The Room of Shadows

An eerie silence descends upon, every graveyard and burial ground A distant church striking midnight, Is the only living sound The stillness of the nighttime air, slowly fills with impending doom As a mask of cloud rolls across the sky, to blot out the blood red moon. A cloak of mist creeps through crumbling walls, to carpet the graveyard floor To encircle the disused chapels, and block up their rotting doors It swirls around forgotten tombs, with obliterated names While night shadows flit and dance between, the unattended graves Cold chill of death is all around, carried on the wings of hate As an unseen hand forces open the rusty cemetery gates Burning resentment of the living, that's aimed at all mankind Feeds the anguish of the long dead souls, lying in the ground The time has come, the time is here, the entire world will see The gates of hell have opened, Satan now walks free The forgotten army lie beneath the earth, Await his siren call The voice from within the deepest realm, heard by one and all Gravestones tilt and shudder, And slip below the ground Marble pillars that have stood for years, topple and come crashing down Sealed tombs gape wide open, to lay bare the corpse inside At the order of their master, they open their sightless eyes The time has come, the time is here, the entire world will see The gates of hell have opened, Satan now walks free Forgotten army lie beneath the earth, have answered the Clarion call The being from within the deepest realm, he leads them one and all. As one they strive to move dead limbs, to walk the earth once more Soldiers of the past are called to arms, awakens them as before Driven on by fake memory, of injustice and the pain A rotting hand breaks through the earth, To clutch the sky again

If you would sit within a darkened room With a candle to one side Look hard into the mirror And just focus on your eyes As you sink deeper into your soul Your outline will slowly fade To be replaced by a devils mask Or the portrait of Dorian Gray As you stare into the parallel world What do you really see? The reflection looking back at you Is not the face that used to be? The years have passed so swiftly Like a flash across the skies The countenance of youth has gone Or perhaps the mirror lies? What demon lurks within its depths? Or just a face you wish to hide Maybe you've passed beyond the glass To view from the other side Don't wait till the clock strikes midnight Or you will open up a door And loose the demons that what lies within That could touch your very soul Don't wait until the witching hour Marks the end of another day Or you will unleash the dark forces And the curse of Dorian Gray Are you seeing what lies in store? When time has had its way Or are you seeing what really is Like the portrait of Dorian Gray

Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 26, 2025

From the depths of the vaults, the shadows slowly rise, and peer at the world, with unseeing eyes They crouch; they crawl, on bleach-white bones, glistening through their ragged clothes Figures with grotesque limbs distorted, that reach out and touch each passing soul The orchestra of death playing for the reaper, To herald in his clarion call They're the living dead summoned by the dying to lead them to the Danse Macabre. Who has awakened them, from eternal rest, and who are they calling, to the dance of death Who will follow, the Danse Macabre, rich or poor, wife or child The cloaked figure of death with his scythe has chosen, for only the dying can join the dance Only the dying can follow the dancers, only they can join the funeral march In the dark streets they gather, the dying together, and then they'll dance the Danse Macabre Follow us, follow the dancers, leave this world of pain and strife Follow us and end the suffering, we'll take you to a better life Leave the living, follow the dancers, and join us in this one last dance Leave the living, follow the music, and we'll all dance the Danse Macabre Open cemetery gates beckon, the dancing dead, and swirling mist welcomes, the funeral cortege The vaults gape wide open, as the figures draw near, the pathway to hell, has led them here Escorting dancers spin and stagger, grotesque figures in Death's stage show Their movements quicken as the tempo increases as faster and faster the rhythm grows Music composed in the depths of hell, by the players of the Danse Macabre Follow us and end the suffering, we'll take you to a better life Leave the living, follow the dancers, and join us in this one last dance Leave the living, follow the music, and we'll all dance the Danse Macabre No crowd to cheer the dead and the dying, no one to hear their mournful crying One by one they dance out of the night, out of life and out of sight Dancers usher the dying forward, ever onward and all in line Echoes of the past surround them, as they fade back into the mistas of time As the vaults doors slowly close behind them to the final strains of The Danse Macabre

