Lord of Pain – a poem


Come see it, my vassals, all ye loveless,

See what I made for thee and thine,

A pool nestled at this dank cavern’s heart,

Let your many lives be not a number,

And find here untrammelled succour.


Virii from the Lethe, it’s tributaries,

Styx and Acheron, breeding, blooming,

Dark and virulently petulant with bleeding

Horror from unknown depths for my children

Rife amongst the sulphurous realms dreaming.


The teeth of week old corpses were brought

Forth and melted down for the pool base, shiny

They were when taken from mouths rot corrupt,

The juice of fresh child eyes and tears

Poured within to bring that softness, fear sheen.


Hate from the underbelly of lives sadly lost

And always overlooked, forgotten, piled up

Till the hate leaked out in heavy streams,

Pooled like rotten liquid metal methane,

Taken away and poured down, for you all profaned.


The Devil Orchids, ruby hued and nodding,

Swollen, have sprouted from seeds so dark

From stark lands beyond the human soul’s song

Of Imagining and the periphery of life, nod at the edge,

Procured from demons masquerading as angels.

Those soft songs of morphine have lasted

Long enough for me to draw them forth

For you, my children, my loveless vassals,

For an anodyne soothing and forgetfulness

Bringing, a lullaby of lost souls, unwitnessed.


Leprous atomic angels with lips sewn shut

Watched as I threw those corpses down,

Poured a dead god’s gasoline over them

And alight set them, whispering as to sludge

The bodies burned, for you all, my vassals loveless.


I am no god, but a Lord at least of this land

Pale with recollections barely remembered

In other realms where hearts scarce beat but

For the poisons drawn from babies’ auras,

And I am a Lord of Pain, above thou and thine.


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