SHOCK’s resident poet Nigel Parking conjurs the spirit of 1982’s MADMAN in these shuddery sonnets.
I
There’s a sound folks make when they want to die,
When they’re begging for it. Can’t be ignored.
It sits in my head, a low dull rumble,
Just like it did with my wife and my kids.
It drives me to violence. I can’t help it.
But that’s OK. Really. It’s what they want.
I heard them laughing when I split their heads.
That’s why I went for a beer afterwards.
I knew that all would be well with the world.
No-one else understood at the time but
I know you will. That’s why you’re watching this.
I know you can hear it. It excites you.
And you would have called my name too, I’m sure.
That sound you can hear? It’s coming from you.
II
When I’ve chopped the life out of you, watched you
Bleed, maybe taken your head, I’ll put you
In the cellar with the new family.
A cast of characterless bodies, posed
And arranged by a deranged director.
You get the point? These guys you’re watching are
Pretty much dead already with their stiff
Mannerisms and artificial lines.
There’s no real life here, just sequences of
Slow repeated actions, like a nightmare
Where time stands still…or a circle of hell.
It’s all curiously compelling and strange
But beautiful…like the blood you will spill.
Step into the moonlight. Under my spell.
III
I’m the troll in so many fairy tales.
I lurk under the bridges of your dreams.
Look for me in the trees of your nightmare
Forests or behind the stained and creaking
Doors in the dark house of your subconscious.
When you cross into my world you leave all
Logic behind. Nothing makes sense. You’re drawn
Inexorably, inexplicably,
Towards peril, weakened, entranced, aroused.
Desire and fear have the same rhythms here.
Lovers slowly circling in hot water,
Others slowly searching for lost friends in
Cold moonlight – everyone moving slowly
But surely to a climax, a release.
