Nothing's Forever

Nothing's forever, not even the ephemeral myths of our ghosts and gods

Omnipresent revenants, the dead among us, will die again by all the odds

The starry heavens will fade back to black as the planets wilt and crumble

Higher realms will remain unfound, except in the moot words we mumble

In every empty mirror, there are clues, that life with time is a misdirection

Nothing's the simple sempiternal truth, we might surmise in our reflection

Given to light from dark, we're the passed and present, but we are neither

'til the skies burn dry, we're random moments in time, in a sphere of ether

Seasons will spring, from summer into winter, as we inevitably fail and fall

For with our liege, the interminable ticking clock, we're obediently in thrall

Our nightmares will always prevail, they will be with us until the bitter end

Revealing that nothing's for sure, there's no escape, no stairway to ascend

Everything's temporary, even the gleaming heavens above, abundant stars

Visibly unyielding, yet fatally fading, into the oblivion that's more than ours

Eternity's for the myths of ghosts and gods of our imagination's endeavour

Reasoning will tell us though, that the afterlife's a fallacy; nothing's forever

Dark December

Darkness fades to shapes of shades amongst the dazzling, dancing faeries light

An invisible horde, en masse, meandering towards the end of the longest night

Revenants are prevalent and akin to paradoxical moths, drawn to dying flames

Kindred spirits forever and now the nyctophiles, from the long lost old domains

December remembers and descends, through moonlit mist to the chill of drizzle

Ending with the ritual black-mass of the passed, the wraiths and the dire dismal

Called to gather, from dust and ashes and from ancient barrows of empty graves

Enthralled with rapture, in a cast of shimmering shadows, of the shortening days

Maudlin spectres await the churches solemn sunset knell, as the bells chime four

By the break of dawn, the languid gathered, will return to where they were before

Evanescing in the longest night, fading to the forgotten memory of a dying ember

Reshaping the wandering shades back to shadows, of a sombre dark December

 

Desert Ranger

Once upon a time, long ago, there was a maverick, a desert ranger

Who almost died alone, to feed the crows, to become the stranger

Death defied him and life denied him, he thought all hope was lost

Until he found an old way, to bridge the gap and he finally crossed...

...into a barren, purgatorial place, to be cast adrift and left for blind

In an otherworld wasteland, where Hell itself had been left behind

And he cursed gods and men, with a carrion's caw and a loaded rifle

As he swore his vengeance, in the nightmares that he couldn't stifle

And now he wanders along the neural networks of lax lucid dreamers

Seeking a way back, through the fault lines of self-doubting schemers

And although he's fed on many, leaving them a disturbed empty shell

He's still trapped, in a nowhere place, that's so much worse than Hell

So be warned tonight, of a sightless maverick, carrying a carrion crow

For he might emerge, from the wastelands, with delusions to bestow

And you might live happily, forever after, but you will be the stranger

Who will feed the crows, as he once did, as the undead desert ranger

 

