The Demon Calls – a poem

Soundless topaz detonation

Swells, a too fast/so slow eruption,

Illuminating in flash blinding white

Dims in shuddering waves, devolving

Back to the source.


Then comes the song…


The blastwave of sound, demon talk

And dark whisper of secret desire thrummms,

The creature calling, in its prison

Of bones and obsidian stone,

Crawling with lightning.


Spiderweb crackling creeping

Lightning spreads in malign yellow

Malice; the detonations continue,

Fracturous decay of the sonic booms

Ends on a piercing tone.


A spirit is drawn to that horror calling,

Its malice unmistakeable…

A warning and lure deplorable

Yet no less tempting for knowing

Of the ruin, the hurt, those sound blast decay delayed topaz noises


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