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Monday, 21 December 2009


Oh flesh soft and tender
white as a winter's offering,
cold as the snow that hardens the Earth's crust
auburn strands twist, beaded with silver
frames a face so fair, lips paled by Frost's kiss.
Head adorned with a crown of thorns and curling petals,
eyes spill innocence, stone grey but sparkling
a blackened tear leaks..

Strength in those features, alight in the flame's warm glow
but still the curvature of the cheeks, the body
handle with care.
The dress that clings, a heavy heart beat drumming through
breath catches with fear, her chest hovers
cotton wrinkles around her thighs, brushes her soft arms
her raised skin tingling with the cool night breeze,
you burn to touch her.

But you must not be fooled!
The mouth too wide hides teeth newly constructed
to tear the flesh from the bone,
to sap life, to squander it in an instant.
She will beckon you and you will chance it
and when fresh blood trickles down her porcelain skin,
you will become the unsuspecting lover
the first skull on the pile.

© Florence Challender 2009

Saturday, 28 November 2009


Rumpled bedsheets, a candle sheds a tear
rose from lover lies on the floor, a saccharin gesture rots
a yellowing novel sits, its words taking seed in her mind.
She whimpers, a solemn sigh escapes
her face a canvas with a flourish of Victorian scandal
jet ribbons snake over every ivory curve,
the night resting heavy on her shoulders.

A silhouette pours through a crack of curtain,
and the dust is lifted
a cloaked figure is poised, sinister with a touch of elegance.
Misplaced, he belongs elsewhere- a graveyard or morgue
he arches his spine and closes in, pushes back the cloth. Revealed!

Pale and emaciated, what dark eyes convey...lust, thirst, hunger
pearly blades, blood stained- a chance mutation?
draws back his coarse, blue lips.
Starved of love after a lifetime of death,
his heart lies in a gutter and drips.

Her eyelids snap and bones tighten
but still sparks of excitement fly,
he beckons her with dexterous fingers which dance along the cotton
and lace.

She pushes air from her chest and turns her head,
too inviting as her neck is pressed.
"Close my eyes to the true ugliness of mine life!" she cries
he penetrates the exterior and dark red leeches from dark red holes
she sighs at the pleasure as she's maimed,
age old and Medieval, thought to cure a victim's pain.
She drinks bad blood, black and viscous...

The infection seeps in, an ancient sickness spreads
tearing nerves like silk thread, rewiring, changing the imprint
and starting anew.
Her heart sinks, defeated.

Burning cravings spawn from a diseased soul
a desire to drink, she licks her lips lustily.
"The living are like clockwork, too mechanical, too human" she thinks
"Now it's the dead's time to reign".

© 2009 Florence Challender

Friday, 9 October 2009


Do you remember when we first met?
A brief encounter, barely an exchanged glance beforehand
I can remember the bite in the air, that familiar stench
I wasn't looking my best, but then, neither were you,
Hung up on nicotine cravings and sleepless nights

I don't know what possessed me, pride or fear?
My heart sank like my feet
I'm sorry.

Decades passed and I still can't rinse away the shame
It stays locked in the drawer,
The one with the strong whisky and dusty sepia photgraphs.
My mind plays it over and over, like an old reel of film
flickering behind my eyes.

I will not hesitate, as we sit back to back so my eyes do not
meet with your stony expression.
I am about to meet a fate less heroic than yours
I am deteriorating fast,
Each breath is becoming more laboured
Years on the pipe to ease my nerves

I want to sit a while, absorb the view
Perhaps my last chance before I am clamouring on Hell's door.
Do you remember when we first met?
Because I remember it like yesterday

© 2009 Florence Challender

Saturday, 25 July 2009

17 (Acedia)

Sloth's stranglehold
a curse and a crutch.
It is a vision of life through a mud speckled monocle.
Pandora's box unveiled.
Dark-winged parasites take refuge in my head
but to stimulate my apathy,
is to place me in the ground.
Inside my monster, robbed of its soul
lies a sleeping clown.

© 2009 Florence Challender


Your love, you said
was fatal
it engulfed its recipients,
sucked them in.
Your passion, you said
was furious
a tempest,
with static electric fingertips.
Your lust, you said
was intoxicating
the dependable trickster
left them in ruins.
My lust, I said
was bottle bred
my passion, I said
was momentary.
But my love, I said
was you

© 2009 Florence Challender

Monday, 8 June 2009


Instinctively my fingers are outstretched,
poised to touch the rosiest apple
to tear the fruit from the loom
to feed my appetite for curiosity.
I take,
I eat.
It's flesh is bittersweet
it's bite tastes of my decay
the liquor of knowledge, a thorough depressant
trickles from my tainted lips.
My sin falls from my hand
and lies on Eden's jewelled floor
Oh I am awash with gluttonous guilt
stolen innocence,
now I am living on borrowed evil.