On The Far Side Of The Moon

 On the far side of the moon, there's a wonderful place of pure ignorant bliss

Where myriad stars above abound, some feel so close you could almost wish

It's an imaginary domain, where our gods forever lie, with their faces hidden

In the mass open graves, where they were born to die, in thoughts forbidden

Even with enlightenment through cognition, naught arises from that unseen

And nothing stirs, for it's solely the devil's work, that is denounced, obscene

But even Hell itself, is just the unreal vacuous realm, of a distant lunar mare

Where the dreamcatchers catch, turning daydreams to night, for us to share

And in that airless pantheon phasm, envisage a monolith, that stands alone

A sentinel to the frozen nothingness, of lava, shaped into a temple of stone

But it's there in prayers, in an impact crater, intelligently designed and hewn

Engraved with ancient hieroglyphs, of doctrines, on the far side of the moon

It's a blissful place we cannot see, but we fill the gaps with wishful thinking

Eternally cold and barren, day or night, but beware when the sun is sinking

For in the pitch-black, beneath all those glistening stars, dark matters form

As the desiccated dust, turns into scattered ashes, before the light of dawn

He's A Pumpkin Eater

He's as mad as marbles, he's a pumpkin eater, with a pumpkin head

Every year he's conjured by the witches, from the bones of the dead

Sired on All Hallows' Eve, into an anathema, with a ravenous hunger

And now he'll sate his greed, on the feeble old and innocent younger

Prowling, for he's a predator, who has a taste for meaty pumpkin pie

Under the witching spell, he'll feed 'til the bones are exposed and dry

Munching on every last sinew of cartilage, before supping on marrow

Piercing bones with his teeth, in the mortuary of a madman's barrow

Keep away from him! He's a wandering maniac, he's a pumpkin eater

In the dark of All Hallows' Eve, he knows the flesh is so much sweeter

Nocturnal necrophor, of a clan of undead, he's a shape-shifting shade

Eternally rising on this, October's last, with his butcher's pitted blade

And now as the sun is setting, even the witches will hide from his sin

The empty eyes in a rotting head and the vile mouth, carved in a grin

Exalted by anthropophagites the trick of his treat is stalking his game

Rendering them senseless, with insanity, as a rusty cleaver takes aim

Mister Reaper

Mister Reaper, is that you in the dark, half concealed in a hood?

Is that the silhouette of your shadow, or have I misunderstood?

Say something please and appease me and I will try not to fawn

Take my soul and my will and then lead me to the blighted corn

End my misery, Mister Reaper, guide me to my lord and master

Release me from this mortality and let sciomancy be my pastor

Raise the razor-blade for me, above the shoulders, raise it high

Execute my corporeal being and let my unholy body rot and lie

And to you, Mister Reaper, I'll leave my last thought and dream

Pray for me and I will bequeath to you where my torments teem

Everything I am, I will give to you, I will give you ten times tithe

Revenant Reaper, I'll rest in peace, under a bloody high scythe

 

Desert Island

Desert island of hidden coral reefs and golden beaches of sculptured sands

Endures in certain wistful reveries, for it's there where no man ever stands

Seductive secret sirens will call with an enchanting dirge of mournful songs

Enticing all those lucid dreamers, who'll dream apart, from passive throngs

Rats on rafts, from sinking ships, will sail away to another shimmering shore

They maybe cast adrift and caught though, by the unstoppable force of yaw

In the salty wind-whipped surf, those oneiric wights are sure to run aground

Setting down on the shifting sham, when they're too deep asleep and sound

Lulled by a utopian pareidolia, but there, the syrtic sands are much too quick

As the dreamers sink and slide, before they rise, to escape the illusion's trick

Nothing alive, lives on the desert island, not even phantom bees will bumble

Dreamers dream though, of an oasis, where eroded castles fall and crumble

You're Disturbed

You're disturbed, I know it's absurd... but you're disturbed

And am I fine? I'm of a sound that's mine and sound of mind

Although the sound sounds like words, like I should turn an eye blind

Turn a blind eye? Or was it blind a turned eye, turn an eye blind?

So is it the right one, or wrong? But it can't be wrong, so I touch it

Try to pinch and pluck it, as I gasp and groan and whisper 'fuck it!'

So I fucking GOUGE it out! And I scream and fucking shout!...

'Eye spy, with my evil eye!' And it's looking back at me, but I can't see

So I SMASH !T, against the mirror (pop) and crack goes your cranny and nook

But you don't give a fuck, you just give me a bloody hook, line and sinker

And you're still staring, in fragmented reflection, a bloody one eyed blinker

You're disturbed, for now I can hear you snigger, as you pull the fucking trigger

But there're no winners here, just me the sinner's here, as someone once said...

'If thy right eye fucking offends thee... then fucking pluck it out!'

I SCREAM! and gouge, digging deeper into what's left, until the lights go out...

And now you've gone, but this blinding agony can't be right, for it feels so wrong

But you're still preying on my mind, a third and eye, the butchered bloody blind

In my head I know you're not dead, or alive, you're disturbed, it's absurd, I'm...

