Unmaker – pt 2 – a poem


Against all who would remake the world, drawing

Newly risen old and tired faces into novel bodies,

One must be willing to stop, to claim dead spirits

For the void, consigning them to peace despite

Seemingly bitter ends brought to apparent innocence.


These flames flicker, light needed for souls held

Together only by ruin, desolate land crumbling,

A crushing need for renewal, to begin again

Where old bodies have fallen, ready as kindling

To be consumed, fuel for a fire to mark the future.





2 – Cold Fear – a poem

A friend, a friend, or else an enemy to cower

Before, prostrate lest we be crushed by weight

Indiscriminate for position, place or comparison;

Make a friend of your fear or face lifelong damnation.


1 – Cold Fear – a poem

Through the cold flames I whisper your name,

Fear, oldest of all companions to deliver

What we dread, hate, find malicious about

Ourselves, nature, the universe and more.


Long have the fires of frozen lakes burned

Through the ages without temperance to stay

The hand without a face, too monstrous

For sight to see, deathly harsh paramour.


Zoar pt 4 – a poem series

Cold lay the way which grew warm afore

When sighted from far off like dark roads

Leading into wherever home lies laid out

In wreaths of magic, made maudlin dreams.


Ice has grown in my beard, frost rime

Spread as do all creeping things, change

From those marsh style lands made

In the time before I entered, slow padding.


From the shadowy world I bare recalled

Come memories of a place yet unseen,

Unknown monster amidst quiet woods

Where slow glacial centuries move on.


A step into this frost bright world costs

Me in ways few mayst know bar those

Who this road have so far travelled down

To see what the path alone holds, cold.


The nature of mad fauna changes, shifts

Along with the slide from desert poisons

To hyperboreal scapes that surround

The winding path ahead, forbidding route.


Zoar pt 10 – a poem prelude

I travel on past the lapping lake under the smokes

That swirl, trying to reconcile what is with what

Lives as known quantities dreaming, seething

To be so well noticed and appraised, forced.


What holds the way through by Zoar, so many

Have wondered, the telling so small compared

To the stretched and drawn faces we thus see,

Yet I can say so far what waits this dire way…


Old nightmares forgotten come to the fore

Where we had done our best to be absolved

Of their casually shocking horrors, they lie

As alligators beneath stagnant waters here.


4 – The Priestess – a poem series

Oh, my lord, blaze this night upon the earth,

First night of many to come, the only one

Who might know the purpose, unfolding dark

Star from dank heavens rising heavenward

From the hell realms…


They will recognise these summons, people

From all the walks of life across this land,

When the creeping delirium comes to their

Minds as they lay in bed, harbinger horrible

Of what this lone priestesses’ chants bide.”