'Grave Goods' by Cardinal Cox

I received a copy of this ebook from the publisher, Demain. As regular blog readers will know, I am a huge fan of the work of Cardinal Pete Cox, sometime laureate of Peterborough and delver into all things occult and eclectic. You can read an interview with the poet on the Demain site here. It offers some fascinating insights into how he lives and works, and confirms my view of the Cardinal as a bright light hidden under a huge bushel of cultural snobbery.

But enough imagery from me! What of the poems? Well, Grave Goods has its inhuman origins in that period when Cox was Poet in Residence of the Dracula Society. They wanted one poem for each issue of their quarterly journal. Just eight poems over two years, then. But...

'My time there coincided with things like Christopher Lee’s death and the theft of Murnau’s skull and suddenly I was swamped with inspiration. I had to get all these poems scribbled down in case the inspiration dried up. And as I wrote I realised various back-stories were emerging from the murk. There were a few ideas that came but another idea came along so quickly that it just never got used. That is where the ‘Fifty Pieces’ in Grave Goods came from.'

And what a fine collection it is. I think I have read a lot of these poems before in various self-produced pamphlets, but they still have a wonderful freshness. Any conceivable subject linked to the Gothic world of vampires and their creators seems to be covered. And that's a big world. And, inevitably, one thinks of contemporary events, as Cox is very good at nailing the contradictions in the way we (a category that includes me) want horror to be cosy and scary, sexy and safe, home and away...

Enough chuntering from me, here is a sample of the man's work. Imagine this one spoken in the voice of the current prime minister...

A VERY ENGLISH DEVIL

Suburban Satanists start orgy with sherry

Among rosebushes - statue to Baphomet found

Meet at full-moon midnight upon the cricket ground

Divesting themselves of tweed as they get merry

Takes some bally Frenchman to frown upon their rites

To hire a darn exorcist against their worship

And, you know old chap, it really does take the pip

The nerve of him disturbing their midsummer nights

Doesn't he know we spent our youth at public school?

A bit of ritual spanking is nothing new

And if we must sacrifice some sweet chambermaid

Well you do have to follow each infernal rule

After dinner, in every beech-lined avenue

There are some who taste what other coves have forbade

I particularly like the clever use of 'cove' and 'avenue' there, the open and the enclosed. And of course it's Mocata, of The Devil Rides Out, who is speaking here, so perhaps imagine it ready by the late Charles Gray instead of Bozo Johnson. Whatever, you catch my drift. 

This is a splendid collection and if I have one reservation, it's that the erudite notes the Cardinal appends to his work in his pamphlets are missing. Well, we can't have everything. I know poetry is a minority taste even among voracious readers. But if you give one poet a chance this year, go for the Cardinal. He knows what he's doing. And what he's doing is weaving a web of dark wonder for us all.

Finally, a few short extracts illustrating the range of what's on offer:

No one notices the spring shoots are strange

Bursting eager through the thin grey soil

Breaking forth from seed much like a boil

Knowledge of alien weed might derange

'From Venus With Love'

Sharp spades dig down into the tight loam

Searching for her particular prize

What they want's a singular tome.

Open the box, avert their eyes

One reached down, he sees it there

Entwined amidst her mass of hair

'Ophelia's Grave'

A set of Bronze Age pots

Pistol that a highwayman shot

Salt chipped from the wife of Lot

In the higgledy-piggledy store of a local museum

'Local Museum'