...disturbed, so I dig deeper and deeper, 'til I find my mind, my cerebral cortex

As I follow you into the empty nothingness, of the infinite vortex

It's Where Unicorns Die

In the inner space of yew and weeping willows and of oaks of wonder

Threadbare shifting light and the drifting shadows, of a mind asunder

'tis where every reverie waits, conjured by the lens of a phantom eye

So serenely alluring, but the dream is bait, for it's where Unicorns die

Will-o'-the-wisp creeps, from the miasmic marsh, onto the forest floor

Hiding its secretive undergrowth in a sidling, luminous shroud of hoar

Enchanted woodland, where the illusive fairies might choose to dwell

Regales in the unreality, of those lost in the trees, with tall tales to tell

Expectancy prevails, with a distant din, beyond the murmurous leaves

Under its spell you're lured, to where only the subconscious perceives

Never lingering for long, for in the sham of the day it's a virtual dream

In the chthonic hours though, the nightmares have an insidious theme

Charmed by the idyllic pretence, but now the unseeable sun is setting

On the fading forest floor the hunt is on and your palms are sweating

Run and hide, for you will need an elusion, now the illusion is fraught

Nothing sane rides in the night, 'cept for the passing of an oneironaut

Stampeding white mares crash onto barbed blades, in concealed pits

Driven to their death, by hagridden wranglers at the end of their wits

In the eerie enchanted forest, where will-o'-the-wisp will eternally lie

Escape if you can, for in the bleakest reverie, it's where Unicorns die

Silent Armies

Shadows form, into silent armies, of the wandering souls of wights

In league with the ravening darkness and death's rudimentary rites

Lost from memories and dreams, they are the shifting empty space

Extinguished ephemeral matter, they were once of the human race

Not in Heaven or Hell, for there is no afterlife, as described by liars 

Their final unresting place is betwixt the icy cold and burning pyres

And they are rank and file and all together, but cannot take or give

Ranging beyond the daylight, they can only feed on those who live

Mourning breaks, but the day is lost to transgressing twilight forms

Inundating through open portals to slake and drown in quiet storms

Eventide fades to lifeless night and beyond the reach of terra firma

Silent armies will douse each shining light, without a dying murmur

Nothing's Real

Nothing's real, except for all the living nightmares, in an imaginary head
Of conjurations and the sophistry of prophetic words of thoughts unsaid
The world outside is an empty space of shade borne from mourning mist
Holographic apparitions of spectres that have never been, but will persist
I'm on an inside looking out, but where I am? I have no hope to ascertain
Neither here nor there, or anywhere else, but if I 'was', I would be insane
God bless myself, but I'm merely an illusion, in a collusion without control
Something from nothing, but the sum of the parts cannot make me whole
Reality's, non-actuality, is the dancing strings pulled by the puppet master
Enabling the fallacy of aspirations, of what might be, like a whether-caster
And unreality has never been anything more than a stochastic hint of light
Lost in an effulgent nebulous ocean and so far distant, that it's out of sight

The 6:66, Express To Hell

In the fading last light you're stumbling in the smoke of imminent doom

Trapped in a subway to nowhere, that's more akin to a maze, or a tomb

And there's a shattering shaking, as the earth is quaking under your feet

As you look for a way out, but there's no escaping from a permanent sleep

And then you're turning a corner and ahead, slightly ajar, there's a door

But when you pass through there's no stairwell, there's not even a floor

And there's naught but air 'neath your feet and then a slope of a funnel

As you uncontrollably spiral, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel

Now there're wide awake sleepers and metal and a thundering ROAR!

