Silent Satellite

Our place is upon the crust and waves above a molten core

Betwixt the perpetually silent satellite and the ocean's roar

For only an internal vacuum fills the eternal space

This void of myths and mysticisms of the Sapiens race

For reverence sake we remould reality for beliefs and idols

For the forward thinkers need the fealty of massed disciples

So we're coerced in herds with our facts and works of fiction

As in our troubled bubble we try to quell the pernicious friction

Cults and creeds, revering wraiths and burning candles

With faith or not, we tie the knots, until we're tied in tangles

And now the air is filled with phantom words, amidst the gas and static

As we lose control and reason to the egocentric new order aristocratic

We're passive flocks, or brutal packs, we've lost the plot

For we are the orphaned species that's, forever now, forgot the lot

But I'm alright, for I'm turning the cards of the tarot's truth

And I'm sure I'm right, for they wouldn't lie and here's the proof....

I reverse the deck, one by one, of brightly coloured pictures

Invoking bespoke interpretations, like epic fables found in scriptures

And I can imagine with my minds eye, a portentous tale of doom

As I cherry pick The World and Fire and the final card, The Moon

A silent satellite is a foreboding presence, but a sea of tranquillity

And it's reflecting light tonight upon our place of pandering servility

Our fictitious realm is the crust and waves above a molten core

Betwixt the empty heavens and the reality of the ocean's roar

Emily Blaze

Crystalline blue eyes cut through the haze

Golden locks cascading, Emily Blaze

From nowhere to here, from darkness to light

There's only the ruffling of hair and the ease of her stride

The glint in her eyes is akin to a benevolent smile

But beyond the lingering looks captured for more than awhile

'They're all looking at you,' words observantly said

...of course they all are, is the response in my head

Mother is there, a wonderful whirlwind of carefree confusion

A spirit esprit, looking at me for an answer, an alluring profusion

It's not about getting there, it's about linear motion

The journey you're on and the company that's chosen

And so it begins, from one port to another, from harbour to quay

From island to island, across the land and the sea

Though from the same place, I'm afar from where they are, to put it quite bluntly

A distance from the bright lights of London and a leafy Heath in the country

'I do many things,' says mother Mary

...as the conversation heads in a different direction

And Emily's there, somewhere, someplace, but so serene in reflection

The ferry's gentle pitch and roll, the aquamarine water

Just casual hours in time, shared with Mary and daughter

Happy smiling faces as tentative questions are asked

As reminiscences are exchanged, anecdotes from the past

'I love the sea and the journey and all I need now is to be in a hammock to write'

Confides Emily Blaze with her playful eyes dreaming, before flashing alight

And she curls up with notebook and pen to scribe a different day's story

With her golden locks cascading in all of their glory

All journeys must end though

...this time upon the sun-kissed sands of an islands shore

A farewell and maybe 'see you later'

...but the time has now passed and there's only the journey before

Back from somewhere to here, from lightness to dark

It's just a moment in time and a tale to impart

It's all about getting there, for being there is lost in a haze

And the journey's always better with Mary and Emily Blaze

Just Wondering Why?

And there I was, just wandering by

And now I'm here and just wondering why?

Why am I hanging from a hanging tree?

For in a sepia haze I can see that it's me

Hanging there; hanging from a hanging tree

Strung up from a branch that's been stripped bare by November

My neck in the noose of a rope, how I got there, I cannot remember

I was there, but now I'm here, in a different place

Gazing up at the bloated facade of once upon a face

But it's so quiet here and there's no one mourning

And the silence is deafening and a fog is forming

Did I lose an unwinnable war and in the darkest hour succumbed to 'surrender'?

I really don't know, I can't find that memory, I can no longer remember

I've been gone for a while and that's obvious to see

But in the gathering murk I can see that it's me

Hanging there; hanging from a hanging tree

And now I'm here with my wandering eye

And I'm not feeling, I'm just wondering why?

