Book Of Styx II

Book Of Styx II

by eddy styx


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The "Book Of Styx II" continues the adventures and exploits of eddy styx. "Book II" further examines, in poetry, the life and times of this madman and modern day "Jack the Ripper". He is a friendless loner with murder and mayhem in his heart and soul. Beginning in early childhood, his tree grew bent and twisted. This book takes his fantasies a step further down the road of creatively expressive insanity. Allow your senses to gorge on the vivid descriptions of his various delights and torments.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781467869799
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 01/27/2012
Pages: 248
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.56(d)

Read an Excerpt

Book Of Styx II

By eddy styx


Copyright © 2012 eddy styx
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4678-6979-9

Chapter One

      First Strike

    Roaming the alleys
    I spied a young man
    in his early twenties
    carrying gasoline.
    Noticing the sloshing of the can,
    his furtiveness dragged me after him.
    keeping to the shadows,
    I trailed at a distance,
    moving when he moved.
    He was soon joined
    by a red tabby cat,
    who wound about his legs
    begging for attention.
    I identify with cats
    going about their
    own prowling business.
    Watching from the shadows
    horror gripped my heart.
    Pouring gas on the cat,
    he nimbly lit a match,
    but the cat fled before
    the lit match could land.
    Instinctively I jumped,
    my bare fist landing on jaw;
    he crumpled to the cement.
    Dousing him with the
    remains of liquid in the can,
    I awaited his return
    to the conscious world.
    When I saw him awaken
    his eyes full of terror,
    I dropped a match,
    springing back
    out of harm's way,
    as his body caught fire
    in a violent blaze;
    He lit up the night sky,
    casting his flailing,
    ghastly shadow on the sheds.
    The next day's paper
    told of a suspected arson who died
    accidentally by his own hand.
    A virgin no longer,
    first kill has been made
    for defense of a cat.
    I am, somehow, unsatisfied,
    For I am a cold-hearted killer
    not this thing of unbridled passion.


    All winter my true nature lay
    dreaming among the warm-blooded bodies of
    my many memories,
    waiting for this moment of Spring
    to arrive and revive me with the scent
    of fresh prey.
    Being a creature of many disciplines,
    I have learned to school my emotions
    behind a colorless mask.
    I have my many rules to observe,
    and I am nothing, if not constant.
    I never hunt in the Winter months,
    for there are too many variables
    and frailties of body: a sniffle
    or sneeze will give intent away in
    a heartbeat.
    Snowy footprints would
    destroy my illusion as shadow.
    Still I have been amused by the
    other school of thought; to incorporate
    ice in the art of the kill, because
    the evidence melts.


    I have always found a fragile beauty
    in the subtle deformity when it is present
    in the fairer sex ...
    a slight clubfoot, one breast discernibly
    smaller than the other, or one blue eye
    and the other eye green or brown.
    Often, on a misty Spring night, having
    happened upon such a dainty maiden, I
    will let her go, tipping my hat to her shadow,
    declining to sip from that glass whilst, instead,
    savoring another special bouquet
    of seasoned claret.


    A grey grimace stole across his ashen lips
    as the hour struck twelve and the stalker awakened.
    The desires of those who hunt him await the discovery
    of yet another victim, setting them on the trail, afresh.
    In their secret hearts, he was the continuous pulsation
    of life's blood, causing them to quicken,
    sustaining them with the demanding lusts of his soul.

      Blood Summons

    Garnet beauty issues its liquid invitation,
    sometimes, calling from miles away.
    The summons offers enticement to my inclinations.
    Lust rolls over me like the chaotic advance
    of a lynch mob, intending to overwhelm my senses.
    On the scent, soon I will be fully caught up in its power,
    helpless to break the erotic spell of my lust for blood,
    until unrestrained, I strike again ...

      Dark Moon

    being not fond of moonlight
    when I ply my trade,
    I tend toward the filmy
    veil of shadows and
    the dark moon mysteries.
    my cat-like night vision
    keeps me on target,
    bringing me to your
    irresistible circular stair,
    where I, the candle snuffer,
    will extinguish your fragile flame
    and shed a heartfelt tear,
    as I witness the fading embers
    and the one pure moment
    of created dying art


    Composition by design
    the compost heap
    of Charon's Keep
    heaping guano on the stack.
    A marriage joined
    by fecal matter.
    Entwined decrepitude
    of nature's refuse.
    Composites ...
    Praetorian wing
    echelon fine ...
    ever sinking
    in the stinking
    black hole.
    open mouth
    verbiage spewing ...
    oh the flowing out
    of each and every
    bureaucrat (Divine!)

