The Romance Of Death

The Romance Of Death

by Charles E S Fairey


Laudanum fumes with Coleridge

Our tomes are dark sacrilege,

Poe and the drinking den Ravens

Sat amongst the tombs graven cravens,

Milton and our Paradise Lost

The soul sold for oblivion’s cost,

Shelley and her reanimated dead

Upon debauched Dorian we’ve fed,

The Starry Night of swirly minded Gogh’s

Wormwooded absinth overflows,

Whether paper and inks or canvas and paints

Us dark Romantics are no virtuous saints,

Please Pass the mind altering intoxicants

Love The Muse of mighty hierophants,

Mephistopheles and the serpent tangents

Salivated orgies and vain establishments,

The ghosts of what we were haunts

But our hearts crave twisted jaunts,

For our dark souls no matter the true cost

Inspired and wickedly gifted our souls lost,

Remembered by all contracted to repeat our masterpiece

For Dark Wonders never fail and never really cease,

To grab the gothic heart of human minds

For the Romance of Death truly shines!


Famous Jack and his legionary rippers grow

Whitechapel’s ghosts gin and nightly ladies glow,

Modern Burton and his All Hallows every Christ mass

Dark Shadows Depp and his allure to every lass,

Like Stoker and hypnotising Vampire

We all love our heartfelt dark desire,

Edvard Munch and his expressing Scream

But have you felt the ghost’s caressing dream?

Awoken watered with sweetly sweat?

Even though the shadows juices let?

The mad and the bad Marquis de Sade

Doesn’t Lord Byron deal your every card,

No matter the artist be Mephistopheles Bard

The reflection doesn’t shine in the mirror’s shard,

Only the darkness stares back to wishful eye

For the Romance of Death desires never die.


The Coming Doom of Edward Bulwer-Lytton

The fascination of dark future’s hidden yet written,

The Rosicrucian Shelley’s alchemical obsession

Now take the bloodied waters of Geneva’s poison,

The madness of Hanoverian zoo like asylums

The Lords, the Ladies and the Maid’s delusions,

The Theatre of the Blood lusting fiend

If Polidori’s lust had been crowned queen,

Penny Dreadful’s serial fantastic celebrities

The beauty of the Gothic Muse and Mephistopheles,

Reynolds’ soulless Faust and Necromancer

His howling Were-wolf and Wagner,

Hammer Horror emblazoned upon the moving screen

Cushing, Lee and Price Hollywood Dreams,

Karloff, Lugosi, Kinski, Rathbone and Lorre

The fascination of Armageddon and zombie,

Sydow, Nicholson, Hopkins, Pleasance and Chaney

The Business of sold out seats is so so Uncanny,

The Seventh Seal and Ingmar Bergman

The Chess pieces and Master sell sell them,

The lure of the debauched self and money

Everyone wants a belly of milk and honey!

The Bronte’s and lonesome lover Eyre

Lovesick Heathcliff Cathy’s only care,

Upon the bleak Moors the Baskerville Hound

And Signal-Man and Iron thudding wheels round,

Holmes violin strumming opiate fiend of Doyle

Dicken’s Twist and Victorian Revolutions toil,

The Dark Satanic Mills of the Big Smoke’s smog

Mephistopheles clocks and moving work cogs,

Stevenson’s Doctor Jekyll and gruesome Hyde

The grave robbers and unknowing autopsy brides,

The Turning of the torturing ghostly Screw

The Operatic Phantom his inner beauty true,

The eye of the beholder truly hideous

The heart and Romance of Death delirious!

Hitchcock and the brooding resting murder

Psycho and Birds you’ll only scream louder,

King, Herbert, Carpenter, Englund and Maginn

Even the lambs and marbly baa Sheep are Sin,

Polanski and his Johnny Devil and Nine Gates

Queen of the Damned and Cult Goth salivates,

The Ring and its recorded raising from the Well

The Romance of Death certainly sells sells,

Whether now, then, here or ever

Our dark desires with us forever,

Our love of the masters of Horror

For a Penny Dreadful soul ta’ borra’,

The corridors of coffins within the beauty laced

The Muse the Mephistopheles always embraced,

The gruesome and hideous with open eyes faced

The salivating kiss the Devil’s pulsating taste,

The heart beating beneath the oaken boards

Oh what deviant wonder dark hearts adored,

The Lust of Life yet Death and Devil calls

The orgy of hells not God’s heavenly halls,

We are allured by the Dark and Gothic

Our abodes of the dead haunting and terrific,

So Come and ‘Dance with the Dead’ “God Bless yer!”

For you don’t want your Romance with Death to Fester!


Death - The Romantic