Something Creepy

If you knew all the facts you would surely agree

That this isn't a place you would choose to be

So adjust your focus from the slumbering sleepy

For in this dark place there is something creepy

Sweet smell of the rancid, as you taste the fetid

With the rise of the bile invoking the wretched

Do the nightmares gather with naught to atone?

For in the festering silence you're far from alone

There's a presence in delusions, but it's actually here

And it's hunting you down like a phobias fear

It's waiting and baiting, it's got a surprise

And it's finally past time to gaze at its guise

Trapped, as if by rigor mortis, you reawaken

And Amon awaits and his brother is Satan

There's no escape, there's only destiny's lethargy

As amidst the flames you burn like an effigy

The heat's an inferno and you're melting like wax

And your fat is now dripping in lava like tracks

He's fanning the flames, he's billowing smoke

Before he grabs and he grips and rips out your throat

And the scream that is there is locked in a place

Where your heart is now racing at thrice of the pace

Soaked in your sweet sweat, you now realize

3:15 am is glowering, as if demon eyes

Now you know all the facts, I'm sure you'll agree

That what awaits beyond, you don't want to see

So rest in peace, if you're haunted and sleepy

For death is the dark place of something creepy

All is Well (Welcome to Hell)

He leans upon the railing circumventing the eyries wooden deck

Through bloodshot eyes he looks around and down, he even cranes his neck

He sees his see of heaven and earth and every grain of sand

Though he was just ink in scriptures his prophecy was carefully planned

There's a whispering wind as ashes alight in a tinderbox of crops

And a wind chime tinkles as if counting time whilst reversing hands of clocks

But there's someone there, beware, there's someone in the maize

Just a silhouette with a sickle, with vermilion eyes that gaze

And all the deluded rats are running, for what they've lost they need to garner

All those self preserving vermin seek the old lore and the solace of his karma

And hear their squeals of fright as electricity storms the skies

As the lightning bolts, in the choking smoke, an apocalyptical arise

All is well, for he has dealt the cards upon a marble plinth

All is well, atop of the stairs above his labyrinth

Aries, Leo, Sagittarius, The World is set in fire

Reckless actions lead to conflict, consequences to inspire

He retires from the railing circumventing the eyries burning deck

With one last look around and down, he sees, but chooses not to beck

He's seen it all, the broiling waters and every broken land

All scribed in ancient scriptures, the blueprint that was planned

The wind whipped flames dance amongst the incinerating crops

The silent sirens cannot wail, becalmed are all the clocks

And all the snivelling rats have gathered in the last oasis of the fickle

But there's someone there, there's someone with them, someone with a sickle

The acid rains have scarred the land with a pattern like a maze

Through which a silhouette wanders, with a bloody sickle and vermilion eyes ablaze

All the cards were dealt to see and there was nothing to surprise

Now all is well (welcome to Hell) it's Armageddon's new reprise

Friday 13th (Zombie Apocalypse)

Friday 13th (again) and again I'm in hiding

For this might be the day when worlds are colliding

Or maybe the dead will rise in a zombie apocalypse

When all the rotting roamers swarm the metropolis

I'm under the stairs, with nitrous oxide already

I'm supping on gas, I'm feeling quite heady

But it's all darkly calm, beyond the rays of the sun

Just me and the gas and the nails of the gun

I'm honed, but alone, I'm ired not placid

For it's the ides I abide when I'm dropping the acid

Of  Friday 13ths there's never a dirth

So I'm numbing this calamity for all it is worth

An hour to go and..... and all is well

But there's a distant rumbling, an artillery shell?

