I have been posting poems during lockdown based on the concept taken from a much earlier poem called 'Cycle Of The Scarecrow' a fantasy piece which tells the tale of a scarecrow who is brought back to life by a witch and walks the fields of Albion. It is a reflection on the changing seasons and of growing old - and the premise of 'what if I had my time again?
It was released today as a digital do...

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Wraith

We all reach that point in life

Where Halloween holds no magic

The ragged clothes and haggard looks

The pale of face and wrinkled mask

The wild unkempt hair of cobwebs

The brittle touch of ancient hand

The racing heartbeat

Pounding out its horror rhythm

The nervous look into dark corners

Death waiting across the grey veil

A cold sweat and night chi...

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Damnation Trail

Through forests dark and shadowed vale

He follows the damnation trail

Along the river’s twisted course

Through bracken thick and clutching gorse

The ancient path cut through the land

He walks with devil’s hand in hand

And where his steps flatten the crops

No more will grow the wheat and hops

For he has footsteps cast in death

He steals the fa...

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Corruption

Here in the verdant meadows

All on a summer’s day

The dreaded army of the dark

Met with the noble fey

They fought until the long sundown

And the lost blood of the dead

Soaked into the sacred ground

And turned the roses red

When the fight was over

And the legion of the flies

Had swarmed across the corpses

Stealing hope from sightless eyes

...

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Prophecy

The crows tell of the walking man

Who travels fields by day and night

The walking man who’s not a man

Who strides between the dark and light

Soulless, cursed to stumble through

The endless hedgerows of the land

He wished for life but walks in death

He is the sweet prince of the damned

The hares and rabbits run from him

The fox and wolf walk by ...

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Lazarus Curse

I trudge across these ancient lands

Where crops are reared by human hands

And all I leave are footsteps deep

a crop the scythe will never reap

I see the changing seasons turn

The new shoots grow, bonfires burn

From the soil the world will grow

I track the sacred rivers flow

These things of beauty pass me by

I have no soul I cannot die

F...

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Black Metal Band Looking For A Name

Cannibal Sewer Rats

The Sweat Of Judas

Black Candle Prayer

Vikings Of Stavanger

We need a name boys

We need a name

Black Metal Band

Looking for fame

Sons Of The Necropolis

Sonic Angel Spit

Kitten Paws (No! Kevin No!)

Demon Suicide

We need a name boys

We need a name

Black Metal Band

Looking for f...

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The Mandrake Curse

I spied the purple mandrake flowers

Sitting in their nest of green

And foolishly looked to rip them

From the earth they serenely sat upon

And everywhere a shriek echoed

Across the woods and leafy vales

and to my weary eyes I saw

The bulbous body resurrected

A face demonic in its glare

For being torn from fitful slumber

Wizened arms of k...

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Tumbleweed

In a town called Tumbleweed

sound is deadened

so that every conversation

crawls like a gentle breeze

through cotton wool.

Beggars are kings,

politicians pariahs,

policemen thieves,

priests parasites.

Suzie is a victim.

The streets of Tumbleweed

host sinners, saints and surrogates

sneering into bibles

left to them

by agnostic pa...

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expanded version of the blog I posted a few days ago - this time covering all four seasons.

Cycle Of The Scarecrow

A Scarecrow Dreams Of Living

A scarecrow in autumnal sheen

thinks of all that he has been.

His age old frame begins to lean

as bitter winds blow in, so keen.

He longs for days of evergreen,

so buys back time, wipes the slate c...

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A Scarecrow Dreams Of Leaving

A scarecrow in the wax moonlight

is snowed upon one winters night

and as the crystals, soft, alight

he dreams perhaps some day he might

take footsteps off into the bright

ice world. His skeletal delight

some hours later, fat and white

with snow-flesh -  waiting for coal sight.

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To Love In Vein.

Sebastian

was dark and broody,

Celestine

was pale and moody

(Celestine’s real name

was Judy).

Sebastian

dressed all in black,

(by the way

his name was Jack)

he thought he was

good in the sack.

Judy

thought ‘Oh, what the heck’,

Jack

thought ‘what a lovely neck’,

so hard to keep

their lust i...

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warRANT

the ack-ack-ack

of sobbing children

a tear

for every bullet

the roll of pressure

heal to toe

erasing limbs

flies swarming on open wounds

picking at the scabs

of wounded families

the searing pain

of widows and orphans

scorched flesh

hurt is local currency

guns from foreign currency

a...

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