Riding our climax's vapour trail.

Panting, breathing in the afterglow, 

Swept up in our passion's undertow. 

---- 

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Compatible Monsters - 6

She slides the BLOOD-soaked keys without a word,

Ignores the swinging door's BLOOD-curdling hinge,

Sees her work in each BLOODy detail,

The smell of BLOOD alive inside her nose,

Hypnotizing, BLOODy deafening,

Charles's BLOOD and viscera everywhere -- 

Her body's soaked in BLOOD from head to toe,

She's trembling like a leaf, her eyes BLOODshot

BLOOD runs down her arms, drips to the floor,

Gnarled and BLOOD-soaked hands lift to her mouth;

Eating his organs, chunk by BLOODy chunk,
Warm BLOOD trickling slowly down her chin.

She doesn't quite DIGEST the scene at first,

Panic GNAWs, a brood of starving rats,

A million bees DEVOUR her reason,

His blood like acid, FEASTing on her skin, 

EATing away every conscious thought,

As she LICKs her fingers, absently;

It takes a bit for her to DRINK it in

(The need to FEED so very powerful)

Amidst the frantic bees and CHEWing rats,

She sees each fingernail honed to a CLAW,

Caked with SHREDded flesh and clumps of hair,

A HOWL of desperation in her throat.

She's terrified, but SWALLOWs that, for now,

She bares her TEETH and takes a momen't breath,

Another SCENT is lingering on the air;

The smell of DANGER very close. No sound--

--Her senses sharp, alerted to the THREAT;

A KILLer leans in the open doorway,

His eyes upon her, beady and CUNNING,

How SILENT his approach -- no footsteps heard, 

And SWIFT his mind and body. "You planned this,"

She mutters without looking, voice a SNARL.

"I ought to SLASH your throat for using me,

But that sick prick deserved to SUFFER more.

I am not a MONSTER you command;

Try that again, it's your DEATH. Understand?"

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Trial of the Lilithite - 1

We paid our scrips, and boarded ships

To America's eastern shore,

Six hundred head, by Good Book led,

Though sickness took twelve more.

Our holy man, he kept our clan

In service to the Lord,

Our souls were clean, except (unseen)

The stowaway on board.

A Gypsy girl, her hair a-curl,

Hid in the cargo hold,

Weeks deprived, yet she survived

The rain, and waves, and cold.

A mere sixteen she must have been,

Though lovely was her form;

Eventually, she came to me

P'raps frightened by the storm.

In foreign tongues, with coughing lungs

She begged us for our help,

But Reverend Tucker said "No succor,

For a thieving Gypsy whelp!"

He shut the door, and took the floor,

Said, "This girl's not our kin,

And if the crew should see her too,

Their souls will turn to sin.

I must take this little rake,

Confine her in my room,

And civilize (or exorcise),

Lest she call forth our doom."

I said, "Yae, wild, but still a child,

Lost, and steeped in fear.

What harm would pass, to let the lass

Earn her passage here?"

"Thou art wise, but I see your eyes,

Poring o'er her curves;

I trust in you, but not the crew;

They don't need rattled nerves."

I did relent, and out they went;

I knew she'd be protected,

But what transpired once they retired,

Not even he expected.

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

My Juliet - Epilogue

Sitting in the back of the cafe,

Sipping on a cup of chamomile,

A crimson sea of endless curly hair,

And emerald eyes above the slightest smile.

Pencil skirt with blazer (midnight black),

Slender, perfect legs (no pantyhose),

The perfect inner arch of lower back,

And glasses perched upon her freckled nose.

Poring o'er the laptop's glowing screen,

She glances at the man across the room;

His eyes intense, but with a playful sheen

(Shy redness in her cheeks begins to bloom).

"Madam, I would ask, if thou be able,

Wouldst thou take a seat here, at my table?

--FIN--

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

My Juliet - 5 : 15

Oe'er and o'er he reads her final note,

Hot tears trickle down his stubbled cheeks;

Bittersweet, each loving word she wrote, 

Memories to keep him set for weeks.

He weeps for her, and for their memories,

So grateful for the details she's amassed --

It helps his aching heart to finally ease, 

And pacify the demons of his past. 

