Gothic Council Presents: Gothic Poetry Slam

Categories: Gothtopia

That up there is a poetry performance piece done by regular Gothic Council member and author of the Encyclopedia Gothica, Liisa Ladouceur. The video, directed by Tomb Dragomir, helps answers the eternal question, "What is goth?" This is, of course, the whole purpose of the Gothic Council. Well, that and making fun of people until they cry, but mostly the whole definition thing.

Now, all goths have written bad poetry in their lives, even me. Especially me. So I thought it would be fun if I contacted some of the gothic community to own up to their compositions from back in the day when the angst was just too damned angsty to stand and had to be poured out upon the page to be left somewhere where others could find it and gently ask us what was wrong.

Ladies and gentlemen, we present the first of what I hope will be many more Gothic Def Poetry Slams.

Good stuff, right off the bat. Not only do we have this 1997 work from Houston's own Bear Wilder, DJ, VJ, and manager of the short-lived, but awesome Bone Church club night, but we have it scanned right off the original notebook paper! Wilder wrote "Holy Night of the Ecneloiv" after a perfect evening at one of Houston's other sadly lost clubs, the Cellar.

Wilder was also a premier publisher of goth poetry back in the day through his Zillah's Lamp zine.

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Gabriel Iev
Gabriel Iev

 The Gothic I am the poet of the dark cropping in cold gardens dead flowers with pale hands Am I being dark who watches the night with the look of a vampire trying to find beauty that lurks in every shadow My eyes painted black see what they can not be seen by mortal eyes I am the night mist ear of gargoyles the cathedrals I wander in the dark skies where the eyes of crows shine the magical twilight in the dark see the light few still produces and on earth where beings day creep gently with plan my wings dark angel My loneliness devours the hours waiting for the day is done to fall on me cover of night where daydream without arousing My verses written with blood runs like a warm rain in abandoned buildings where I leave the lament of a world ill recorded Disease left by beings day that destroy the world with their impious rage Who are the strangers? Or are you crazy? Leave me alone with my sorrow because the left is crying After all, someone needs to cry then it's me being of darkness Nosferatu Let me light my fire in the land of the dead souls I lie down on the tombstones cold and pies left by beings of old Let me sing dark bowels Close to me the world is sick maybe there is more healing someone needs to cry then it's me being the dark night Sandro Kretus

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