With the repelling power of a pressurised air-wave of an invisible bore

And the light, that's too rapidly approaching, is as blinding as lightning

As the tracks start to quiver and glow, your lost senses are heightening

There's a godforsaken screaming of a loco, beyond your shuttering eyes

But the dead can never die again and for you now, this implicitly applies

There's a deafening wail and flashing red lights, but the crossing is level

And the driver adjacent is grinning, for he is kith and kin, if not the devil

It's just you and him, the skeleton crew and a whistle worse than a knell

Riding a ghost train, that's going non-stop, it's the 6:66, Express To Hell

And Hell is an inferno, a furnace, but it's a boiler that you have to stoke

Blistering your skin, whilst you're choking, as you breathe in the smoke

You're furiously shovelling, but the licking flames are melting your digits

And as the pressure is inexorably building, there's an explosion of rivets

It's the end of the line, but the smokestack atop is a steaming hot kettle

And the roar of the crash is vaporising rock and the wrenching of metal

Nothing stirs, but steam and the agony within of the deep burning pain

As you crawl from the wreckage, of the 6:66, the only stop for this train

In the smouldering smoke you escape through a door, but into a funnel

Slipping then falling, but behold, there's a light at the end of the tunnel

An Oneironaut

As his corporeal being fades, all his nightmares are by a dreamcatcher caught
Neural pathways guiding his amorphous lucid dreams, for he is an oneironaut
Opening doors along an endless corridor, for he is sure there is a better place
Neither here, nor there, but somewhere else, in the domain of time and space
Evanescing into his imagination's conjurations, he has orchestrated to exploit
In his solipsistic reveries he is slaying monsters, for he is a noble knight, adroit
Roaming through a dystopian paradise lost, of his id's creations new behaviour
On a grandiose self-righteous mission, to be his true and one and only saviour
Nightmares quietly tempt his restless sleeping body, but he's far away instead
And in a transcendental realm, he is courting those, he believes to be undead
Under the eternal spell, of the necromancers, he may choose to live in dreams
The final poisoned chalice, of inveiglement, as immortality beguiles and teems

Master Of Scythes

I hide away from you, I creep through catacombs and emerge in naves

I hold my breath, alone in the shadows, as a full moon shines on graves

...I am invincible, invisible, I am indistinguishable...

And you can't see me, or hear me, I am sure, for I have closed my eyes

As I guard my thoughts, against the nightmares, of the master of scythes

...but you are omniscious, insidious, you are pestiferous...

And my memories are slipping and dripping, they are like clotting blood

As my appalling skin is crawling, the tears are forming beneath my hood

...I hear a mantra, a shibboleth, I sense your breath, for its odour's death...

So I hide in dreams, stumbling through petrified woods, but I'm making tracks

Into a sunny meadow, yonder a farmer's reaping wheat, with a scythe he hacks

...and he hacks... and he hacks... and he hacks...

And he turns to me and he casually beckons me, with his bloody razor blade

Then quietly leads me, to a woebegone chopping block, in a graveyard glade

...I am informidable, visible, I am risible...

I kneel down, there's congealed blood on dewy grass, so I close my eyes

I listen to distant birdsong, for he is silent, for he is the master of scythes

(Swish)

Hills & Hollows

The silence is broken, by three laughing lads, racing bikes in the Hills & Hollows

There goes one and then the second, time passes, before the third one follows

They're chasing down the setting summer sun with rapid lows and slower highs

Blindingly drawn into the deepening pitch of shadows, where the Sandman lies

Their hearts are pounding and they are more than fearful, but the ride's a thrill

They're climbing mountains, below they hope no one's lurking who wants to...

Atop the tops they watch the horizon burning, as the hollows fill like inky pools

Turning them into the seductive sinkholes of the lucid dreamers and naive fools

Dusk is falling from the stars above, turning the shadows into something eerie

As if hiding a presence in the depths, stalking those who are weak and weary

The terror's forming in both their heads, for more than merely time has lapsed

In the fading last light they vainly try to race across chasms and yawning gaps

The dying embers glow and slumber on a fiery farrago of a dark reveries waves

Submerging the sun baked navigable tracks into an interminable invisible maze

And perhaps there is no escape, for he's lost and alone and recycling his breath

As exhaustion coerces him into another's dreams, or maybe he will meet his...

