Unmaker – pt 13 – a poem


Solitary wanderers, our paths at times will cross, lonely

Though our travels are, we stand against timelessness,

Roaming souls in transit sometimes meeting on the roads hard

Worn by bare feet, decrepit shoes, fallen weapons and

The dead words of lost rulers, heard by wanderers only.


Transient creatures, we are frozen as insects in amber

Moving within the treacle of cycles that encompass life,

Death, a curse unbroken like the ring of marriage, encircling

All that we know, this unholy circle that we seek to break

By bringing it to fullness, whether wished for by others or not.


Our purposes were waylaid, displaced and transplanted

By the drive that surrounds, leeches into the world of others,

Infected realms of crumbling elder lore with little meaning

For those who would read them are gone, or mad, and we

Stalk on, old lives lost and the mantle of new purpose embraced.



Unmaker – pt 12 – a poem


Under the unlawful aegis of mistaking birth for worth

Are many transgressions committed, although one

Only was needed to begin the roiling riot of deathless

Existence typified by that prison wherein rotted without

Ending those ruinous prisoners, bones bleached by water.


They herded them from all corners, before any of us

Here came over the grand distances, seeking a return

To those precious lives of ours lost, the poor folk

Suffering found no sufferance from their liege lords, king

Or queen, condemned to prisons and a hell sunken world.


Nor was that all of the injustice visited upon them, those

Legions of subjects once deemed as valuable society,

Although twere well if were all and no more besides!;

Nay, instead did spread the curse of depthless agony,

Loves and lives not lost but existing in torment eternally…


Unmaker pt 11 – a poem

Under the hooves of horses beneath demons, riders
Of spite and cruelty, the once innocent are crushed
Endlessly, industrial destruction let loose
By order of a former king’s writ, yet when failed
Another’s royal decree led to a sinking of the land…
Invaders that call upon those whose work
Has far more success met, they hold no pity,
Strange faces on their talismans to summon
Themselves to prey, easy or matched, all alike
In sustenance, all an option, no-one spared…
Long ago I implored the heavens to quiet the gods
Of storm and thunder, prayers whispered to placate
Visions of doom, the land swarmed, yet
The same came to pass in death across this far land…
And now my bell chimes for storms against my own kind.

Unmaker pt 10 – a poem interlude


A time to rest, snatched out from the realms

Where slow struggle stops, timeless interlude

At a fire for the soul, for us all to here

In repose rest, recover from travails dire,

Knights earlier drowning in death, now blades laid down.


Every step we take, each life we consume, cannibals

At play most foul for a purpose to finish, to end

All that stagnates, dries on The Wheel

To unrecognisable pulp, squashed souls

Vying for power, control, reavers without names…


Unmaker – pt 9 – a poem


As automatons we reach with every step
A tiny fragment of world power gained
By arm and by will, force and subtlety,
The minstrels who will tell our tales
As yet unborn, heroes of a dying kingdom.
There are no life and death matters these days,
The sighs of crestfallen warriors resounding
Along with fallen priests here forgotten
For sorceries of dark and light both
Which have their undying victims ensnared.
Pursued by pestilence, flame and steel
When making prisoners failed to help
Of the afflicted, accursed ones, suffering mortals;
Laid to waste, we limp on past lightly lapping
Waters which vainly wish for us all a fitter end.
After the aeons our hair lies lank, greasy,
Lank and matted with blood, dried by heat
From hearths that once lit homes bright,
Now barely showing a gleam on armour
And the poor devils that therein do wait…

Unmaker – pt 8 – a poem


Is it so wrong to want? To desire a final full stop?

For us to live beyond the dire dreams of dread sins?

Committed without consideration full and true, they

Obscure what lies under, past the outer layers of skin,

Visible signs, the sorrow and horror of cannibal souls…


We are reavers now, destroyers seeking power to draw

The world and all time to a final conclusion, mixture there

Of all worlds and places, ice and fire, stone and poison,

Trapped and whirling spirits impaled on Time’s Wheel;

Ever turning, inexorable mechanism of hateful and far stars.


Release from the bonds of doomed eternity, fated to repeat

Our same mistakes until correction, repetition for reactions

Honed by transcendent means to sharp strategy preparations,

The least left to chance the better for success, and we murder,

We slaughter for an end, to release the Wheel and end Time’s Flame…


Unmaker – pt 7 – a poem


All it takes, all that is needed, the tiniest spark of error,

Wilful ignorance breeding pride into the ordinary goals

Of leaders and royalty, tawdry colours thus brandished

Above dry grey visions truly dark; strange for the fears held

When that fear was of an end to light, yet damns us all.


Kingdoms rose despite the curse of corrupted crowns,

Held aloft for their centuries by common men and women,

Now perpetually crumbling, broken stone towers dotted

Amidst the lapping waves of forgetful Lethean flame,

Washing away wonders without a name, lost tales.


There will be no regression, regaining or restoration,

Only an end is desirable…we have long fought, vampires

We have become, preying upon kinsman and foe alike,

Madness from undying death the alternative, delirium

Come to rule our otherwise forgotten lives, struggling.