Children of the Netherworld

From a dark netherworld
where a black sun rises
where the moon is forever eclipsed
from an airless void
where a dingy, cloying breeze
enshrouds rather than blows by
and cold still air
touches one's spine
with chilly fingers

through unlit corridors
winding into infinity
filled with the rank odour
of decaying souls
the putrescence
of sanity long dead

Children are born
sages in pink tender skin
babies older than life
wailing darksongs
screaming for their first taste of blood

A latent violent force
waiting patiently
like a lion stalking prey
waiting for a little more strength
a little more mobility and
a gun.

Time Bomb

Tick...
Tock...
Tick...
Tock..
Tick...

Every five minutes or so
I glance at the clock

Tock...
Tick...
Tock...
Tick...
Tock...

Every five minutes or so
hell waits to receive another soul

Tick...

Upheavals

I'll stir up the waters
of my soul

I'll dip my hand
into the bubbling waves
and stir
then I'll pull out the plug
and watch it drain away

Away to darker, deeper depths
where nothing matters
except - perhaps -
discovering light
or further darkness

In the eye of the whirlpool
what would I find but
flotsam, jetsam
and other rubbish like myself
pulled down together
by gravity's force

rubbish in a rainswept gutter
following the flow
of a water demon
down to murky, watery darkness

I am not lost
I belong here.

Passiontide

Here I stand
misty eyed
amidst swirling water-cloud

I ache where I was fed
I ache more
where I was wounded

My head swirls
with the water-cloud
I ache...