Devils dream in the blood with hard wishes
To bring down mighty plans of pained demigods,
Each touch a rarefied wire gone live in spatters
For time lived without the assistance of angels
In the dark, slumbering sequels approached
In search of knowledge and succour.
Few lie in wait to be found, let alone resolved,
The conjuration of infernal flame lost in flow,
Ebb and tidal forces of horror hail at all moments
Inappropriate, the host burdened by hate,
Boundless by degrees dealt in exponential
Existentialism; devils ever dreaming anon.
Sentinels of ruination stand at all corners,
Waiting for their appropriate chance to leap,
To pounce, prepared from the initial jump
With all necessary appurtenances for their
Paragons of banality ring about in rhymes
Held as staves to smash in what resists
Against the accepted boredom, made
Acceptable for the slow fuse of confusing
Tall stand the sentinels of greydom, warriors
Ready at a moment’s dry notice to appear,
From rooms where tapestries hang decrepit dusty,
Waiting to pounce, trapped souls tuned in timeless
How we wait in silence from later on,
Those early days examples of more
Boisterous energies unleashed without
Due care for casualties and exclusions.
No hesitation held in such an instance
Goes heeded well, known for what it is
Despite a lack of prior care to attend
To such mutual assurances in partnership.
Loud calls become soft caresses, slight
Brushes along the inner diameters flit
Like fireflies over nerves singing to feel
All that they can, and hungry for more,
Lastly looked at theorems from deities discounted
Line the barely looked at pits where fall wishes
From the lips of more bothered acolytes bargaining
For chips with which to bargain, for boons to ask
In the altered lanes keeping the lost souls at bay.
Cosmic interpreters hailed to sound signals
From far off climes on worlds lit by light
From suns hanging in alien skies, change
In slight manner making more of earth
Bound concerns than those turquoise
Skies may indicate, all adepts fearing
For what may come in star flung time.
Calls in the stone world where old bones dream,
Titanic bodies bleached by starlight turned cold
From those interstellar voids, warmth kept at bay
By those grand distances formed from stardust.
Quietly bellow those stained titans of stone
Upon their funeral pyre of burning sands,
For casual wanderers to hear, to stop by
Their infernal resting place and hear all woes.
Consigned to fiery torment of rest beneath skies
Lacking respite from a dwarf’s brutal fusion flames,
These titans lay submerged in sands far removed
From the world where they hailed, of ordinary size.
Hollow ring the words of the hopeful
In those dank caverns and corridors
Of doubt, unheard for a clamour more
Dangerous than the overlords wish to
Admit of, peons lost and running amok.
In the chambers of machine horror, asylum
Of tortured metal spirits, so many bodies spill
From viscous, almost organic fluid near amniotic,
Or stay trapped within in vivo prisons while others
Strike out for success while their brethren struggle.