Dirge Of The Dead

Do you hear somewhere, in the darkness, the sirens' song?
It's a pure and enrapturing choir, beyond mortality's throng
Rendering the blackest incantations, of a bewitching spell
Ghostly ephemeral, juxtaposed to a sagacious solemn knell
Each restless night's, unending passage, of troubled dreams
Opens the potential portals, of unnerving post-life themes
For those enchanting charms are by dark lamentations led
They are lifeless threnodies, they are the dirge of the dead
Hauntingly seductive and as alluring, as an umbra's clutch
Every note of conjuration is a caress of the othersides touch
Dystopian nightmares merge, where demons die in its thrall
Evaporating like misty phantoms under the approaching pall
And beyond ethereal psalms are seas of silence to be among
Do you hear them now, or are you already where you belong?

Oblivion

Life is measured in time, before it eventually slips

Like the fading last light of a permanent eclipse

As dusk turns to dark the shadows grow deeper

Past the last place of the unconscious lost sleeper

It was physically formed and then linearly aligned

But soon to be nowhere, like the passing of time

And nowhere is no place, there's nothing to share

It's not another dimension of a theory or prayer

Life slips away easily in the void of the sense-less

Into a vortex beyond any 'imaginable' consensus

Not a depth or a length from an invisible surface

Not any kind of space for an impossible purpose

It's not simple or complex, obvious or labyrinthian

It's the eternal white hole of the soul, it's: Oblivion

Purgatory's a state and it's not the perdition of Hell

Or even the sense of free falling into an infinite well

It's 'never' forever, it's an untouchable entity

Without any inkling of a perceptible identity

Life slips away constantly off an improbable edge

Into the silence of a non-place of colourless dread

It's an unseeable lightfall of inaudible sounds

And with nothing to feel, in nothing it drowns

In a crystal clear sea of a primordial formation

Far from the concept of any sentient creation

And without the imaginary line of a meridian

There is nothing at all, there is only: Oblivion

It's always for-never, it's deeper than sleep

Where everything goes the shadows can't creep

Heaven has gone and there're no angels or reaper

And no way back to find a conscious lost sleeper

Time can't elapse, therefore time has never passed

And when nothing exists the boundless is amassed

There was never a 'now', there'll never be a 'when'

For what's slipped away before will slip away again

Until every last trace of even an aura's relinquished

For in the untouchable dark every star is extinguished

When genesis is void there's just an infinity surplus

The desolate non-space of an impossible purpose

And when all has passed in a corporeal dominion

There's nothing to imagine, for all is: Oblivion...

So imagine it now, a picture in the eye of your mind

Perhaps an empty white space is the image you'll find

Imagine the nothingness of the untouchable entity

The unavoidable concept of your subliminal enmity

For beyond light is the night, a darkness like obsidian

And it's waiting for you, but it's nowhere, it's: Oblivion

Some Other Monster

The prose below; well, it's almost definitely not about me...

There's no guilt in my mirror to see; it's some other monster...

A frigid monster that needs to find what makes you tick

When it touches and tantalises you and makes you slick

One a second rising and maybe more when you're excited

Maybe quicker still in a fevered climax that's unrequited

It's not about a memory of mine, there is no reflection...

I'm sure it's about somebody else, who cannot be sectioned...

A somebody, or something, that will coldly pare you apart

It will splice and dice you, until it finds your bleeding heart

For it will be there, in the dark of the night, at your behest

As it caresses you with fingernails ready for a razor's quest

It's not about me, for I'm sure I've not been alive forever...

It's about a malevolent creature, probably undead but clever...

In a procaine haze it will split your sternum when you've given up

And it will hold your icy heart and from an artery it will gladly sup

It will drain you dry and take your will, but it will be sure to suture

And without any reflection, you will be trapped in forever's future

The prose above; well, please tell me that it's not about me...

And it's about a monster I'm unable to see; some other monster...

She's Stalked By Her Insanity

Somewhere in a cold dark place, deep down and dead
Her aroused insanity gorged as the pompous feeders fed
Every egocentric medium, of every shamanic sham
Seduced and fooled her and didn't give a tinker's damn
She's stalked by her insanity and she lives with lies
The impossible quests behind her corrupted guise
And now she's sure she talks to those who've passed
Leaving no room for doubt, there're no questions asked
Keepers of the imaginary charm with delusional candour
Evoking reunion beyond death, for they choose to pander
Dreamscape phantoms inveigled her with beguiling hope
Biding their time to guide her through the mystical trope
Yesterday has been and gone and it cut her like a knife
Her sorrow deepened and now she needs tomorrow's life
Every nightmare's a haunting memory and is there to coax
Reflected in the smoke and mirrors of a utopian hoax
In a full moon phase she will talk to no one with eyes ablaze
Not knowing that she's meandering through an endless maze
She's stalked by her insanity, it's gradually getting closer
An unyielding ominous presence that's in need of closure
Nothing matters though, turn the cards, it's crystal clear
Inside her head she's now with those that she holds dear
There's a place, cold and dark, where she hides the facts
Yet she was last seen wandering on moonstruck tracks

New Year's Eve

Nothing's changing, for it's only time that's passing
Every tick of the clock though is the past amassing
With everything eventually there is nowhere to go
Years will always melt away like sun-drenched snow
Elapsing unseen, for it's eternally an intangible state
As the burden of time becomes an unbearable weight
Running like an underground river it's hard to perceive
'tis marked though, by this old date, of new year's eve
Somewhere, in the darkness, there is an invisible line
Ending what was, for the now, our intelligent design
Vagarious memories will remember our fanciful ways
Everything's fleeting though, until the end of our days

Santa's Dead

Santa's dead (ho ho no!) his head took a bullet
And his white locks soon turned to a claret mullet
Naught survived, with all his reindeer butchered
They were sleighed, when their guts were ruptured
Alas Santa was savagely felled, 'twas his final hurdle
Somewhere cold, is his grave, beyond the Arctic Circle
Decembers will now come and go and we'll fake the news
Even though Santa was murdered, we'll hide the clues
And let's not tell the children, they don't need to know
Dasher and his deer friends died with Santa in the snow

Into 'The Darkness' Within

...and this trench is my grave, framed by a shell burst

An empty pit, save for the lost soul of a ghost cursed

And I can sense its sodden soil upon my rotting skin

Not even a rat is wandering; into 'the darkness' within

A whistle blew and I went over the top, as planned

And now I'm somewhere in the dark in no man's land

Slogging through the mud and ankle deep in the shit

Lost in a noxious gossamer fog (I'm in the thick of it)

I'm grasped by cutting barbs, that dig in, then shred

I try to escape, but I realise I'm going nowhere instead

And it's so cold and I'm bitter and chilled to the bone

But I'm trapped, like a rat, in a fetid bog that was loam

Now there's a flare in the air and it's burning bright

Illuminating this nowhere place from black to white

So I look around, for I need to see what I can see

But there is no one else here, there is only me...

...on my knees between the lines in a muddy mire

Being torn asunder by the rusty barbs of coiled wire

And I'm praying I'm not prey caught in the crosshairs

But I've lost my faith and I don't believe God cares

There's a report of a shot and a sickening... THUD!

And I know it's the end for there's blood in the mud

My sight is waning and I'm paralysed in novocaine skin

And now the angel is fading; into 'the darkness' within...