An Ode To The Gut Vomit In The Gates Of Hell

Resident poet Nigel Parkin pens a poem celebrating one of the most disgusting scenes in Lucio Fulci’s The Gates of Hell VOMIT FROM HELL Tommy has chosen the worst part of town To park,  right by the dilapidated Old hotel, exhaling decay in cold Mist, sighing with secrets, half heard horrors, Whispered tales of visions and perversions, Deviant acts of witches’ descendants. ‘That stupid Salem witch stuff,’ Tommy likes To call it, while really relishing it. That’s why he’s here, holding Rose in place with Tight, insistent arms, unbuttoning her Shirt to reach for a reluctant breast, his Mind crowded with images of naked Virgins writhing in the grip of demons. One day, he tells himself, he’ll film such things. But in the meantime Rose cannot relax. She pushes him away, telling him she Feels they’re being watched, suggesting maybe Some Satanic sixth sense stirs within her, Bubbling, churning,  ready to turn her Inside out. Sensing his moment slipping away Tommy resorts to the rational, switching His lights on to penetrate the creeping Gloom and to reveal what stands before them – A stack of shadows…nothing more. For a moment Rose is satisfied. Then Hell reveals itself.