Posts Tagged ‘monsters’

Life can be a market street,
Neon and sin in equal measure,
Glitzy lights mask the horrors behind,
Roads teeming with snake oil salesmen,
Moral vampires hiding in alleyways,
Vulturine hounds slavering for hours of your life,
You need to keep your chequebook shut and turn away,
Despite their honeyed words,
They do not mean well,

They are artists of heartbreak,
Painting red skies and earthquakes,
Architects of every inferno under the sun,
You need to be strong,
Permit no chink in your plate mail,
No hint of manipulation,
These ghouls would take you into their rotten fold,
Don’t let them stain your blood,
Be incorruptible.

We are all data,
Little binary toys,
A horde of zeroes,
Leashed to digital space,

Simply prey to a carnivorous system,
Swimming like salmon through databases,
Pushing all of the opulence upstream,
While being picked off by bears in taxman gown,

We are just numbers to be counted,
A sticker book collection,
For some child in a highborn office,
A creature with a taste for silver spoons.

Evil can rest behind a smiling face,
An amicable face,
Even a handsome face,
Charisma is the tool of a monster,
Just as a blade or garotte,
Yet more savage,
More cutting,
That was Ted,

Too many souls taken in by a friendly smirk,
A mask hiding thoughts of violation and murder,
Sugared words upon a serpents tongue,
Caught too late,
Highlighting the fell reality,
That fiends hide in plain sight,
Psychopathy cloaked in friendship,
That was Ted.

All is quiet and pure under the christmas lights,
Families finally resting their heads,
With the younglings awaiting he in the red coat,
But be sure they are deserving,
Or they invite the Krampus,
The dark element of the holiday season,

A mountain of matted fur and goat horns,
Eerily shrieking basket upon his back,
Hooves upon the perturbed snow,
He likes to punish those bad boys and girls,
The ones who spit and mock the infirm,
And purloin them from their sobbing sires,

So young ones,
You better be good,
Show respect and eat your greens,
Or he’ll chase you giggling all the while,
You won’t be spared the birch rod,
And be whisked away by cloven hoof.

You see this creature atop my shoulder?
This fiend of mana,
This decrepit homunculus,
This breathing effigy of a devil,
Neither feminine nor masculine,
Something akin to an insect blended with a raven,

Be not afraid,
For it is beholden to me,
It is my familiar,
My arcane assistant,
Summoned to support occult exertions,
Clutching my nape with bestial claws,

Its feral eyes help seeing mystical patterns,
Its hand able to weave magicks beyond mortal ken,
As abominable as this thing appears,
It was created to serve,
To aid,
A sorcerers best ally.

I once spent an evening with an angel,
And heavenly she was,
Aside from some goetic tattoos here and about,
But something transpired,
A force took hold of her,

The conversation turned increasingly esoteric,
Her words became sulphuric heat,
Forked tongues in each breath,
Onyx veils covered her eyes,
Stifling any humanity,

Her face became a mask,
Contorted and almost pliable,
An unknown presence lay behind it,
A baneful weight,
A malevolence,

The air felt heavy in her presence,
Like breathing in spiteful ash,
I asked her what she was,
She grinned,
And those were no longer human fangs.

I once met a being of glamour,
Fresh from the shores of Arcadia,
A sylvan lady,
Slender and refined in stature,
Cloaked in every form of botany,
Beautiful yet somewhat off,
Verging upon androgyny,

Her hair was overgrown ivy,
And her eyes were frosted alabaster,
Her gaze felt ever like barely stifled fury,
A mother bears spirit married to the fae,
Natures proud hostility held fast in her voice,
The elements danced like sprites upon her silver tongue,
And from that tongue came a harsh attitude,

To her kind,
The human world was profane,
An aberration,
We are pollution given a body,
The antithesis of her creed,
It was difficult to argue,
So I gave myself to the green.

I remember seeing that beast,
Though that word did it no justice,
Upon his dynasty strewn with bones,
So still and so proud,
Like a bestial portrait,
It could easily have been a statue,

A regal creature of mythology,
Holding aspects both feline and avian,
Four legs and twin wings,
Claw and beak,
It growled with a bloodcurdling bass,
Regarding me with vulturous eyes,

This cave was the court of a monarch,
I had not come as a hunter,
But to proffer gifts on behalf of me and mine,
So I showed due fearful deference,
And like an emperor shows mercy to a serf,
The griffin let me live.

On this night of nights,
Something releases a scream amongst screams,
Did you hear it?
That horror of the night,
That shriek of a feminine guise,
That ear splitting cry,
It came from that thing,
That spectral visage over yonder,
With it the eve grows foreboding,

A woman perhaps,
Beautiful yet horrific,
A monster perhaps,
Enticing yet bloodcurdling,
This season attracts such apparitions,
It comes with the territory,
Spectres abound after all,
So I must ask again,
Did you hear it?

When you imagine an artist,
You do not see me,
You see a noble practitioner of the word,
Your Tolkiens and Pratchetts,
Not me,
Not this freak with a pen,

I’m no artist,
I’m a monster of art,
My process is more of a hunt,
Deranged savagery in each stroke,
Less the orchestration of an artistic vision,
And more the dismemberment of prose,

The words I scribble are the meat,
The meanings behind them are a bitter aftertaste,
A happy accident,
Rending phrase from stanza,
Mutilating rather than composing,
Poetry coming from a state of psychosis,

I’ve read the greats,
My fangs were cut on their work,
This creature is a deviation from their ways,
I write because I must,
Perhaps one day,
I’ll write this monster a happy ending.