I'll suck it and see, but my head is now spinning

For the end is nigh, it's the end's beginning

I'm waxing the light, I'm burning a candle

And I can see it now, the turn of the handle

The creak of the door, a sinister snigger

I sup on the gas and then I'm pulling the trigger

Friday 13th (again), but I'm out on the street

Nail in my head and shuffling my feet

Dawn's quickly approaching the desolate metropolis

As I search for the herd of the zombie apocalypse

I'm shaking, I'm breaking, I'm as brittle as ice

For all that there was, was gone in a trice

I'm frothing and foaming, an unhinged rusty bracket

And I'm alone in this cell, I'm in a straightjacket

The Devil's Breath

The horror's borne in the Devil's breath
His hidden touch from the darkest depth
Evil eyes ablaze, burning red on black
Disturbing dreams of the butcher's rack
Every inhale's taken through a constricted throat
Vice like the grip of the unyielding choke
In silent death throes he will never shirk
Lungs clogged with disgorge is the Devil's perk
'twas a horror borne in the dragon's fire
Sent from Hell 'tis an emesis nigher
Brimstone in flames, he will sup on souls
Rendering to brine over burning coals
Every last one, every dragon's chastened
All corralled together when death is hastened
The horror's formed as the vomit spills
He works with delirium, in dreams he kills

Skylight Murder

Skylight skulkers, with bills as sharp as razors
Keepers  for the reaper and carrion grazers
Yclept Murder, they will tap the glass
Lamentable creatures, his own black mass
In times of penury he'll take souls for tithe
Given in nightmares of the glistening scythe
High above, watching, on the portals frame
The ebony eyes await his devilish claim
Midnight passes to naught o'clock
Under the skylight, within, there's a turning lock
Raucous cawing curtails with his arrival
Darkness forms to claim a new disciple
Eldritch presence taints a soul to steel a heart
Raptured; the skylight murder, in silence, hark

Buried Alive

The dead maybe gone, but not when they're buried alive

To escape from the grave they will desperately strive

For they're entombed in the dark, they're trapped in the soil

As they scream and they scrape with insanity's toil

There's a raven atop, upon a headstone of marble

Sensing what's 'neath, but its cawing is garble

It's dancing, it's prancing, it's fluffing up feathers

Anticipating the rising and the escaping from tethers

'Tis a 13th of winter on a night of the ides

And the full moon is pulling, as the dead rise in tides

There's a resonance, a presence, ascending through earth

As the sentinel cackles and caws for all it is worth

The restless in peace become crazed by their fate

When time is forgotten, but not so the hate

For insanity is sired in satin and wood

When the screams are all silent, there's no curdling of blood

In the eyes of the dead there's not a glimmer to seize

As they contemplate the rot of their flesh in minuscule degrees

To be ash cast from the inferno the departed will crave

But those buried alive will avenge from the grave

So they rise on a tide, like fetid murk from a mire

As moonlight etches a silhouette of a heavenly spire

And those tendrils of the dead escape under cover of night

To roam and to prey, to seek out and smite

There's a raven in flight beneath the orb of the moon

And above the swirling mists of a gathering gloom

It's looking, it's searching, for the fearful in hiding

Borne on an invisible tide it's flapping then gliding

3am, someone, somewhere, is sleeping like the dead

Until a tapping on a window, then into a nightmare they're led

Suffocating; trapped and alone, but they're shapes made of mist

And they're all gathering together in a smothering tryst

The haunted aren't dead, but they can be buried alive

When those from the grave, like a nightmare, arrive

For they'll be entombed in the dark, as if trapped in the soil

As they scream and they shake with insanity's toil

The Graveyard Shifts

The moonlight motes give rise to suppositions

As the graveyard shifts with ghostly apparitions

And there's a running man and he's running scared

For he is a witness, who has observed and heard

He was alone with silence, but whispered words were spoken

As those once at rest slipped into a mind exposed and broken

And in an open journal his scribing made it grimly clear

That he could not be there, for he had succumbed to fear

For there are those who will rise and escape the grave

To haunt the receptive with their 'in situ' waived

They're gossamer threads that choose to wander

Like moths to flames they seek the light's responder

On his own, with them, in a desolate moonlit building

He felt their oppressive presence, as his will was wilting

Goosebumps and anonymous footfalls is when he knew

Before a whispered breath, 'we're always close to you'

He's running fast, but he's a haunted man

And they'll search to find him, wherever they can

He'll never escape as his rationality sifts

For in the moonlight motes the graveyard shifts