Jack: A Poem From The Darkened Tales Series That Tells The Real Story Of Jack The Ripper

Jack

The sound of heel on cobbled stone

That stalked the streets of yesteryear

As sewage flowed with soiled dreams

Jack would walk bereft of fear

His mind was caged and wrought with grief

As pain destroyed his inner eye

And cancers crept and clawed his soul

A lovers voice that hushed goodbye

A nothing moon that held no light

On darkened paths and brick red walls

And staggered coves would leave their slums

To rest in doors amongst the gloom

No bells would ring in East End homes

As night would fester cold and smog

And as his heels clicked on the stones

The hooves of carriages would trot

And on this night he saw her there

As charm would ‘tice a drunken Lord

Who’s sword was stiff between her thighs

Whilst shillings lined her wayward hoard

But in the dark on hidden streets

The stench that reared on soiled paths

Jack lay down his leather bag

And drew the tools that played their part

And as the Lord would hasten thrusts

Her teeth bit deep on glistened vein

And then the whites within her eyes

Would roll as blood was left to drain

And as he pulsed between her legs

She drank the life he clung on to

But from the shadows Jack would walk

And drive his stake so hard and true

The night was filled with eerie screams

As Lord fell hard and wrestled free

He turned and fled beyond the street

As Jack knelt down on bended knee

And with his skill he’d cut & slash

To take a heart of hardened stone

That led a path to darkened graves

For him to walk once more alone

by Pete Marshall

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Image courtesy of walraven @ flickr