Unmaker pt 102 – poem series


In a state of awestruck haze we bore that withering stare which burrowed beneath our skins,
Seeking to absorb psychically all that we had ever been or knew, reveal the secrets that dwell

In the oceans of our hearts, poisoning dreams and future; festering chunks of savage vitriol sputum.

No stranger to the dysphoria of demons, I saw beyond the bleeding fathoms to the mind beyond,

Unmatched in my experience of malevolence yet, an ancient thing that regarded from a hungry void.


Would we be crushed under the weight of revelations from the other side? Where sulphur

Fumes reigning as lord delight, from a dark hell’s heart IT seeks to come through, drawing itself

In by the priests’ sonorously chanted permission, by the bodies ritually sacrificed writhing anew

In unwholesome necromantic unlife, a storm of catalysts drawn together, engineered from evil

Intents and avarice, screaming wind transcribing a circle of manifestation about a luridly crackling star pre-nova.



Unmaker pt 101 – poem series



Amidst this chaotic maelstrom, at the apex of fearlust and zombified terror reaching beyond death the as yet unseen star came.

Faster whirled the screaming winds, dust ever stabbing at my eyes, hooded as that blood glow intensified…

Now we knew the monolithic obsidian glass edifice did not protect the baleful thing descending, but shaded

Others from its intense and unholy power! A new sound, keening and growling like a dog both hurt

And angered, mingling with the chants, risen to a babbling, mad frenzy, bloodlight strobing through a hurricane.


To be bathed was too mild a term for the glow of the dread star suspended in the gap of staggered black glassiness;

This light permeated the flesh, entered the crawling scalp and peeled back all physical barriers.

Only red existed, everything that ever was only existed by the star’s ruby sufferance, the cage holding it

Slowly phasing into sight as the heatless furnace dims a fraction, jagged and uneven metal shapes

That both cushion and protect and… through the perpetual horror came a new knowledge:

Through the star something looked back at us from a bloodlit abyss without compare; no star had we found, but an eye…


Unmaker pt 100 – poem series


Something stirred, a cosmic entity taking note of the sudden and savage ritual, provoking

My kinsman to action although I tarried but knew not why, a sense of events cycling, shutting

Closed, never mind the obvious occultists’ wrath to incur; “How now?” the armoured

Warrior asked, drawing the dull and dented broadsword at his back. In placation I raised

An arm to touch the blade, quash violence on our side, observers to madness only.


A hundred blood gargling sighs rose to feed the star’s growing brightness, borne on priestly

Tongues; back their hoods are drawn, scarred lumps where eyes would have upward gazed,

Shudderingly hideous to witness, space about us warped, as if gravity had been reversed, we

Hung, idle like painted ships on a demon painter’s ocean, trapped and beholden by an evil

Sybaritic ritual. Warily we watched, limbs heavy yet weightless, to see the blood moat boil…


Over all arose a sighing wind, deep and thrumming, it filled the air, above the chants fervent and our

Breaths amidst that pestilence. No natural breeze but ghastly and forced, it swept the dust from

Our feet and buildings behind to the well ahead where priests deliriously seemed to shriek unholy

Litanies, unheard for the screaming wind whirling debris rings above the well, luridly lit in tones

Of sanguine sorrow, the dead bodies on dank stone beginning to thrash as the dread crimson star descends…


Unmaker pt 100 – a teaser


Shudderingly hideous to witness, space about us warped, as if gravity had been reversed, we

Hung, idle like painted ships on a demon painter’s ocean, trapped and beholden by the evil

Of cruelly sybaritic ritual. Warily we watched, limbs heavy yet weightless, to see the blood moat froth, boil…

Unmaker pt 99 – poem series



Many corners awaited us before we happened upon that dank scene of red terrors upheld

By many voices, volcanic bulwarks marking out a staggered circle arena, a miniature

Coliseum whose centre held concentric obsidian wells wherein vague oblong shadows

Swam in red murk, brooding, never congealing and iron tangy; the rising chant of strangely robed folks

Drew our attention, upturned faces enrapt for the crimson glow bathing their aged and craggy features.


About the wells lay sacrifice occupied onyx altars, narcotic disturbed motor controlled limbs blindly a’strain

Against an iron and obsidian smoothness, the star that holds this throng holds them also,

Keeps us at bay as on the chant rises, sonorous and ominous, excessive pitch and bass,

Light matched to chant pace, a dual crescendo swells in strange syllabled cacophony; some stepping forward with daggers

Held high, and into unwilling chests plunged, to feed the blood light’s pulse and the well dwellers ecstatic shivers…


Unmaker pt 98 – poem series


Along a newly opened chalky slope we gazed upward to the grand pinnacle, yellow rock which

May have obsidian been for the warmth it radiated, grim bulk rising proud from its neighbours,

Topaz peaks set a’glitter by dank and newly arrived sun which covetousness built, testament

Yet standing against corruption. A voice descends, bouncing from tower to tower to tall

Spires and the austere bulk of the cathedral far, far below where a priestess dreams…


To a high plateau we ascended, space confused and trying to fold us into oblivion

At such crossing points, yet we stood atop terraces of the inner castle walls where

Once rich citizens, merchants and the yeoman of courtiers lived, lifelines of prosperity

Severed yet standing grim still are the turrets and towers indicative of concentrated power,

Ideal stage for the new words floating on dust laden winds, a chant from betwixt crumbling walls.


We had fought hard for our current way, evidently opened by the lady Vissom, and would

Not lose our by blood won advantage for a trifle, so carefully we went into the labyrinth

Of yellow stone buildings, their visage presented more ominous than black would have been

To behold. From around the decay weathered corners we spied red radiance growing from

The edifice tumble ahead, gathered voices chanting in concert cause us to draw our blood trade.


Unmaker pt 97 – poem series



Lonely rulers in grand tower thrones must watch us approach through their dry domain,

Dominions held by terror and crude magicks meant only to twist existence from true

Directions; another jewel fallen, another droplet consumed by the one true master

Only reaching one spiny leg across Time, and the Wheel bends, folded from centre

Outward to draw in prey; from high towers may lonely rulers watch, yet all hang thus suspended.


Among the spires hanging over the horizon like keys from the hands of cloud scraping

Gods the King surely must watch. “An arm, heavy with furs over plate” I say, “slung about

His lady Queen’s shoulders, a pinnacle of repose! Do they mark our progress as

Do gamblers on the best horse?” I say wryly, met by, “From a merrily hazy opiate laced

Reverie do they observe us, perhaps, lips slowly moving to measure our silent exchanges.”


Ahhh, the dreams of destitute warriors that we hold to in these darkened days; at least

The maze of a mad deity has restored itself following our unfortunate tryst, as lovely

As any meeting with a long lost loved one can hopefully go. In lighter moods did retreat

The corridors of charred bone, leaving a way, a path to the tall towers of the castle interior

Stronghold fastness, gleaming hard and dull akin to a mountain peak range, yet to climb.