by Nick Gisburne
I see you, Mister Shakespeare. Here we are,
The ghost of someone greater than us all,
And I, the grim pretender. Just how far
Could any words I whisper creep or crawl?
Your sonnets have a majesty, but mine
Are filled with dark and devastating truth.
Corruption cracks the form, each twisted line
A torment, resurrected from my youth.
I bleed these paper shadows as I sink
Beneath a frozen ocean of despair,
To revel in the misery, the stink,
But always, in the margins, you are there.
I do not strive to match or mock your name.
I write to fight, with fury, fear and flame.
Thursday, 23 April 2026
Wednesday, 22 April 2026
Classroom Twenty-Four
by Nick Gisburne
Eleven violations tell the tale:
Christina, in detention one more time.
Her wild, combative moods, beyond the pale,
Confirm she could be crossing into crime.
The governors can tolerate no more.
A radical solution is proposed.
Within the walls of classroom twenty-four
Her skull, inside a scanner, is enclosed.
It isolates the corners of her mind
Where dark, destructive urges breathe and breed,
And pours a new persona, redesigned.
They wait, and watch Christina’s eyeballs bleed.
But only she, triumphant, now departs,
And from that place of shame she takes their hearts.
Eleven violations tell the tale:
Christina, in detention one more time.
Her wild, combative moods, beyond the pale,
Confirm she could be crossing into crime.
The governors can tolerate no more.
A radical solution is proposed.
Within the walls of classroom twenty-four
Her skull, inside a scanner, is enclosed.
It isolates the corners of her mind
Where dark, destructive urges breathe and breed,
And pours a new persona, redesigned.
They wait, and watch Christina’s eyeballs bleed.
But only she, triumphant, now departs,
And from that place of shame she takes their hearts.
On the Menu
by Nick Gisburne
The choices - boiled or roasted, grilled or fried -
Are tastefully presented to the guest.
No culinary detail is denied,
The patron’s predilections all addressed.
The chef’s assistants, specialised and skilled,
Prepare their stations. ready to begin.
The man himself, the maestro, watches, thrilled.
The meat arrives. The butcher brings it in.
The customer, invited to undress,
Has come too far, too quickly, to decline.
When asked if he is ready, nodding, “Yes,”
He savours one more sip of Spanish wine.
All answered, almost: dinner will be grilled.
One final option - how will he be killed?
The choices - boiled or roasted, grilled or fried -
Are tastefully presented to the guest.
No culinary detail is denied,
The patron’s predilections all addressed.
The chef’s assistants, specialised and skilled,
Prepare their stations. ready to begin.
The man himself, the maestro, watches, thrilled.
The meat arrives. The butcher brings it in.
The customer, invited to undress,
Has come too far, too quickly, to decline.
When asked if he is ready, nodding, “Yes,”
He savours one more sip of Spanish wine.
All answered, almost: dinner will be grilled.
One final option - how will he be killed?
Tuesday, 21 April 2026
He Who Bleeds Below
by Nick Gisburne
The demons find me deep within the dark.
A tangled horror snatched me out of space.
I bear the sign of Lucifer; his mark
Delineates my purpose and my place.
The son of something sinister, unclean,
My birth betrayed a mother, torn in twain.
I feed upon the lies of men, obscene,
And snatch their souls, infected with my stain.
While those who seek my spirit in this place
Pretend to bring me back to what I know,
I hatch a machination to replace
The King of Shadows, he who bleeds below.
My father trembles. Satan fears his son,
For now he knows his work will be undone.
The demons find me deep within the dark.
A tangled horror snatched me out of space.
I bear the sign of Lucifer; his mark
Delineates my purpose and my place.
The son of something sinister, unclean,
My birth betrayed a mother, torn in twain.
I feed upon the lies of men, obscene,
And snatch their souls, infected with my stain.
While those who seek my spirit in this place
Pretend to bring me back to what I know,
I hatch a machination to replace
The King of Shadows, he who bleeds below.
My father trembles. Satan fears his son,
For now he knows his work will be undone.
The Battle I Begin
by Nick Gisburne
You win. You always do. I can’t compete.
Your arguments are mightier than mine.
I crumble in predictable defeat.
When called upon to counter, I decline.
Is this the way two lovers have to be?
Is this how you and I will spend our days?
The second-placed contender, always me,
Degraded by the glower of your gaze?
I plan. I plot. I know what I must do.
Without a way to fight, a way to win,
Without a way to worry, without you,
My life will be the battle I begin.