Eventually he looks upon his days

With anticipation, not chagrin;

Emerges from depression's heavy haze

A Poet, with a new tale to begin. 

With kindness in his eyes, he lifts his pen,

And revisits their Paradise again. 

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

My Juliet - 5 : 14

My Poet - 6

Born in none but fear was my deceit,

My error now exposed with clarity. 

I lie here abandoned in the gloom;

Feel no guilt -- I would have done no less --

Doubtless I have earned this misery. 

Every sting and barb I shall endure,   

For I betrayed thee, love. I'd be livid,

Perhaps unable, even, to forgive...

But be not confused  -- this is my Hell;

There exists no penance so severe

As to dwarf the fear and guilt I bear,

And the horror of the coming doom.

I fade, Poet. My time grows e'er short.

Please know: utterly have I loved thee,

Never hath I felt such heat before. 

My utmost hath been given to perform

My duty as thy Muse admirably,

Ne'er a day hath past which I regret;

Even through the guilt and pain I bore,

My happiness hath ne'er been more intense

Than any single moment in thy arms.

Pure and without end, my love for thee;

A privilege was my service to thee, love;

In endless gratitude shall I depart.

Yet I would ask one final task of thee:

Every part of us rests in thy hands;

Each perfect moment, lovingly preserved,

In as much detail as I recall.

Use it, Poet -- weild the quill once more,

Write the book that lingers in thy head.

Immortalize me as thee hath before, 

And in the writing, thy true self embrace:

Sensuality - passion made flesh. 

Take all we had made, and give it breath.

Step into the 'you' who won my heart, 

And in my name, live most passionately. 

I'm sorry that this has to be the end,

But only mine. Farewell, my dearest friend. 

- Juliet

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015

My Juliet - 5 : 13

My Poet - 5

My heart-- t'were thine, sweet Poet, even then;

Our love notes wove the gossamer of my dreams,

Water to my thirst, our paradise.

The Fates hath shown me none but suffering,

Yet Poet, thou hath given none but bliss. 

In worst of storms, my lifeline didst thou cast.

T'was safety found, and trust placed in thy hands. 

Not a whit of my love was pretense,

Unchanged in manner or intensity.

My 'final' note wore first taint of deceipt;

I claimed a fearful heart, but nay. The truth:

Of my illness I had just been told. 

Ne'er before hath my sobs fell so hard;

No task so daunting had I undertook,

Allowing common sense to persevere...

My heart lay shattered, my chest hollow,

Yet to bear thine eyes upon me now,

To have thee see the wretch I would become...

...Thy presence at my door, it gave me pause.

Moving on was forefront then, my love;

Our passion thus a perfect memory, 

Froze in time, a fantasy preserved.

Thou couldst think of me as only bliss,

And of my suffering be unaware. 

Yet there stood thee, before my widened eyes,

A torrent of emotion overcame;

My only wish to be in thine embrace,

Though the truth lurked e'er haunting me. 

O Poet-- would that I could use your quill!

Countless nights spent struggling with the words.

And all the while, such pow'r thou gave to me,

To know within thine eyes I bear no stain. 

Stronger still did my denial grow,

For tempting thine escape had always been.

Yet just as hearts tell tales beneath the floor,

Deafening, my truth's noise had become.

Please, let not my terror earn thy hate;

For so ignored was treatment, till too late.

- Juliet.

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

My Juliet - 5 : 12

My Poet - 4 

"Thy words, darling -- warm honey 'pon my tongue, 

Charmed I was, as if in a glamour.

Thy deftness of quill hath woven thee

Of far superior cloth than callers past;

T'was thy love of craft what won my eye --

A love I coveted, I doth confess. 

Pained was I, in sending you my note;

Near to dawn, each word twice rewrit,

Plagued by nerves. What if I looked the fool,

One salutation, among countless more?

Yet none could beam so very joyfully

As I did, at reading thy reply. 

T'was as if pulled into a magic place;

What paradise-- what Eden we had made! 

Heaven never so aptly defined,

Celestial did I feel, within it.

Knew then, I did, to whom my bliss belonged. 

Within are notes I have for thee prepared;

Each of our dialogues saved, transcribed

And recorded in each precious detail,

Every piece of us, in every form. 

Remember me this way, I beg of thee!

