Materia Insubstantia – a poem

For the eyes which watch from inside

Those warden shells of steel, unalike

To stone, materia insubstantia to crumple,

Pale and thin protection heralded as grand

A shield as may ever be found, aegis of all

That holds a protector over frightened heads.



Challenges Smouldering – a poem

And for all those challenges issued there lie

Too many more to count, lords in their high towers

With robes stinking purple from riches defy

The word spread by meek mouths, soon changed

To the spread of gums slashed by broken teeth.


The royalty of olden days has come to this time

To die, so many who should have stayed there,

Where the master sent them long ago, in moods

Whose source ever lay unknown to us, loyal children

In infernal matrimony, trapped and yet willing.


Wayward Truths – a poem

In unfathomable swathes of dark do move

Scenes of the world without, fog frost obscured

In time, the arbiter of all activities, foreign

Bodies dislodged and disinterred from safety,

The spirits wandering in unholy curiousity.


A soul just separated from the host body

Roams at the obeyance of whims unknown,

Unidentifiable, one flickering point amidst myriads,

Possibility of absorption into the manifold many

Ever present, always pressing, threat without jest.


All Gods Follow – a poem

This day all gods follow a road down

From heaven to ruination, the path

That rare led anywhere now makes

A harvest of deities misplaced, believed

In and deified by modern man only.


Ephemeral wishes form divinity in aether

To deliver them, part grown, barely mature,

To lands in which they swell, growing

Like the tides beneath a dank lunar pull,

The sowing yet to be made, planted.

Rigidity reaped is the harvest from souls

Too long in thrall to copper gods for whom

The realms sigh and seek to shake off

For ritual trapped mortals to become free:

This day all gods go down this road, to die.


Pain Has a Name – a poem

Who would have thought so much could wait,

Slumbering beneath the skin?; slow explosions glow,

Erupting along muscle ripples, the secret name

Unknown until the guest has settled, unwanted,

A home made like wasps honeycombing



It pulls from tendons stretched to itching point,

Nerve impulses blended in with blazing dumbness

To align all corridors of the mind, inveigling into

Cracks, crannies filled to bursting with the effluvia

Let loose, burning amok in patterns without



Chemical Dependencies – a poem

Heavier than air, the miasma sinks to ground,

Disturbed by careless footsteps set down

Without thought for what may be stirred up,

Drawn to madness and fire, spirits let loose.


For the spirits who lie in wait, ever hungry

To absorb, to devour, the energies abound

In bodies swarming wild, loaded with power

Of the kind only souls lovingly provide.