Unmaker – pt 22 – a poem


That the pledge I here laid would be called upon I doubt not,

Although now my mortally cursed heat beats faster for fear

Drives my fingers reaching into those cold flames, wreathing

My arm about as I am drawn forward to a new arena here

In this grand and elderly land where demons came to be lost.


Endlessly have I wandered but this land is not large enough

To be endless, despite ever circling the world, each stretch

Filled with death after death, hunger for thirst quenching sips

Of elixir high and strong when wanes the spirit, and we look

To them, those lords and ladies who wrested undue merits.


With this single step I may be lost forever, a soul consigned

To an insouciant abyss; whether we were brave or true,

Wicked or winsome, no trait would matter any longer

For a loss incurred in this stream of bodies here drawn

By a voice so sweet calling, calling us to end this world nigh.




Unmaker – pt 21 – a poem


Play it safe or play it loose, despair comes regardless of the risk

Taken, chance and luck governing more than we give credit for,

The talismans gathered from skulls found in frozen wastes

Failing to protect after being pledged to the road over long,

And we pile hope thereupon for dead men’s fingers to us protect.


Every intention can be good, every desire driven by altruism,

But we would not be here otherwise, drawn thus by powers

Beyond our ken, pawns upon the board of the game played

Between light and dark, grand schemes of gods and devils

Enacted upon a land where too much stays, forever rotting.


Into this harsh interregnum were we thrust, the promise of return,

However slight promising enough for trialling the road through,

Every effort not for the selfless push to destroy, to bring an end,

To seal the ends of this incalculable drama amid its interlude,

Instead a return to home, family, children, all that we loved, lost.


Unmaker – pt 20 – a poem


Fear, fear keeps us here, angels and devils alike, momentum

Arrested for the horror that rears its head at seeing challenge,

The grand armoured figures of stone standing upon bridges

Broken in days long forgotten, the knights at strange repose

Beside, white garbs and white weapons tools of divine terror.


Of all that which is involved to unmake the world here stagnating,

We are the least of them, these forces that aspired so high

To claim what stars are made of and the light that enlivens

Soul, spirit and suffering with joy…confused for power now

To push back a darkness due to fall, night’s dank curtain.


The state of time is night and day, one preceded by the other,

Followed thereby, dark and light, bright and night, yet some see

Their chance to win over many and reach past, to the dark claim

When mortal man was meant to his chance have, lost for aeons

To the whims of narcissists, their deluded naysayers screaming in fear.


Unmaker – pt 19 – a poem

Before the work begins we gather, ghostly and gossamer figures

Crossing paths at the crucible of flame that mirrors the source,

Perpetuated by those held captive to their own stories, trance

Enmeshed as if theirs was the only empire to rule over any land,

Paper paupers pretending at divinity, driving at ignorant hubris.


I look for familiar faces amidst the throng in between, cycles

That lie drawn out and stretched thin, sere time chunks closed

With their own rules, our clothes mostly stolen, yet a few

Retain those vestments of former lives, minds still whole

With recollections of old goals, now dead vendettas run riot.


We pass one another, stories crossing in the aether that pervades

This nexus of all worlds, blood everywhere the sign of passing

Into a new phase, another cycle begun again with more madness

This time, and I dip my fingers to touch the death that is held

Here by this sticky and blackened stain, witness to lost mortality.


Unmaker – pt 18 – a poem


Seeking, this would be Promethean caste of exiles

Found only stagnation, a dark interregnum yawning
With stale stasis at its stymied and sorrowful core,
Their herculean sorceries rending space and time,
Heroes and horrors alike between the interstices here wending…
We vie, and we must be careful of those who vie,
Those traitors of blood and soul, and.. and sacrifice!!
Those stealers of the sustenance we all strive for,
Murderers…sinners most profane whom always
We must challenge, for kinsman and self same sinners alike.
Some seek again the madness, death an unending release,
Nepenthe unleashed in circular melee and royalty led riots
The mad attacking everything, turning the sane sinners mad
And making them mad again ad infinitum infest
Yet we watch them fade, hollow to the core, our own fates so drear…

Unmaker – pt 17 – a poem


From the decrepit walking skeletons of dread do we wrest

What power we can, forever murdered again and again,

Interminable resurrection feeding aspects arcane in us

To blossom, to bleed, to swell into manna laden wonder

Enmeshing the very air about us, we who sternly live to destroy.


Upon the angled steel flanges of my mace I draw what festered

Beneath the ground by the central fire, faeces and offal, lime

And insects mixed to suffering horror, the miasma of being near

Enough, rotten resin slime that infects although briefly only

For that flame driven restoration, major ruin in between times.


Each moment matters outside the boundaries of space, time

Constrained in pieces which pull us inexorably, internal pressures

Mirrored as if twere reflections glimpsed by lunar light

In dim waters rippling with spider-like movements, enemies

Roaming and out for blood; yet so are we…and so sad…


Unmaker – pt 16 – a poem


That absolute power corrupts is an adage old as society,

From the primal sin of the first lie told to gain edges unfair

Over our kinsman, since spread for that first impact, ripples

Spreading over the surface of time that encapsulate these lands

Wherein lost empires still struggle under unholy forces.


To struggle is the natural state of flame, guttering tongues

That lick to high heaven with the fire of prayers, twitching

Into possible oblivion if we should succeed in our endeavours,

Our own power stolen, consumed from others, forlorn souls

Which once preyed upon the meek, or over them justly ruled.


In ephemeral lightning flashes of heavenly thunder I do light

The gathering darkness that surrounds, drawn by our swings

To cancel viral lives clinging and their insidious vitriol stuck

Upon the unclean walls, stones struck by rotting weapons,

A cycle within turning time, all restored by this ominous overture.