Mr. Ash

He’s coming for me,
Even the storm outside does not cloak his steps,
Mr. Ash,
The frigid wind tries to hold him back in vain,
The rain whispers “flee”,
Each stroke of lightning is a plea of “run!”,

My attempts at going underground failed,
My thieving insult to him will be repaid in blood,
I glance out of the window fearfully,
I see him nearing even in the black,
It’s like staring into evil itself,
It’s like looking at the apocalypse in slow motion,

A demon,
A God,
Or something altogether more alien,
Long spindly limbs,
Pale and hairless,
He is dressed literally to kill,

His emaciated limbs bear barbarous claws,
Claws that have ended lives since time began,
And perhaps even before,
His mad eyes are wide open,
His grin filled with murderous intent,
He’s coming for me,

His form appeared at my door,
That grin still glistening,
Despite the horror that was about to ensue,
His rangy form must nearly crouch,
But I still feel like a frightened child,
The monster under the bed is real,

Even the bravest slink in terror,
And fear the name of Mr. Ash,
Even the maddest see reason,
And fear the name of Mr. Ash,
Even as my body is torn limb from limb,
The storm continues unabated.

The Stranger

Oh stranger I see in the night,
What drives you?
I see you from my window,
You’re draped in black,
And you wander the streets as if lost.

Are you lost or perhaps searching?
Are you afraid of sleep?
Are you going to heaven or hell?
Are you a scourge or a saint?
Are you even human?

What compels you?
Are you a thrall to the moon?
The night?
Are you a villain of the city?
The dark?

What possesses you?
What fuels you?
I think I must know,
So I open the door into the black,
Now I’m a stranger in the night too.

Lost Stream

Take care if you ever lose your way,
You may wander to the lost stream,
A realm of wonder and horror in equal measure,
Gilded in fog and mist,
Murky waters circled by ominous marsh,
A land of ordeals and secrecy,
A place of dread and fragile alacrity.

Nobody knows where it is,
Is it out there in the unknown world?
Or is it in your mind?

Inhabited by bugbears and goblins,
Elves and imps,
Boggarts and brownies,
Twisted boughs give them solace,
They too lost their way once,
They wandered purposelessly,
And found the primal lost stream.

The lost stream offers relief to the astray,
Its lantern-lit waters are a blessing and a bane,
But is it in your mind?

Are you wandering or are you right on track?

The story of man and madness

At first there was Love,
But then Man found his enemy,
Madness.
And Madness struck Love down,
And from that, came Rage burning.

Rage and Man made a pact and became one,
To war upon Madness,
And way they did,
But Man and Madness saw their similarities,
And unmasked their true enemy,
Obsession.