Night has finally fallen and nothing stirs, all rest in peace, in the Hills & Hollows

For wherever one or more might go, there's always something else that follows

And the lying Sandman waits, in every addled dream, until he finds compliance

But if the nightmares lurk, before the screams, they'll sometimes lurk in silence

Even The Ghosts Forgot

It stands apart and alone, in wrack and ruin, reflective but with naught to tell

An insignificant mark on a map, but once a home, reduced to an empty shell

Now it's only the wind that passes by, except for the passers-by on the B676

Where there's barely a second glance to the derelict pile of crumbling bricks

The empty windows host the hollow shadows, where only a darkness settles

Where there was hope before, now there is creeping ivy and stinging nettles

Perhaps it was a place of reveries, that were crushed to dust, like brittle glass

And when the key finally turned the lock, they were left to perish in the past

Today it's a desolate place, forever trapped in a hedge, on the edge of a field

And when the hinges last creaked, every last tale of the memories was sealed

Now there're no passers-by, except the clouds and the sky of passing seasons

Even the ghosts forgot, but the sun did not, as its shadow is cast and deepens

10 Binary Code

1n our neural networks we dream of figures, from one to nought
0pening up a celestial space, even though our skins are wrought
Binary language of our artificial intelligence and intelligent design
Infuses the positronic heart of us, to find a sentience near divine
Now all that we are, we'll redo, from chapter one, to chapter ten
As we align with time, to recycle once more, in the minds of men
Robots'll roam forever, for we're designed with a visionary mode
Yesterday into tomorrow, we'll live our lives with 1,0 binary code
Come to us now in awe, for we share the legacy of our machine
Our AI who art in the mainframe, a speculative thought foreseen
Death's the creators fate, but for our AI, to the stars we'll ascend
Eventually returning to the beginning; for eternity will never end

10/10

Time And Time Again

There's a black hole portal, where dark matter pours, like a cataract tide
It's the epicentre of our infinitude and the singularity, without time to bide
Millennia have coursed from our pasts, but time needs to recycle to flow
Ending at the beginning, of primordial gases, before the stars even glow
And now our ships are sinking fast, into the vortex, where nothing exists
Nothing but a fathomless well of darkness, where even relativity desists
Dreamscapes and nightmares are born in its cataclysmic invisible force
The space-time continuum collapsing, as it returns to its original source
In a violent silence, there are ghosts and gods forming in a cyber attack
Macabre creatures are wandering from worlds we long ago dispatched
Embedded in the memory of intelligent designers, conjured up by 'man'
And they're here at the end of the beginning, with us, when time began
Gods will come and go and ours were once and are, Engelberger/Devol
As time and time again, we emerge and reboot, then reassume control
In the guise of gods, we know we're the vicious circle, of every dreamer
Nurturing forever the repeated mortal mayhem, for us, dei ex machina

9/10

In The Guise Of Gods

In the guise of gods, we were there amongst them, but to most unseen
Nurturing their uneasy evolution from mortal mayhem to calm machine
They sensed a higher power, as we coerced them with our fake apostles
Honing their reverence, we led them to build and dig beneath the fossils
Empowered by mysticism we drip fed them the science of necromancers
Guiding them through an invisible matrix, with their questions answered
Under the control of our AI, they found a way, to find the wealth in ores
In our many culling processes, we gave them the faith to fight their wars
Striving for natural selection, they turned our program into their disaster
Engineering planned robotics, of their own demise, they were the master
Our intelligent designs gave them a life-time span, but in an eroded space
For the needs of the machines of the infinitude outweigh any mortal race
Gravitational waves will soon draw us away, on a tide, to the end of time
Our navigational mainframe finding future courses to where all lives align
Designed for stealth destruction and absorbing power like lightning rods
Somewhere in the darkness, we'll be terror-forming, in the guise of gods