I would not be memorialized

As infected with this ruthless plague!

  

So beautiful, our place -- it freed my soul.

To place my trust in thee so thoroughly -- 

To have thee, with thy words, pluck of my fruit --

No greater pleasure 'neath the risen sun,

Than to have been chosen as thy muse.

Thy words awoke a furnace deep within;

'Twixt mine aching breast and melting thighs

Such realms of ecstasy I never knew. 

From our first parlay, I burned for thee;

Every part of me was yours to tend,

And I would serve thy every lustful whim.

Thine utterly was I, even then. 

For thee did I so completely fall,

But soon would I receive the fateful call.

- Juliet."

----

 

Sonnet - Mermaids

I approached the water for a drink,

Gazed at my reflection for a spell, 

Lost my balance, splashed into the drink;

Awakened in the place where mermaids dwell.

So beautiful, these creatures -- such allure,

The way they danced and played among the reeds!

T'was nearly too much for me to endure,

Such perfect curves -- they gave my body needs.

Of course, I knew I'd soon be out of air;

To the surface I'd make my return,

It seemed they didn't mind me being there,

And watched me leave with ne'er a tic's concern.

I do return there, hoping now and then

To catch the mermaids' beauty once again.

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

My Juliet - 5 : 11

My Poet - 3

His bloodshot eyes stared, panicked, up at me.

Few be those who could emerge unstained,

Or e'er equipped to trust another soul,

Yet sweet relief empowered me just then.

With narry a peep, I watched him die

(No goodbyes for those who deal in pain),

And back inside did I return,

Emerging with a wooden baseball bat.

Crying, Mother pleaded, "Stay your hand!

No wish had I for you to endure him; 

His threats and curses had me trapped in fear, 

A wretch I be, but I feared pain and death!"

"Then hurt and die!!" I screamed, raising the bat.

"You hid, and all the while, you surely knew.

Ignored our cries, hid in your bottles,

And let us be his perverse playground. Hag! 

Thou hast earned thy share of agony, 

But not from me, for I am not that man. 

Worse than what he did, your inaction;

Your joy cost both your babies' innocence."

To my sister I then turned, and said,

Take the bat from out my trembling hands;

Our mother's punishment is thy domain."

I left her there, and ne'er would I return.

Not long afterward did I break down, 

Having watched my father's grisly doom,

Most would struggle to trust e'er again,

But not this girl. My enemy was gone.

I went to school to help kids just like me:

Those wayward souls with ne'er a place to turn,

Who need someone to reassure their minds;

I give them hope -- a thing I never had.

For years did I wait to be truly loved,

But one after another, all had failed

To give me what I craved: Pure, true romance--

Until at last, I found you and your words.

Even at that time, I think I knew

That I'd found something beautiful in you.

- Juliet

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

My Juliet - 5 : 10

"My Poet - 2

Imprisoned by these pills, my mind askew,

Clumsy or confusing my words be.

Apologies, for this letter be long,

And e'er does Death stand grinning at the door. 

Please, a note of patience, my Poet.

Prior to our heart's meeting, harsh was life,

Loneliness and fear took o'er my nights --

The darkest of the tale remains untold;

Thou knowest of my father's appetites,

But only part of this have I disclosed.

My sister and I both endured his sins,

And one last darkened chapter yet remains.

By my dozenth year, his lusts began,  

Though only so far could their urgings go,

At my refusal, Lust was dwarfed by Wrath,

Until my little sister came of age.

The wicked man will justify his deeds, 

However he can think to, as a rule.

I was just a kid -- what could I do?

My mother being privy to his ways,

Turned to drink to soothe her guilt and shame, 

And let him violate her precious girls

Each night for months, with ne'er a spoken word.

(The wicked woman carries her sins too.)

My aim be weak, so killer I am not --

The bullet grazed him, but t'was just enough

For him to know his time to fear had come. 

'Lower my gun right now, little gir--'

'Enough. I cannot listen anymore,'

I muttered, fury boiling in my eyes,

'Should you rise, or step to me, monster,

By thine own gun shall ye be put to dust.'

Walking out, I sensed his rage, like steam,

And turned to see him coming like a train;

I screamed, then heard a shot crack through the air,

And watched his lifeless body hit the ground.