© 2009 Florence Challender

Wednesday, 27 May 2009


Tearing off the flesh to find,
a hidden beauty lurks inside.
Finding peace in my natural state
won't let my skeleton go to waste.
Your laws of beauty cost their lives
reason dies but aesthetics survive.
You call it fashion I call it crime
if this looks good,
then the world is blind.
How many tears to wash away
the stains I wear from yesterday?
I hunger after one throbbing desire
a phantom body draped in attire.
Your laws of beauty cost their lives,
reason dies but aesthetics survive
How many days 'til you erase
the very bodies
that shot them to fame?

© 2009 Florence Challender

Sunday, 3 May 2009


Crimson is seeping into her cheeks,
her crown of flames licks at her face.
She watches the siren, she aches "How she
speaks with such ease, how men fall at her feet
her moves are hypnotic, but her smile speaks of sin
and he's mine!"
Her topaz eyes flicker, dissolve into lime
she can taste the bitterness in her words
as she contemplates the crime
she can feel the hot, red rapids hurtling through her veins
Choking on her eagerness to spit her acidic words
reeling as her nerves are racked, her spine shakes
Her predatory string goes with a snap, "How I
slink with such ease, how prey fall at my feet
my eyes are hypnotic, my lips tingle with sin
and he's mine!"
She marks Cupid's demise as the arrow strikes
with a skillful slice through the air,
to lacerate the flesh of the unsuspecting target
and bring her to a sanguine end
As the room fills with hushed words of the carmine
she looks at the lifeless corpse
and a single blistering tear falls from her eye

© 2009 Florence Challender


Sunlight dances on her ivory skin,
so smooth and cool to the touch
hair so thick and wavy,
a crown in all its glory.
Eyes so perfectly shaped
the gleam that never leaves them,
a body weaving in and out
one he can truly hold onto.
Limbs so long,
lips so strong
pursed, they ache to sing.
Features sculpted without fault
beauty immune to fading
grace which withstands
the gusts that glide over
the gold crested leaves.
She's an angel,
he can see her outstretched wings
stood beneath the shedding trees.
"It's such a shame," he thinks,
"that I fell in love with one
which cannot fall as well."

How she longs to reach out,
crack the case that is her grave
embrace the lust which calls from her
rusty vessels,
and feel a fire that knows no bounds.
Lull him with soothing words,
which will tumble from the carved mouth
that teases her.
Stroke the auburn hair which bounces
so freely,
gaze into the emerald eyes which shine
so readily,
and touch the flesh that wears the scars
of life.
"Alas!" she cries,
"what is my beauty if it
can't win me a man?
I'm locked in a mere existence,
a standstill stance."

© 2009 Florence Challender


Each pair of apathetic eyes is a slash to the soul,
nothing stirs inside these stone hearted statues
but another hit and this boy's spirit is slain
a victim of everything, whose efforts are in vain.
They make a mockery of him,
their mouths are spitting fire
he tries to reason, they won't relent
for evil doesn't tire.
As he lies upon the ground
with seeping wounds and weeping eyes
he longs to protest, to bring fury and flame
his rage is soft, a mere creeping cry
but he feels a torrent of anger gradually arise.
This emotion is destructive, if he could harness
its might and its power..
the audience will not leave this show unscathed,
their terrible taunting has left him enraged.
He brought a storm which tore through the night
corrosive acids which fall from the heavens,
a ravenous wolf and a venomous viper
children led to their death by the devil's piper.
He makes a mockery of them,
his sky is spitting fire
they try to reason, he won't relent
for justice doesn't tire.

© 2009 Florence Challender

10 (Invidia)

Oh envy, your dissatisfaction chokes me alive
I covet for that which does not exist
for true love and ultimate truth
and a sense of belonging in an unfamiliar world.
The object of my desire is the apple of anothers' eye
but in a world of idealistic expectations
surely I am not to blame for my malcontentment?
It's not a case of great ungratefulness
which blights this barren life,
for I am an inadequate being
and not only in their eyes.

© 2009 Florence Challender


I have memories which drift among the debris,
and painful realisations I cannot shift
I have guilt pangs which cause so much nocturnal
I have regrets which eat up every accomplishment,
I have wistful fancies that keep me blindly optimistic
and a realist that keeps me not grounded,
but underground.
I have terms I'm reluctant to come to
and dreams which have morphed into delusions,
that I like to escape into..
I have wars I could win with an axe through one eye
and wars I lost before the other side even tried.
I have nagging doubts which choose to resurface
and hatred that runs so deep
my wrath whimpers to be unleashed,
I'm in pursuit of vengeance
and Thor is no match for my thunder..

