Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Inkless Pen

The gate remains unfinished.  I can feel the rust beginning to take hold, to crawl like an irrational fear upon the bare metal.  I can taste the metallic doom clinging to the moist air as I sit, idly by, and wait for the next clap of thunder to rain liquid death upon the lonely bars.

I sit here, waiting for my Muse to stroke gently and whisper in my ear.  I hope that by lubricating her with good beer and a fine cigar, she will grace me with brilliance.  But she does not yet.  So I will reach into the pit of my being, prod the monsters there, and wait for one to surface.  If I am lucky, it will be fierce and deadly, one to be reckoned with.  Perhaps covered in spines and bleeding venomous ocher onto the floor as it writhes into my peripheral vision. 


Crawling black on iron bars
I see the shadows fall
There beyond the Raven's Gate
I hear the darkness call

For in time lost and ne'er found
I wish for more than this
Whilst all the horrors breathe my name
From monstrous lips, a kiss

Twas fine in prose and lost to sea
A great ship on the tide
I feel the pull from moonswashed shores
Where Cthulhu does reside

In chilled breeze and garish light
I hold by breath for dawn
If death come for me while I wait
My dears, my sadness mourn

So now with bated breath I lie
And shiver for my part
I see you wait around for more
Words written with my heart

Come to me my Starry Muse
And my Dryad cloaked in Wood
My words wait for your stroke so fair
To flow the way they should

Or Madness green and loathsome grip
Upon my wand'ring mind
While childhood fears all lie in wait
Polyphemus has gone blind

No comments:

Post a Comment