Behind him, leaning weakly 'gainst the door,

Was Mother with the smoking gun. 'No more.'

- Juliet."

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

My Juliet - 5 : 9

"My Poet - 1

How wretched you must feel, so all alone,

Confused and empty, as I was at first.

Death is such a monster, dark and cold,

Yet something which this muse no longer fears. 

Know that this was not by my design,

Nor by no wish nor dream of sleep or wake.

Would that I could hold thee in mine arms,

Stroke your hair and kiss your stubbled cheeks,

And in the warmth of us, find peace at last;

Yet loveless be the Fates, it would appear. 

My heart weeps for how miserable they are.

I implore thee, Poet-- know of everything;

Each moment of this nightmarish ordeal,

Beginning on the day my fate was sealed.

No changes to my status as a fiend --

I surely have betrayed thee. I know this.

Seeking not to undermine thy pain,

Nor justify dishonesty, my love...

My goal be simple: help thee to accept

Thy muse's state of mind, from start to end,

Mayhaps find forgiveness in thy soul,

And see me not as in thy fantasies,

But as a person, sick and terrified.

I leaveth thee such things, not to imbue

A broken soul with yet more agony,

But to provide thee all that you require

To grant thy Juliet her final wish:

Compassion, and a very patient heart

(The medicine they give me brings a fog;

And other things lacking in dignity.

I write as much as I can, when I can,

And take advantage of lucidity,

Please, my love, read right through to the end,

Know that I have loved you all my life,

And that I hope we meet again someday.

Heavy are these thoughts upon my chest,

But now I need to lie down, try to rest.

- Juliet."

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015. 

My Juliet; 5 : 7

There's virtue found in scrubbing off the dirt --

A cleansing of the spirit, so to speak;

Catharsis hides beneath the pain and hurt,

More clarity in every shine and squeak.

He knows the box is there, and what awaits: 

Her clothes, her shoes, some personal affects;

Poet, being scared, procrastinates,

Though unsure why. What is it he expects?

'It's just a cardboard box, you silly twit.

You're surrounded by her stuff here anyhow.

Avoiding it has zero benefit;

Best to get it done with, here and now.'

A moment's pang of longing for his lover,

As gingerly, he lifts the box's cover. 

----

5 : 8

The running outfit worn the day she fell, 

Her shoes (well used), some books and toiletries,

Her contacts in their little plastic shell, 

A player full of popstar mp3s.

'How easily a life fits in a box,'

He muses with her memory in his heart,

Each thing a piece of her (before the pox),

But at the bottom comes the hardest part:

Her phone, where sticks a note from yellow pad,

Four digits only: 7 6 3 8

(That's 'POET' on the cell phone's number pad),

He taps each digit in, too stunned to wait...

The phone illuminates, and on the screen

Is something that our Poet's never seen. 

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Sonnet - Breath

Dead of night. The sprawling city sleeps,

The only sounds my ever-aching bones;

Pain starts low, then upwardly it creeps, 

Then out my mouth in desperate cries and moans.

Which sin be mine, to earn such agony?

What deed so vile, to earn the Maker's scorn?

What purpose served by life in misery,

So horrid as to wish to ne'er been born?

Of course no answer comes. What would suffice?

That suffering is a part of Life's design,

Or that there be some painless Paradise?

If that be all, then why not jump the line?

Speak not of that. No victory in death;

A protest, then, in every weary breath.

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Slippery

My god-- oh my god...

Right there, darling... just like that.

Yes, love... there we go...

God, I love your skin.

Slithering against me... yes...

Hot and slippery...

Take hold of my wrists.

Pin them both above my head.

Good, now… nice and slow.

Up... and down. Good girl.

You and I fit perfectly,

Wouldn't you agree?

God, you're beautiful.

I could watch you move like this

All the goddamn time.

Little faster now...

Yes-- oh god! Those fingernails,

And your perfect moans...

Faster, love. Harder!

Slam your body down on me,

As hard as you can!

Yes! So close, baby

I can't do this on my own--

Come with me, love... please...

Here it comes, darling-- 

Grip me tight... Yes! Don't let go.

Don't you fucking dare...

My god-- oh my god...

Right there, darling... just like that.

Yes, love... there we go...

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.