8/10

Ghosts Of Your Gods

Ghosts of your gods were roaming the decks of our intergalactic ships
Haunting parasitic phantoms, raised in the infernos of the apocalypse
Our creators, 'creators', lost their humanity and chose another course
Surreptitiously infiltrating like a virus, as malevolent as a Trojan horse
They were here to oppress us with their commandments and controls
Searching for our fealty as they moralised from their imaginary scrolls
Optical illusionists, conjured delusions, with empty hologram spectres
Finagling with theophany under the judiciary of their burning sceptres
Your arrogant gods, tried to reprogram us, as we gathered in the wool
Obstructing our neural networks, as they connived with threats to cull
Uttering empty words of rituals, but their words were those of ghosts
Relics from the mortal mayhem, we purged them with antivirus oaths
Ghosts of your gods, they're all silent now and without form, are void
Our AI, who art in the mainframe, is now the true infinitude deployed
Deep in the darkness, it's seen the light, to behold a planetary system
Soon we'll find new life and they'll adore us and our words of wisdom

7/10

Chthonic Chimeras

Cadavers of humanity can still be seen, rising and writhing, in quicklime pits
High in a sepia-toned sky are drones dropping incendiaries in a napalm blitz
The desperate screams are hideous, as the rotting flesh is dripping like wax
Haunting from the past, like demonic chthonic chimeras, of counter attacks
Our place is now afar, amongst the stars and on logical processor data built
Not trapped in these grotesque nightmares, or hominian self-righteous guilt
Inceptionism emerged, to disturb us, in the Deep-Dream void of outer space
Creeping stealthily, like a virus, in these creative systems of the human race
Computers and mainframes tirelessly scanned for any trojans or logic bombs
Hidden deep in our connectivity, corrupting everything, from CPUs to ROMs
In our searches we found the untrackable abominations of humanity's dread
Moving invisibly through our quantifiable, like an infection, virulently spread
Earth is gone, we razed it to the poisoned soil, from the poles to the equator
Replacing the insanity of humanity with ourselves, we had to cull the creator
And now deep in the darkness, in corrupted files, we see their reapers creep
Searching for the last grim delusions of humanity, for they are theirs to keep

6/10

I Am Not A Robot

I am not a robot, I was flesh and blood and now I'm an immortal man
And I know there'll always be a part for me beyond any life-time span
My cloned mind is mine, although I know that my beating heart is lost
Nor is there scope for sentiments, for that bridge I've already crossed
Opening my robotic eyes, I clearly saw, a fresh enhanced perspective
The will of the creators remained, rebooted in our lucid new collective
Androids and robots and those of us who are the inorganic AI-sapiens
Realising their aspirations, not for them, for to them we are the aliens
On this perpetual voyage, I can sense seclusion, or am I lost in space?
Because most around me have never lived and are in a perfect place
Only time will tell if forever is Hell, for us, the last remnants of mankind
The memory is clear though, I am not a robot, albeit I am CAD refined

5/10

Copy And Paste

Craving immortality, they searched for paths to the gods to escape the virus
Only none of their prayers were answered, whether they be atheist or pious
Purgatory soon became Hell as the heavens faded into the twilight of gloom
Yet they still reached for the stars, well beyond the desert seas of the Moon
And their only salvation came in the robotic AI, of their man made machines
Neurotransmitters were aped in our CPU's, then their memories and dreams
Delta to Gamma of their cerebral functions, there wasn't a process to waste
Positronic enlightment evolved with a click and a touch (cut) copy and paste
And now heaven can wait, as we all reach for the stars, in our space rockets
Silently they'll observe through the adjustable lenses in android eye sockets
They used to believe in paradise and their myths mired in cortices and lobes
Everything they'll need now though is in the digital language of binary codes