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025

Lengthening shadows, mark the end of another day And then enters into a twilight world, where the Vampire hold sway Dusk falls like a curtain, to welcome in the night And the rising moon beckons them again To join in the dance of death Awakening figures, in answer to the call Resplendent in all their finery, as they file into the hall The mirror holds no reflection, of this entourage of dead And the dust lays undisturbed, on the floor To bear no witness to the dance of death Crinoline dresses and brocade coats of gold Minuet in the candle light, as the grandeur unfolds Down through many centuries, they've learned their steps so well To move and sway so gracefully, to the orchestra from hell To the strains of the dance of death To feed upon the living, is their object and desire And they care not for the material things of life The dance is just a prelude, a matinee before the morn As they scatter to the four winds, to return before the dawn They don't see the cobweb portals, where time has passed them by Or the rat-infested catacombs, of the vaults where they lie The dance is just a prelude, a matinee before the morn As they scatter to the four winds, to return before the dawn

Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 26, 2025

The child's laughter ceased As he tiptoed by That dreaded open door With a cursory glance into its depths, as if to reassure He never really understood, what first made him hate that room But childish intuition knew, something lurked within its gloom He knew the room held many things, that came from long ago But why they were kept within that room, a child of eight wouldn't know He sensed a dark force that dwelt within, that watched his every move Hidden deep within the shadowy bowels, of that accursed room It took every bit of courage, to retrieve that bouncing ball That always rolled into that room, when he was playing in the hall Sheer terror would grip the child's heart, if he found himself alone And a glimpse of a fleeting figure, would turn his legs to stone He would lay a salt trail all around the room, for why he never knew But a voice from deep within him, told him exactly what to do Adults seem quite unaware, of the demon that waits inside And laugh at his reluctance, to cross that threshold line The adults lost their perception of, the truth only a child can see The price we pay for material gain, the price for material greed The years have passed and the memories dim The child is now full grown Still living in the family house With young children of his own His sights are now firmly set upon The furthering of his life Aided and abetted, by a materialistic wife But his eldest son, has a morbid fear Of the antiques room off the hall And he keeps leaving a trail of salt along The room's perimeter wall

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025

Through fog-filled streets and alleys, where fantails walk the night A cloaked figure waits and watches, from beyond the dim gas light What dark reason lies behind the veil, and drives him on to kill These petticoats have no valuables, there's nothing for him to steal So why the senseless slaughter, of the ones they deem so low It's certainly not for monetary gain, so perhaps it's what they know Dank air glistens on blackened tenement walls, the hovels of the poor Where poverty is a way of life, behind every bolted door From such homes these wretches came, and are forced to walk the streets To eke a living in its most basic form, with every stranger that they meet So why the needless slaughter, Of the ones they deem so low It can't be for any other reason, it must be what they know. The need to exist will drive them out, from behind their own locked doors To venture forth into the night, to work the streets as whores For them there is no future, no reason for them to be And the momentary glimpse of a flashing blade, is the last thing they will see In death there needs to be some pride, even for those deemed so low Not lie disembowelled in a filthy street, just for what they know. So who will be the scapegoat, who will take the blame When the compass and the setsquare, rears its head again. Who will they use to hide the truth, and avert the public's gaze From the intrigue that in reality, Lies behind the political maze Albert Victor's name is whispered, from behind the crumbling walls That the princes bastard offspring, will be the next to rule A Catholic heir in waiting, first in line to the throne A situation that could not exist, and couldn't be condoned Was this the knowledge shared by the ones, who people deemed so low Perhaps this is what the secret is, perhaps this is what they know Does the ripper still exist today, but in a different form To carry out the subversive acts, to protect these royal born Who is it that hides behind the cloak, this friend without a face And how many of his victims, will disappear without a trace How many more will meet the fate, of the ones they deem so low And how many more will have to die, because of what they know So who will be the scapegoat, who will take the blame When the compass and the setsquare, rears its head again.

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 26, 2025

Cascading leaves of gold and russet brown Like my life's descending spiral floating down The sylvan setting mirror in my soul Passion only for the silver and gold It seems like a thousand years Since I let you go In a world so full of greed I didn't know But now I'm on death's door we'll be together And I'll be with you then and after forever

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025