Ghouls

Long shadows creep
the cemetery at night,
amongst the weathered granite
and dying flowers.

Amongst the twisted  
obelisks and statues lurk,
grotesque forms,
conjured up by the
waning crescent moon
and witches tricks
in the starlight.

The moonlight showers
the tombstones in light pools,
pale beings scuttle amongst
gnawed bones and ghastly scraps,
and there is the loathsome
company of ghouls.

Haunting the shadows
of human death,
feasting in catacombs
of humanities misery and flesh,
gorging themselves upon
their armies wares,
shape shifters of magic,
honeycombing the hills
with their vile tunnels and lairs.

Nocturnal by nature
devoid of all sunlight,
creeping about underground
spreading as an obscene tumour,
afforded language by others,
reason and a grisly sense of humour.

Consuming the heart and breath,
deceiving all and luring them
to their deaths,
lone scavengers or members
of crude doglike packs.
Humanities festering boils
ruled by vile appetites,
their social structure,
a heirarchy of squabbling
over grave, ill gotten spoils.