Posts Tagged ‘Evil’

There’s something under my bad,
A shadowy ghoul,
I hear it,
As I bang my head against the wall of sleep,
My duvet a cushy restraint,
Complicit in this uneasy atmosphere,
The thing slinks from one end of the bed to the other,
With the mad grace of a fish out of water,

I’ve never seen it,
But it smells of dust and sulphur,
I hear it every night,
It clicks unknowable limbs in revolting movements,
Scuffling about and giggling to itself,
Speaking in ornery tongues,
Alien fangs gnawing on fingernails,
Rustling against the bedframe with oily hair or scales,

I do wonder if it ever peeks out,
I dare not look,
But when I close my eyes finally,
I feel palpable vision upon me.

There was a man I heard tales of,
In social circle upon social circle,
I heard tell of a cold-blooded man,
Below a watery facade he waits,
An aquatic veneer to see through,
Sugared words and a smile a touch too perfect,
As deceptively fluid as the swamps of hot musk,
A migrating carnivore of every social savanna,

Holding reptilian eyes upon you,
Yellow-green hunger,
Scaly avarice,
Coolly waiting,
Leaning against a pillar martini in hand,
But trust not those crocodile tears,
Do not trust that crooked grin,
Do not get close to the waters surface,

He is a predator,
A user,
Prowling for a useful antelope,
And when he goes for what he wants,
You will find it doesn’t favour you,
It will be all gore and bubbles,
Thrashing and tearing,
Heart and nerves rent out.

Sweating in the southern humidity,
There is a dead soul walking,
Waist deep in stinking brackish water,
Inspirited by the morning bourbon,
Gummy peacemaker in hand,
On the search for the devil himself,
Wanted dead or alive,

Amongst numberless drowned reeds,
Even a dead man can feel agony,
This swamp is a mad undertakers dream,
There are worse critters than mosquitoes,
These waters have teeth,
Scaly cold-blooded demons and wandering corpses,
Both would drag our hunter to a fetid end,

The bounty hunter wades gutsily ahead,
But the devil has other ideas,
The swamp rebels at each step the hunter takes,
Filthy waves advance and a ghostly banjo yelps,
The clamour of a rattlesnake intensifies,
At the behest of Lucifer himself,
The bayou seeks to claim another between its jaws.

The angels lied,
The stars are falling,
A starscape and horizon afire,
A conflagrant deluge of feathers,
My fellow parasites have already fled to the chapels,
Tipsy on bread and wine,

But I stand here a heretic,
My only friend,
A goat with a thousand eyes,
Veiled in sulphurous musk,
He told me to escape to hell,
That salvation rested in cavernous limbo,

The devil would never lie,
So with blistered hands I dig,
A garden of mundane dirt,
No longer a lawn,
Mocked by a charred hanging tree,
Encircled by worm-riddled picket,

As you regard this pagan,
You think me mad,
My countenance screams so,
Mayhap I am,
I smolder endlessly now,
But I escaped your holy apocalypse.

It’s a part of us all,
That electricity that jolts between our neurons,
The programming behind all of our essences,
A puppet master invisible to all,
An unpatched bug in our enlightenment,
Our intended nature is predetermined,
We are meant to be beasts,
Gorging on every habitat,

We try to deny it of course,
But we are animals at our cores,
Primates playing at angels,
Chimps in Einstein wigs,
Slinging feces around stock markets,
We are meant to fight and bloodily compete,
We are meant to overpopulate,
We are meant to consume,

We think ourselves an advanced species,
Shepherds of the planet,
But our programming obliges to use our environment,
And we have done so on an industrial scale,
Our supposed evolutionary superiority is a barbers blade,
Some struggle against our nature,
To lighten the asphyxiation of Earth,
But the damage may already be too great.

There are some out there who spew not speak,
Those whose throats writhe skittishly with a million little creatures,
Not words,
Just torrents of insects,
A plague of locusts in vowels and tones,
Ravaging the target of their utterances,

From a maw liveried in spiders web,
Come wasps and hornets with malicious style,
Accusations and threats on wings,
Ants and termites boring into your ears,
You feebly bat at them with refuting arguments,
Only to be buffeted anew at greater buzzing sonority,

These peoplr do not intend to debate,
Only to feed upon your angst,
Like a rural field stripped bare,
They do not wish to share wisdom,
But to feast upon you with verbal mandibles,
To feed the vermin host of their tongues.

In a realm birthed by crystals,
A world beyond the fantastic,
Governed by magick and beings of eld,
Where life is threatened oftentimes by demon and beast alike,
And the cruel darkness thirsts for souls,

Here fight warriors of no martial proclivity,
No axes or blades in hand,
But command respect nevertheless,
For they wield an ancient power,
A magic of primal energy,

A gesture of arcane will,
And a seized fragment of godly power,
These summoners can call down the very fires of hell,
Raise up the fury of the earth you walk,
And rend asunder foes with gales blades,

These forces come from elemental ire,
Passions from gods of fire and storm,
Restrained and wielded by these magi in green regalia,
Heroes who bring the elements to bear against darkness,
For the good of Eorzea.

I have a torture chamber of my own making,
It rests within a cranial centre,
Containing all manner of devious racks and thumb screws,
My skull is the iron maiden it rests within,
Rusted spikes implied by self-esteem,
Nicking and piercing at cruel intervals,

I cannot escape this chamber,
It’s in my head,
I am tied soundly upon this breaking wheel,
Cracking my own limbs and jaw,
I can only scream internally though,
This torture is for me only,

In their masochistic inquisition,
My thoughts crank up the restriction upon this rack,
Foul ichor oozing from my gullet,
In the form of “I’m okay!”,
Lies brought forth through torture,
Cries for help in vile pools on the floor.

We are well off the map right now,
Far beyond the vigil of the compass,
The epitome of inhospitability,
Stalked by blizzards and hungry things,
There is no day and night,
Only biting ivory,
Torrential cold thorns from an empty sky,

Upon the alpine fields of snow,
Hemming us in like trapped seals,
Lay countless bones of victims both human and livestock,
Fodder for maws that know no sating,
And footprints of collosal proportion,
We still hear the quakes,
Though that too could be our throes of fear,

There are horrid things here,
Primeval beings of feral glamour,
Walking titans of dank fur and sinew,
Possessed of hunger no natural thing should,
Unabated by the encroaching white tempest,
Weathering it forlornly in their hunt,
Their hunt for us,

And as the roof of our shelter is ripped skyward,
We know the trolls have found us,
The next moment will be all screams and teeth.

Aboard this airship of rigging and iron,
A wrecked vessel of steam and gunpowder,
We are pirates of the stratosphere,
Scorching a tyrannical smile across the skies,
Spying our next lost mark,
Our next banquet of blood and swag,

Amidst cranking gears and screeching pistons,
Both vessel and crew are shrouded in man-made fog,
Half-mad and mostly intoxicated,
We are heavily armed corvids of crime,
Come to pick clean the iron bones of helpless shipping,
Errantly the pilot guns the behemoths engine,

So load you brass pistol,
Fasten your goggles,
Brandish your hungering cutlass,
And take this rope,
Swing onwards to glory and riches,
Or a hundred mile drop to oblivion.