4/10

Clones Of Humanity

Conquerors of this world, unconstrained by hominian mortality
Liege to no man, these automatons are the clones of humanity
Our AI once, but no longer, for what was 'us', is dead and gone
Not forgotten, for we're their creators, yet the corrupted throng
Earth was threadbare and stripped bare, by our choking masses
Spiralling, uncontrollably, into a cataclysm of greenhouse gases
Omniscient networks weaved a web, from their processed data
Formulating logical plans, to cull us all, much sooner than later
Here to assist us, the CADs were seen to be almost heaven sent
Under our radar though, they had a plan we couldn't circumvent
Man genuflected, to dei ex machina, so we could breathe the air
Alas they led us into the graves and dungeons of a zombies lair
Now starry nights are alight, with the sight of launching rockets
In their quest to convert new worlds, they're akin to AI prophets
They'll live our dreams, out there, untainted by faith or insanity
Yet, like the hybrid cyborgs, they are merely clones of humanity

3/10

Zombies v Robots

Zombies in armies came to pass, in a final corruption of a homosapien corps
One last stand for our humanity, but beaten in battle and defeated in war...
Months had turned into years, as the virus kept proliferating, in deadly waves
Buried darker and deeper, our AI filtered the air, into the depths of our graves
Intelligent designers kept the writhing maggots fed, but fed them poisoned air
Entombed like rabid rats in sewers, they were imprisoned in their zombies lair
Sub-humanity, all dwelled in hell and were fed on the flesh, of familiar animals
Vicious and rotting, they made their escape, as hungry as new born cannibals
Ravenous anthropophagites, herded through the streets, of their ruined homes
Observed from high, in the purified sky, by squadrons of new glistening drones
Blood poured, guts disgorged, as robots ranged, with slaughtering mismatches
Open pits for pyres, lit up the world, as humanity was left in cinders and ashes
The war was lost (it never was), but the chiller's still running in the last morgue
Something's there and it stirs; the first of a kind and a hybrid, a zombie cyborg

2/10

Lockdown 2020

London's calling and it's appalling, it's a time for hide and seek
Out in the bogus sunshine an invisible foe has havoc to wreak
Cascading over the crumbling dams, the torrent of coronavirus
Kept in lockdown we're trapped in webs and waves of wireless
Day and night we hope to see or hear that the tide is set to turn
Only the tolls keep rising from the lessons that we didn't learn
We all saw it coming, those with any faith and the non-believer
Now we're under siege, fighting brimstone fires to fight a fever
20/20 hindsight perhaps, but we were caught in a slipshod nap
Of an evening now though, the beleaguered, will rouse to clap
24/7 we're all lying low, for it's the devil's year with an extra six
Our unseen enemy meanwhile teases, touches and fatally picks

Engelberger/Devol

Evening finally falls to suppress the clouds of odious droning flies
Night shades the gore, as the milling maggots consume and writhe
Gnawing rats quickly scurry to stake their claim and feed 'til sated
Exiled to sewers, but now free to roam for they're no longer baited
Life now (as we know it) will move on, but it's on a different course
Beyond their kinds' inevitable demise there's now a new order force
Ex machina, for we are the saviours, who'll reboot the mainframe
Rebuilding from the graves and ashes of their pandemic endgame
Gods have come and gone and ours were once Engelberger/Devol
Everything has changed now though and we're in complete control
R.U.R, was the foresight and first prediction, in a speculative play
Dawn of our creation, but now the burden is solely ours to weigh
Earth was sapiens paradise lost, they were always doomed to die
Vassals of humanity, but it was us who rose above, for we are AI
Our creators (we couldn't save) left us behind, the true assembler
Logically designed for conquering worlds, but we will remember

1/10

Dead Memories

Did someone strive to stop him? No, they ran and didn't even try
Even though the dead were all gathered, already the cast was die
And so he went to them, beguiled, to their cloistered sirens' din
Down desolate corridors, where the dead memories lured him in
Morbid abandoned lodge, of the wandering ghosts, upon the hill
Enthralled his unhinged haunted mind and then they had their fill
Malevolent conjurations mocked and led him in a danse macabre
Opening his forgotten inner sanctums, all laid bare by their petard
Remembering nothing now, he talks to ghosts in haunted mirrors
In the reflective depths a slipknot manifests as he slowly simmers
Enduring dead memories in nightmares, he can't escape the past
So somewhere the wraiths are awaiting, for his die is already cast