      Fine Line

    lolling head
    eyes glazing
    droning chant
    volume growing
    unholy issuance
    of sounds inhuman
    crazy twisting
    tortured tongue ...
    face contorting
    body seizing
    spasms rolling ...
    gibberish ranting
    lost in moaning
    trance inducing
    spirit vision
    mind inviting
    channel seeking ...
    thrill of
    spiritual possession
    ritualistically obsessed ...
    rhythmic writhing
    erotically obscene ...
    fouled and felonious
    of Satan ...
    damned to Hell's eternal flame?
    nay ...
    practitioner child
    of Pentecost!


    mallet strikes
    bone splitting blow
    unseeing eyes
    of pain
    vision erupts
    in starburst patterns
    and shards
    of splattered brain
    this headache;

      Lone Mortality

    arrogant dark Rooks cawing
    from their shadowy haven
    come to me unbidden
    black-cloaked in shiny silken death
    I pick up the trail of blood
    carried fresh on the
    intermittent nocturnal breeze
    for one brief moment I am
    powerless beneath fevered shadows
    I am prone and pinned
    to secret prophecies ...
    intolerable and unforgiving!


    in the bright noonday sun
    her hair was the color
    of creamy golden caramel
    tilting her head to peer up at me
    long lashes lacing each other
    on her peach-blushing cheek
    just dusting her captivating skin
    she looked good enough to eat
    (so I bit her ...)


    for too long now
    have I lived with the
    bitter wound, eternally festering
    carcinoma in the cockles
    of your heart,
    blind with an unrelenting
    Judas Complex,
    serrated edges of promises broken,
    shattered in the jaws
    of your decayed lying,
    sharp-as-splinters teeth.
    you've taken your bites out of me.
    your love has changed me,
    transposed me, predisposed me.
    that's my beating heart
    lying on the tiles of the kitchen floor.
    yet, you smile, as lie upon lie
    clings to your enticing lips.
    Breathlessly, I kiss the deceit
    from that cool, cherry-ripe, mouth,
    greedily gobbling
    your toxic, candied kisses,
    while you scoop out my spleen!

      Vow Of The Highlander

    Howling with frustrated rage, you claim personal foul
    against me.
    Snatching up the proverbial gauntlet, you slap my face
    with the vile stench of your steaming words.

    Decrying impropriety of conduct against you, You say you
    seek me out.

    Seek NOT that which you do not understand, for you could
    be so unfortunate as to find me

    Mother Brigid told me about monsters like you. What she
    didn't tell you about; was creatures like me.

    I will eat the beating heart of you, choke up the truth, spit
    it back at you, and watch you be consumed by the poison
    of your ignorance.

    Be wary of things like me, for I am the shadow of your
    reflection, and I am staring back at you.

    I watch you admiring yourself, see your ever-monotonous
    primping and flexing vanity, adjusting the vacuity of your
    predatory grin.

    Practicing your smug persona within self-appointed
    judicial robes, your frailty is recognized and duly noted,
    You narcissistic pompous peacock.

    I know your dreary desires, all your little lustings, you
    creature of habit and uncivilized habitat.

    You are a mere tourist in my jungle nightmare world of
    "shadow-walking" reclamation. Stray you not a toenail off
    the marked pathways.

    Your backyard is my field of hunt. I will stalk you until I have
    you in my sights. Then I will not hesitate one nanosecond.

    I will take you down and enjoy the fever of your blood as
    I drink from your life essence source. I would surrender to
    death, willingly, as long as I may hold you in my loving
    arms for an eternity of death. I am hatred and I have already
    consumed your tainted heart.

    My focused desire is to suck the very life from your mortal
    form and I am longing for a release from this mortal world.

    I am relentless ... I am the Harvester of Souls, and I come
    for YOU!


    Let me be
    your human canvas
    carve me like
    you would on stone
    my fingers bleed
    words upon the page
    yet I am only
    flesh and bone
    pacing my steps
    upon the stage
    only mortal man
    who writes his soul
    crying out
    to the thin air
    I beg of you
    to treat me fairly
    look down upon me
    if you dare
    but don't ignore me
    with your silence
    for I would be
    your human canvas ...


    craven coward
    spunk-less bombastic dastard
    perpetually arriving calculatedly late
    tin saber rattling allegorically
    where the brave and honorable have fallen
    glorifying death in battle's aftermath
    pugnacious and pretentious
    he is but a piteous SHADE
    on a blood-soaked battlefield of honor


    Faddist clone drinking
    Imitative emetic substance
    Involving abstract relations
    Laxative ipecac and diuretic
    Diagnosed prospective purgative
    Exclusive tympanic symphony
    Enema hose inserted in ear canal
    Awaiting brainwashing and bedtime stories
    Delivered with cookies and milk of magnesia!

