Four blades of lead line this fine sheet of crystal
fitting it into the baulking bastion that I call a home.
Without company and webbed by solitude, the division
between the plane of reality and sanctuary binds me
to a blackness, bleaker and colder than a void.

The decay of an exalted life is so pungent
that it supplants the strongest of men.
Forgotten, ignored, I agonise over the loss of light, hope – human contact.
Confused and broken, I bicker bitterly over what was, what could have been
what will and what will never come to pass in the morbidly disfigured carcass
I call life.




Figures standing still,
crack, decay, crumble –
under the weight of endless time.

Frozen on a winding  road
bereft of life, laughter and love
with the Dark ever creeping.

A colourless, speckled visage,
marred by a sullen silhouette
asphyxiated by forlorn hope.


I look in your eyes
I see an eternal darkness
a pitch black, enveloped by a void
unknown to all.

I hold your hands
I feel a burning chill
cold flesh; wrapped in rags
stagnant with decay.

I caress your body
so lifeless. There is nothing.
a hollow husk; laid threadbare
gilded with fading light.

A warmth long gone.


I sweep myself across a barren, vast ocean floor.
I sweep myself above cold, watery grass.
I sweep myself through charred, scorched fields.
Waiting without end.

Truth is – regeneration never comes.
I must sweep on
until Death itself awaits me –
moaning at my doorstep.

Time will come to pass
and Legend will forever remember
one who swept –
while he silently wept.

Remember Them

Young men – fresh from preparatory,
They enlisted as young, eager minds,
Keen to fight – to do their duty, their part
In a battle, that would forever change –
their lives.

‘Twas a dark night when they struck –
Boys, screaming like the shrill of a lark,
Ducked for cover, with one another
Dying together,
like brothers in arms.

The ever shrieking hail of shells
blackened, burnt and rid the land of life.
Grenades blew men’s bowels through their mouths.
Whilst blades drew out their guts
Grim, war is – when all is lost; mutter
is all they do
As they are ushered into a hospitable

Aqueous, like the water of the sea,
Did the fresh sanguine blood of comrades flee.
Only through instant, yet honourable death,
Were soldiers truly free – free from the horrors,
of war.

As you and I sit and smile, we never did
Know how many bodies there were strewn
Across that pitiful, demeaning, insane field.
Not even the innocent did yield
A shield against the tyranny of conflict.