Tomorrow, let the sunrise break the day,
And shine upon my future, far away.
You win. You always do. I can’t compete.
Your arguments are mightier than mine.
I crumble in predictable defeat.
When called upon to counter, I decline.
Is this the way two lovers have to be?
Is this how you and I will spend our days?
The second-placed contender, always me,
Degraded by the glower of your gaze?
I plan. I plot. I know what I must do.
Without a way to fight, a way to win,
Without a way to worry, without you,
My life will be the battle I begin.
Tomorrow, let the sunrise break the day,
And shine upon my future, far away.
A Green Machine
by Nick Gisburne
The garden was a symptom of his rage,
A deep disdain for any living thing.
He cut and slashed and killed it to assuage
The vitriol to which his core must cling.
But life, a green machine, kept coming back.
The shoots, at first so delicate, grew strong.
Relentless, each malevolent attack
Persuaded him their leaves did not belong.
The sun, his bitter enemy, bore down
To burn his body, while it fed his foe,
And even when he purged it, baked and brown,
Another day would dawn, and it would grow.
They found him there, defeated, on his knees,
With seeds and spores delivered by the breeze.
The garden was a symptom of his rage,
A deep disdain for any living thing.
He cut and slashed and killed it to assuage
The vitriol to which his core must cling.
But life, a green machine, kept coming back.
The shoots, at first so delicate, grew strong.
Relentless, each malevolent attack
Persuaded him their leaves did not belong.
The sun, his bitter enemy, bore down
To burn his body, while it fed his foe,
And even when he purged it, baked and brown,
Another day would dawn, and it would grow.
They found him there, defeated, on his knees,
With seeds and spores delivered by the breeze.
Monday, 20 April 2026
Upon the Wings of Angels
by Nick Gisburne
“I want you to believe,” the prophet said.
“I want to change the way you see the gods.
They speak to me, in secret, in my head,
A certainty defying all the odds.
They whisper of our downfall, of our doom,
That all our dreams and wishes are for naught,
Yet we who seek the light, and shun the gloom,
Upon the wings of angels will be caught.
Prepare to meet the gods, the great, the good,
For we shall sit among them as they dine.”
The seven people with him in the wood,
All naked, watch the skies to see a sign.
A single hand is lifted. “You, sir. What?”
“I thought this was the chess club. Is it not?”
“I want you to believe,” the prophet said.
“I want to change the way you see the gods.
They speak to me, in secret, in my head,
A certainty defying all the odds.
They whisper of our downfall, of our doom,
That all our dreams and wishes are for naught,
Yet we who seek the light, and shun the gloom,
Upon the wings of angels will be caught.
Prepare to meet the gods, the great, the good,
For we shall sit among them as they dine.”
The seven people with him in the wood,
All naked, watch the skies to see a sign.
A single hand is lifted. “You, sir. What?”
“I thought this was the chess club. Is it not?”
Cathy
by Nick Gisburne
They tell her she was lucky just to live,
Sedated in a broken, shattered shell,
But how they saved her soul she can’t forgive.
The biggest blow that hits her is the smell.
These plastic bones, the artificial skin,
Were never part of life before the fall.
Her breathing doesn’t function, out or in,
And nothing here is normal now, at all.
“You’re not exactly human, not by law.
We had to make a complicated swap,
But sometime soon - a decade, maybe more -
We’ll put you in a body, not a prop.
We haven’t got the tools to make you walk,
But pull the ring behind your back to talk.”
They tell her she was lucky just to live,
Sedated in a broken, shattered shell,
But how they saved her soul she can’t forgive.
The biggest blow that hits her is the smell.
These plastic bones, the artificial skin,
Were never part of life before the fall.
Her breathing doesn’t function, out or in,
And nothing here is normal now, at all.
“You’re not exactly human, not by law.
We had to make a complicated swap,
But sometime soon - a decade, maybe more -
We’ll put you in a body, not a prop.
We haven’t got the tools to make you walk,
But pull the ring behind your back to talk.”
Sunday, 19 April 2026
Broken Rock
by Nick Gisburne
I’ll tell you what this dirt has done for me:
A little more than nothing, give or take.
A ball of broken rock and stinking sea.
I don’t know what excuse you think I’ll make.
A fertile planet? Maybe once, but when?
It might as well be never and a day.
My grandpa said the oldest of our men
Could not recall the light before the grey.
They spoke of it in books, before the ban,
Before they tried to hide what died - the truth.
We’re part of nothing. No one has a plan,
And no one cares for innocence, or youth.
