Tuesday, March 23, 2010

his farewell

I slit my wrists and let them bleed
to pour out all my pain
The red pool gathering upon my feet
won’t wash away with rain
My tears never stop
They cascade down my face
It is time to take the toll
And pour my life down a hole
Never looking back
Never regretting it
Give away my soul
It is broken
Painted black

Monday, March 22, 2010

Sometimes in despair I worry

Forget what is unpleasant
Ignore what bothers you
Don’t think about the madness
That has accompanied our fall
But the murder of a few
here and there
cannot be ignored
The ravens see it all
Even if our mind’s won’t deplore
They remember
They remember
Some people ignore this world
Try to exist some way
Some still hear a call
Some still wear the veil
Waiting for the groom to come
Even though we fail
In despair I worry that
Jesus won’t come back
seeing all we’ve done
There’s no hope for us
We’re worse than when we’d begun
Why bother to try when
there is so much that can’t be cleaned
And the one who can by his blood
just won’t
We cannot go back
The ashes of the ovens of humanity
Pouring out of smoke that kills
We stopped wondering
We just die and we choke

Sunday, March 21, 2010


9,10 November 1938
The night of broken glass
From a spark went a flame
Hatred knew few bounds
From throwing stones and rocks
To hunting Jews with Hounds
Violence in the street
Pure condensed hate
Anti Jewish pograms
Seeking to exterminate
Seeking to eliminate
"Lebensunwertes Leben"
Nazism the disease
Without a curative answer
Hatred is the cause
Hatred is the cancer

Monday, March 15, 2010

Town of Sorrow

Our ship entered the port in early Spring
There was no movement to be seen
In the entire town
We moved forward and docked
The snow was lightly coming down
But for dogs barking there was no sound
It wasn’t so cold like Winter, but chilling
The winds blew softly but constantly
And still not a soul was moving
The town was almost serene
We made our way through the town
Shields and spears ready
For anything coming our way
But there were no fires in the hearth
No foot steps upon the snow
The town was ghostly
Almost as if we were the first
To step foot there,
Breaking unbroken ground
And then we found the church
Filled we imagined with gold
From altar pieces to ink on books
We broke open the doors and saw
What our eyes would never want to see
A village worth of people
Dead from starvation and plague
Piled upon each other
From pew to steeple

Bound by you

You are a kiss upon my lips
A razor to my wrist
A dance before dying
The truth before lying
You are music to my soul
Bells that never toll
But I still can’t see my way
I still can’t get away
From the pains of existence
My body resists breath
My dying aging flesh
So I can’t run to a new place
Death holds me in tender embrace
You hold the key
In your hands
To the lock upon my chains
Will you set me free?
Will you take the chance

Sunday, March 14, 2010


They live in the forests
Dark but filled with light
They dance in the meadows
Under the moon, in deepest night
They live in the shallows
In the deep where it is cold
They live in the glens
Untempted like man for gold
They live without guile
Without desires for things
They sit upon rocks and idle
While singing
About glorious beauty
We should be more like them
We should throw away
All of our discontentment
But we won't,
such a shame

(Art by Edwin Austin Abbey and Alan Lee, no copyright infringement is intended)

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Return to the Mountains of Madness

There was nothing that could have stopped them
They were not of this world
We were sent to discover things
Not to die as meat or sacrifice
Their voices will haunt me
The rest of my existence
More than the cold or ice
I am frozen inside
Their voices were unintelligible
Their screams were inhuman
And there is only death and horror
Remaining, my memories remain
The horror relives again
In the cold there was no comfort
The voyage long and soaked in rain
But I returned to Arkham
Fighting to remain sane

Poem by William Dyer


Following the paper submitted by William Dyer, professor of Miskatonic University’s disastrous Pabodie Expedition to Antarctica in 1930–31, numerous attempts have been made to ascertain the depth of veracity in the paper. Unquestionably there is something that happened, but what exactly we are uncertain. So it is with some excitement and hope, that we announce that we intend to send a new expedition, armed well, and with the most modern of equipment...

Friday, March 5, 2010

Terminal Evidence Of Life

We fall down, crying
Remembering our lives
Seeing them dying
Who are we to think
We are anything more
Than the dust that blows
Through the final door

Every death is a moment of time
We forget who we are, as the clock unwinds
We see ourselves as fading
We dream of our past
And the dead live inside us
As we forget to live
This world begs our favor
But we relinquish that fate
Our destiny too foreboding
Our dreams we savor
Our greed insatiate
We fear our lives will fade
Disappear, stop
Quicker than they took to create

We are the living
Though we rarely live but exist
We are the present
But the echoes of the past persist
We are the future
God help me to see
Life is more than insisting
Or resisting our fate
It is a jubilee