Reciting Shakespeare with the Dead


From the pages of celebrated literary magazine Danse Macabre comes RECITING SHAKESPEARE WITH THE DEAD a collection of haunting prose and poetry from Bram Stoker Award nominated writer Benjamin Blake. RECITING SHAKESPEARE is a phantasmagoric carnival that shape-shifts across the darkest recesses of the mind and heart. Blake’s shadow-strewn collection will whisper sweet and sanguinary nothings in a voice like fall leaves rustling through half-forgotten cemeteries at midnight.
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The Sorrows of Life

This city's thirst for blood is insatiable
I can feel it seeping from the cracks in the pavement
Flowing from the sewer grates in clouds of crimson mist
It works its way into our troubled hearts
And draws us to the alter

The early evening light
Bleeds through stained glass saints
And falls upon upturned wrists
A knife, handle fashioned from female bone
Feels right in your left hand
Southpaw – do your worst
To keep the devil happy

In that churchyard
Tombs stretch out for miles
You’re intimate with every cadaver
Can trace their history to the dark ages
When this place was nothing but a clearing in the forest
A stone circle in the fire’s orange glare
Our curse was born in this primeval time

Making sure the sorrows of life never end



From Reciting Shakespeare with the Dead, published by Hammer & Anvil Books, and available from Amazon.
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The Midnight Liner

Ice frozen time
Thawed as the clock strikes 0
A new dawn reoccurring in the dark
Inevitable
A meteor shower
Raining on a barren landscape
(the moon keeps this heart afloat)
(as it commands the endless tide)

And each day I drown
Beneath murky waves
While trying to find Atlantis 



From Reciting Shakespeare with the Dead, published by Hammer & Anvil Books, and available from Amazon.


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Claw-Foot Tub

Run the faucet
Light several vanilla scented candles - bath salts and bubbles are all ready to go
Rose pattern paper peeling from years of steam and heat
Her slip falls to the tiled floor
Before she steps in

Lost all track of time
A slight movement causes the water to lap at porcelain cliffs like minute waves
Was that a sound from the other side of the door?
Upon the wall the roses seem to be dying
The candles flicker and spit
Suddenly she realizes
The water is much deeper than it should be

And the color’s all wrong



From Reciting Shakespeare with the Dead, published by Hammer & Anvil Books, and available from Amazon. 

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