© 2009 Florence Challender


Oh bleeding heart,
each droplet of love wasted
stupidly frivolous was I.
I lie in this filth
I whisper to the wind,
of love and loss and loneliness.
I crumple into the earth,
a bed I share with no man
a forgotten soul bound to the soil.
My descent into the ground
my tears as they cascade down
marked by this tender flower.
A representation of my bleeding, seething heart
it pushes its head through the dust and the ash
poised towards the sunlight,
it sways in the wind
whispers perhaps?
Of love and loss and loneliness.
It is no longer worn upon my sleeve
but in all its frangibility,
it is just as easily torn..

© 2009 Florence Challender

7 (Persephone)

This blessed fruit
that binds us together,
each seed which leads
me into your embrace.
Heaven and the underworld intertwined,
months of melancholia as I pined
I no longer mourn
during my midwinter,
when the first snowdrop
peeps its head prematurely.
I have been reunited
with my love..
in darkness,
I rejoice.

© 2009 Florence Challender


It's less of the furnace
more of the fire
it's less of the casket,
more of the liar.
It's less of the poison
more of the drink
it's less of the torture,
but you're made to think.
It's less of the snake pit
more of the black hole
it's less of the cage,
but you still have no control.
It's less of the eternal
but it drags on nonetheless
it's none of the answers,
they're still left unguessed.
It's less of the freezing water
but tears are free to fall..
it's less of the wrathful,
more of common brawl.
It's less of the crimson
more of the bleakness
it's less of the sin,
more of the weakness.

© 2009 Florence Challender


Winding path I walk
familiar and paved with mistakes.
Shadows form at my feet
I denounce the whistling winds,
rippling waters
pallid skies
On my quest to find heaven,
on my quest to conquer hell
contemplating the meaning behind
this seemingly pointless stretch of time.
There must be a prize, a compensation perhaps?
for trawling through, for endurance
Little do we know,
heaven only lies in the eyes of the satisfied
and hell is the inquisitive, demanding nature
the human nature,
deep rooted within us all.

© 2009 Florence Challender


Vague shadow,
echo of a glimmer
the frailty of your shimmer.
Rests beneath my weary heart
penetrates it like a heavy dart
unwelcome reminder,
buried memory reviver
strife and sorrow provider..
Will you not leave me alone?

© 2009 Florence Challender


The truth is circulating but she refuses to believe,
the anguish she will conquer, but she will not grieve
hangs onto her denial in desperation
contorts what she knows in her heart in exasperation.
Her love is gone,
"But not for long"
she cries,
the sky replies.

© 2009 Florence Challender

2 (Luxuria)

Raging lust tearing through my bones,
gushing in my veins and drumming in my head
tingling in my fingers and blazing in my eyes,
occupying my mind.
These aren't butterflies but bats..
the longing which refuses to subside
it's clawing at me, the silent screams are
seeping out and I surrender to this love.
I am too fragile to keep away, too jaded to try
this torture is my lifeline, this curse is my sin.
My sin is wanting you, needing you, loving you
feel it coiling around me, squeezing tighter
only you can release me from my chains
only I can release you..

© 2009 Florence Challender

1 (The Rose)

Her lustrous charcoal hair falls thick around her shoulders,
her skin like marble as he traces her profile and she looks
to the moon laughing, laughing..
her skirt flowing, her smile so full of life, so alluring
and he presses a single black rose into her hand,
and its single dew drop sparkles in the starlight
and it reminds him of her.
But it is a parting gift for he must go, for he can feel
it sapping him of his strength but she mustn't know.
He cannot bear to bring her bleakness
and he sees his aggressive consumer as a weakness.
She does not know that he is leaving, he bids goodbye
but she's not grieving, she doesn't know.
She's left waiting, waiting..
the rose is wilting, wilting..
But her lustrous charcoal hair falls thick around her shoulders,
her skin like marble as she traces her profile and she looks
to the moon weeping, weeping..
her skirt flowing, her eyes so full of anguish, so alluring
and she strokes the withering black rose in her hand,
and its single dew drop sparkles in the starlight
and it reminds her of him.

© 2009 Florence Challender

Here are some other sites(not mine) you may like to visit:
Gothic - A deep and varied portal dedicate to the dark life of the gothic subculture, fashion, music, dating, poems, tourism, culture and poems.