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...

Jack-O'-Lantern

Jack-O'-Lantern is aglow on this night, like will-o'-the-wisp
As the wicked witches cast the spells of their black magic tryst
Cackling old hags from a dimension that should never be seen
Kindred spirits of the ghouls and the creeps of this Halloween
Over an open fire a cauldron's oil boils every butchered part
Liver and guts, the eyes and the brains and a still beating heart
As they worship in a pentacle with their blades tainted red
Nefarious necromancers calling on the lost souls of the dead
The Jack-O'-Lantern's mouth is agape, for it once had a name
Empty eye sockets are alight, inside there is a flickering flame
Run for your life, trick or treat, but there is no looking back
No one is safe, who can't escape, when the only magic is black

Echoes

Am I blessed or cursed, or should I be aghast?

For those veiled voices are from futures passed

But the dreams are worse for then I'm an invisible man

And though I can see them there I cannot bridge the span

In the quiet hours of the moonlight's cataract shimmer

In a semi-conscious haze I sense the threshold's thinner

And I want to be there under a rainbow's parhelic circle

In that elusive paradise where there is nothing hurtful

They are there, I know, where nothing's planned

But the echoes confound, as time pours like sand

There's nowhere to cross and every path's a maze

Along which I might wander until the end of days

Perhaps I can escape in dreams and find a door

To enter a new world where there is no before

And when I'm there I'll be heard and seen in focus

Beyond the reach of time and my own neurosis

I'm lost in my darkest reveries where I know I'm trapped

But there is no past or present, for in these dreams I'm rapt

So I'll hush now, for those distant echoes will be here soon

And perhaps tonight's the night I'll be guided by the moon

Horrid Lore

Have the flaming pits of Hell been forever in your every thought?
Or perhaps in a loop of nightmares is where you're permanently caught
Raising the wraiths and the phantoms and the faceless spectres
Restless malevolent dreamscape creatures and black plague vectors
In that empty place of your heart, you know you're the Devil's whore
Drenched in the blood of humanity and a disciple of the horrid lore
Lingering in death, not living at all, for it's the scythe you'll always wield
Over the fearful massed mortals, who will inevitably weep and yield
Razor the blade will pare the somatic from their bleeding souls
Each and every last one of them, forever yours, to burn on coals

Wyndham Lodge (A Home For Ghosts)

Wandering, he's still wondering and the Colonel always will
Yesterday and tomorrow, in Wyndham Lodge, on Ankle Hill
Never alone, for there're others there, within the bricks and mortar
Dormant and cloaked, until they approach, like insanity's stalker
He is the quintessence of 'haunted', a presence who roams in silence
And with him now are the godforsaken phantoms of an old alliance
Maudlin souls, they possess, for they are the gathered dead
Long lost to the world of humanity and by the Colonel led
Outside and within, those of flesh and blood, strip away the rot
Disturbing the shades in shadows, but perturbing them not a jot
Gone for now, but their opaque proximity will always ebb and flow
Easily drifting unencumbered, back and forth, in the last lights glow
And the Colonel's forever there, from eerie attic to oppressive cellar
His gift the lodge once, but now with the others, a hallowed dweller
Optical illusion or delusion, but many saw more than just his trace
Meandering along the corridors and landings, now a man of wraiths
Empty buildings were abandoned at the end of an ascending drive
For too long forgotten and only fit for the dead, not for those alive
Others sought this place of sanctuary and 'tis now a home for ghosts
Renegade twilight apparitions whom the Colonel, in petto, hosts
Gregarious are the dead, for two stragglers heard their chatter
Halfway somewhere, someplace, though it really didn't matter
Ousted, they escaped from a place where they could not belong
Stealth-like the silence, as they departed and were finally gone
The Colonel still wonders, as he wanders and he always will
Surrounded by those of the past and the new folk, on Ankle Hill