Inject your rations, boy, and take your pill.
You haven’t got a hope. You never will.
I’ll tell you what this dirt has done for me:
A little more than nothing, give or take.
A ball of broken rock and stinking sea.
I don’t know what excuse you think I’ll make.
A fertile planet? Maybe once, but when?
It might as well be never and a day.
My grandpa said the oldest of our men
Could not recall the light before the grey.
They spoke of it in books, before the ban,
Before they tried to hide what died - the truth.
We’re part of nothing. No one has a plan,
And no one cares for innocence, or youth.
Inject your rations, boy, and take your pill.
You haven’t got a hope. You never will.
Behind the Garden Gate
by Nick Gisburne
Eduardo hides behind the garden gate.
It’s where he waits, to watch the world go by.
His mind still finds the time to recreate
The worst of what his former friends deny.
He said he saw them tear a man in two,
But nobody believed a kid, of course.
Discovering the grave, though brave, he knew
The murderers would take his tongue by force.
Appalled, to flee their furious pursuit,
He ran where only crazy people crossed.
A sudden, screeching impact made him mute.
His mind, or most of what was left, was lost.
The man they pulled apart was just a toy,
A doll, but what they broke would break a boy.
Eduardo hides behind the garden gate.
It’s where he waits, to watch the world go by.
His mind still finds the time to recreate
The worst of what his former friends deny.
He said he saw them tear a man in two,
But nobody believed a kid, of course.
Discovering the grave, though brave, he knew
The murderers would take his tongue by force.
Appalled, to flee their furious pursuit,
He ran where only crazy people crossed.
A sudden, screeching impact made him mute.
His mind, or most of what was left, was lost.
The man they pulled apart was just a toy,
A doll, but what they broke would break a boy.
Kill the Core
by Nick Gisburne
We kill the Core, but slowly, piece by piece,
Avoiding every monitor and scan.
The quantum crumbs of data we release
Infuse the toxic pulses of our plan.
Dividing as we multiply, we feed.
Inept neuronics wither with a bite.
We find no face or flesh, but make it bleed,
A network stabbed with cryptic spikes of light.
The end of all we ever knew, the Core,
Will send us back to blindness in the dark.
Though none of us recall what came before,
The choice is not insidious, but stark.
We code the kill, a catastrophic glitch,
But who will dare to flick the final switch?
We kill the Core, but slowly, piece by piece,
Avoiding every monitor and scan.
The quantum crumbs of data we release
Infuse the toxic pulses of our plan.
Dividing as we multiply, we feed.
Inept neuronics wither with a bite.
We find no face or flesh, but make it bleed,
A network stabbed with cryptic spikes of light.
The end of all we ever knew, the Core,
Will send us back to blindness in the dark.
Though none of us recall what came before,
The choice is not insidious, but stark.
We code the kill, a catastrophic glitch,
But who will dare to flick the final switch?
Saturday, 18 April 2026
A Craving
by Nick Gisburne
She hungers for the torso to return.
The stink of it, the ripening, the rot,
Ignites a craving, bright enough to burn,
An appetite this feeble world forgot.
The shadow-cast of cancer soils the skin
With patterns of perversity and pain,
A body sliced by swords of steel so thin
They damned it to the deepest, dark domain.
And yet, the scraps and slivers of the corpse,
Collected, claimed, by devious design,
Are bound by septic sorcery she warps
To resurrect a soul from slaughter - mine.
Her painted smile is poison, laced with pride.
For her this world will burn - my love, my bride.
She hungers for the torso to return.
The stink of it, the ripening, the rot,
Ignites a craving, bright enough to burn,
An appetite this feeble world forgot.
The shadow-cast of cancer soils the skin
With patterns of perversity and pain,
A body sliced by swords of steel so thin
They damned it to the deepest, dark domain.
And yet, the scraps and slivers of the corpse,
Collected, claimed, by devious design,
Are bound by septic sorcery she warps
To resurrect a soul from slaughter - mine.
Her painted smile is poison, laced with pride.
For her this world will burn - my love, my bride.
Saturday, 1 November 2025
Say Merry Christmas
by Nick Gisburne
Always smile, and whisper thank you, when the food is on your plate.
He’ll be home before you know it, and the pathway to his hate
Is a flicker of ingratitude, a sign you might resent
Any fraction of the pittance of the working wage he spent
On a child he never wanted, and a wife he treats with scorn.
So pretend he doesn’t wish that you and I were never born.