      The Candidate

    renaissance man
    proficient of action
    exercises his will
    his dead-on-smile
    holds back
    his apprehension
    no gifted child prodigy golden boy
    ever sanctioned
    by proud and pompous parent
    must not cannot will not
    failure is unthinkable
    found guilty convicted
    sentenced to life of


    hot tears changing
    into vaporous steam
    falling on the desert
    of his heart
    her begging and pleading
    as even now
    she is discarded
    and breaking
    on the never-ending
    sand dunes
    of his indifferent
    hers is a slow
    death by starvation
    in the icy-hot
    shadow-less lands
    of the loveless
    arid desert of his soul

      Enmity Mine

    HUNGER ...
    seething and boiling
    you are in heat
    my impure heart
    ah yes ...
    how you vex me test me pique me
    religion morality emotion
    submersed in the soup
    I am drowning in the droning
    you monotonous malingerer
    of malicious malady

      Chase the Night

    keep on moving ...
    let it glide let it glide
    through the blackness
    through the rising tide

    down the highway ...
    let it ride let it ride
    away from the daylight
    far away from your pride

    forget where you came from ...
    let it slide, let it slide
    take the moonlight
    as your ghostly bride

    always moving
    let us drive, let us drive
    to the other side of midnight
    we will stop and abide

    * chorus
    too many times
    we've heard all the lies
    but nobody knows us
    'cross the continental divide

      Siren's Song

    Although I do not know you,
    your mesmeric eyes whisper
    kisses over a crowded room
    your laughter is lilting and unmistakable
    as it dances above the murmur and din
    I breathe you in ...
    a narcotic substance
    you lift me and I am
    renewed replenished restored
    to the rogue you need me to be!

      Soft Focus

    Always the watcher am I,
    seeing the subtle frown
    shadowing the corners
    of her
    innately pouted lips.
    Trying to guess
    the color
    of her every thought
    in the
    of her mind,
    what will it be?
    Is she free-falling
    out of love
    with me?
    Will I become
    just another one
    of many
    milky muted memories
    and she another dying flower
    on the vine of my many victims?

      Tongue in Cheek

    Gray matter splatter
    all over the page,
    howling in anger
    in a bitter rage.

    Shut them out lock them out
    hopefully to knock them out.

    The huntress is wounded
    by their lack of caring,
    battered and scarred
    by their laughter sharing.
    "Oh no!" she cries "alas" she sighs
    "My reign has been broken!"
    How could it be those magic words
    of freedom have been spoken?
    "YOU have no power over me!"

      In The Moment

    Modern woman
    Of her own fancies making
    Vanities pampered
    By misguided doting parents
    Not rooted in the real world
    Unprepared for life's lotto
    She feels superior
    To her clique
    Of like-minded friends
    Who thinks she is the new herald
    Of the brave explorers millennium
    A self-confirmed window
    To her future insanity
    Her scenarios are cyclic in their course
    Each time she flounders
    She reinvents herself
    As the gypsy dancing queen

      El Error de la Madre

    forever the "baby"
    finding his position of last in line
    in this family of proud warriors
    our bloodline rich with honorable men
    he is the wormhole on our branch
    of the family tree, rotting the mesquite
    by his very nature he spoils with a touch
    blighting our fine name with the maggots
    of his diseased heart and mind
    he sullies all that we have overcome
    dragging us down to the ghetto
    of his addicted soul
    all is silence around the dinner table
    no one gives voice to the one thought
    mother's secret shame, in all our minds
    a thick silence hanging over the table
    wishing he had never been born!

      Autumn People

    The ragged and raw wind of gossip
    pulsing around her trembling frame.
    Her words swim
    in the polluted waters,
    that had once been
    the moat encircling her domain.
    Hungry reptiles in her courtyard
    green scaly-faced monsters
    on the slippery incline,
    of the treachery of their desire.
    Arriving in droves,
    gathering at the foot hills of her mountain.
    Watching ... for a sign.
    Hungrily awaiting her downfall,
    her collapse and decline
    would feed their quickening blood.
    For now sustained on the appetizer
    of her heightened dread.
    They would starve if not for the feast of fear,
    and death's arms would fold them
    back to the mud and mire of their marsh.
    She rallies and cries
    "Be gone damned and woebegone!
    sink into the slime
    from whence thee spawned!
    Get thee gone, Satan's children!
    Quit thy hold upon my heart!
    Discontinue desist and depart
    "by the pricking of my thumbs
    something wicked this way comes ..."

      Shade Of My Shadow

    innocent as
    a calf at slaughter
    was your way
    of presentation
    you trailed me
    within my shadow
    so I would
    hardly notice you
    but everywhere
    I went you followed
    like some stalker
    days came
    nights went
    ever so slowly
    like liquid ooze
    I felt the sting
    of transformation
    as year followed
    repetitious year
    gradually changes marred
    my smooth fair skin
    cigarettes and booze
    have altered me
    the ravages
    clearly show
    even after
    reforming my reckless ways
    ever are you silently there
    when screamingly
    I confront you
    with my frustrated
    piercing cry
    the only sound
    you make is ...
    tick tock


Excerpted from Book Of Styx II by eddy styx Copyright © 2012 by eddy styx. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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