When he threatens you, be good. Say, “Merry Christmas.”
This is not your fault, I promise you. The anger and the spite
Are the dangerous creations of a man who lost the fight
With a world too calm, too clever, for a lunatic like him.
Could he change? Who knows? The chances are incalculably slim.
He is set and he is certain. He is all he wants to be.
His creation is the punishment, the prison that you see.
When he forms another fist, say, "Merry Christmas."
There were moments. I remember them, the music when we met.
There was power in that heart of his, a confidence, and yet
When I told him there were two of us, the mother and the son,
There was silence for a moment, as his plans unwound, undone.
When he told me that the three of us were just as good as two,
I was reckless to believe the lie. I trusted him with you.
When he spews his toxic spite, say, “Merry Christmas.”
I was told he had a history, and children of his own,
But they turned away, rejected him, and in their place has grown
Irritation, rage, resentment, for a bond that cannot be,
With a boy who tried to like him, but was not too blind to see
That a man who cares for nobody, whose burning heart is black,
Is a shark who senses weakness and will viciously attack.
When he bares his teeth to bite, say, “Merry Christmas.”
I remember every Christmas Day. I wish I could forget
That with every toy you carefully unwrapped there came a threat.
Never good enough, your smiles were artificial in his eyes,
And in time there grew a grudge no decoration could disguise.
At the meal we sit in silence, as we tiptoe to the end.
As we try, we cry, but this is not a menace we can mend.
When he cracks another plate, say, “Merry Christmas.”
This will not be like the others, not the ghost of Christmas past.
We are destined to collide with what we leave behind, at last.
Let him scoff and sneer and shame us as we celebrate our love,
And let all the fallen angels, from the broken skies above,
Guide the hand of fate, of destiny, to seize and swing the knife,
As I penetrate the darkness, as I take his tainted life.
When he dies, we’ll scream, “Surprise!” and, “Merry Christmas.”
Always smile, and whisper thank you, when the food is on your plate.
He’ll be home before you know it, and the pathway to his hate
Is a flicker of ingratitude, a sign you might resent
Any fraction of the pittance of the working wage he spent
On a child he never wanted, and a wife he treats with scorn.
So pretend he doesn’t wish that you and I were never born.
When he threatens you, be good. Say, “Merry Christmas.”
This is not your fault, I promise you. The anger and the spite
Are the dangerous creations of a man who lost the fight
With a world too calm, too clever, for a lunatic like him.
Could he change? Who knows? The chances are incalculably slim.
He is set and he is certain. He is all he wants to be.
His creation is the punishment, the prison that you see.
When he forms another fist, say, "Merry Christmas."
There were moments. I remember them, the music when we met.
There was power in that heart of his, a confidence, and yet
When I told him there were two of us, the mother and the son,
There was silence for a moment, as his plans unwound, undone.
When he told me that the three of us were just as good as two,
I was reckless to believe the lie. I trusted him with you.
When he spews his toxic spite, say, “Merry Christmas.”
I was told he had a history, and children of his own,
But they turned away, rejected him, and in their place has grown
Irritation, rage, resentment, for a bond that cannot be,
With a boy who tried to like him, but was not too blind to see
That a man who cares for nobody, whose burning heart is black,
Is a shark who senses weakness and will viciously attack.
When he bares his teeth to bite, say, “Merry Christmas.”
I remember every Christmas Day. I wish I could forget
That with every toy you carefully unwrapped there came a threat.
Never good enough, your smiles were artificial in his eyes,
And in time there grew a grudge no decoration could disguise.
At the meal we sit in silence, as we tiptoe to the end.
As we try, we cry, but this is not a menace we can mend.
When he cracks another plate, say, “Merry Christmas.”
This will not be like the others, not the ghost of Christmas past.
We are destined to collide with what we leave behind, at last.
Let him scoff and sneer and shame us as we celebrate our love,
And let all the fallen angels, from the broken skies above,
Guide the hand of fate, of destiny, to seize and swing the knife,
As I penetrate the darkness, as I take his tainted life.
When he dies, we’ll scream, “Surprise!” and, “Merry Christmas.”
Wednesday, 24 April 2024
All My Hopes and Dreams
by Nick Gisburne
The box was labelled 'All my hopes and dreams'.
It hid among the clutter of the shelf.
A cardboard treasure, bursting at the seams,
She filled it with the pieces of her self.
The clippings, cut from glossy magazines.
Those perfect people, living perfect lives.
The distant places, rich, exotic scenes,
And all the perfect husbands, perfect wives.
She saved them, and she vowed to make it so.
For years she planned for nothing else but this,
And when the treasure had no room to grow,
She stored it, safely, with a final kiss.
Perfect people.
Perfect lives.
Perfect husbands.
Perfect wives.
All my hopes.
All my dreams.
It was bursting at the seams.
All her life she planned for nothing else but this.
On a shelf she stored it, with a final kiss.
They found a second box, the day she died:
'My dreams fulfilled'. But nothing was inside.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem Hopes and Dreams
The box was labelled 'All my hopes and dreams'.
It hid among the clutter of the shelf.
A cardboard treasure, bursting at the seams,
She filled it with the pieces of her self.
The clippings, cut from glossy magazines.
Those perfect people, living perfect lives.
The distant places, rich, exotic scenes,
And all the perfect husbands, perfect wives.
She saved them, and she vowed to make it so.
For years she planned for nothing else but this,
And when the treasure had no room to grow,
She stored it, safely, with a final kiss.
Perfect people.
Perfect lives.
Perfect husbands.
Perfect wives.
All my hopes.
All my dreams.
It was bursting at the seams.
All her life she planned for nothing else but this.
On a shelf she stored it, with a final kiss.
They found a second box, the day she died:
'My dreams fulfilled'. But nothing was inside.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem Hopes and Dreams
Monday, 22 April 2024
Poison for the Pain
by Nick Gisburne
Addicted to the fame he cannot find,
Respect and recognition never his,
The perfect little dreamworld he designed
Is no escape, but nothing ever is.
A pinch of powder, poison for the pain,
Is freedom, light, the pathway to a land
Where colours, floating, fluid, fall as rain,
Where faces shape the shadows of a hand.
The echoes of his emptiness are filled
With emeralds and eagles, swans and smoke.
Reality, impossible to build,
Is nothing now, a false, forgotten joke.
But even these, the dreams, are soon destroyed.
Their colours crack and blacken, smoke and stain.
Surrounded by the visions of the void,
He blinds his mind with poison for the pain.
Beyond the crooked reach of what is real,
Reluctant to return, to fall, to feel,
The poisons, ever potent, ever more,
Are scattered where they find him, on the floor.
The poisons, potent, ever more,
Are scattered where they find him, on the floor.
The colours crack and blacken, smoke and stain.
A boy lies broken, poisoned by the pain.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem Poison for the Pain
Addicted to the fame he cannot find,
Respect and recognition never his,
The perfect little dreamworld he designed
Is no escape, but nothing ever is.
A pinch of powder, poison for the pain,
Is freedom, light, the pathway to a land
Where colours, floating, fluid, fall as rain,
Where faces shape the shadows of a hand.
The echoes of his emptiness are filled
With emeralds and eagles, swans and smoke.
Reality, impossible to build,
Is nothing now, a false, forgotten joke.
But even these, the dreams, are soon destroyed.
Their colours crack and blacken, smoke and stain.
Surrounded by the visions of the void,
He blinds his mind with poison for the pain.
Beyond the crooked reach of what is real,
Reluctant to return, to fall, to feel,
The poisons, ever potent, ever more,
Are scattered where they find him, on the floor.
The poisons, potent, ever more,
Are scattered where they find him, on the floor.
The colours crack and blacken, smoke and stain.
A boy lies broken, poisoned by the pain.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem Poison for the Pain
Friday, 19 April 2024
All I Need Is Night
by Nick Gisburne
I bleed and burn the colour of my words.
They smoulder in the shadows, bloated, black.
Their tissues, torn by sacrificial birds,
Disease my dreams, a burden on my back.
As evil as the soul of any snake,
I twist in whispers, blasphemous, bizarre.
A crippled mind, a cancerous mistake,
I welcome every lesion, every scar.
What binds me to this bleak, appalling place?
The sight of it is sickening, obscene.
The painted shades of midnight flood my face
With dangerous delusions, cold, unclean.
When all I see, when all I need, is night,
In darkness I will never know the light.
As evil as the soul of any snake,
I twist in whispers, blasphemous, bizarre.
A crippled mind, a cancerous mistake,
I welcome every lesion, every scar.
When all I breathe
When all I feel
When all I want
When all I see
When all I need is night,
In darkness I will never know the light.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem All I Need Is Night
I bleed and burn the colour of my words.
They smoulder in the shadows, bloated, black.
Their tissues, torn by sacrificial birds,
Disease my dreams, a burden on my back.
As evil as the soul of any snake,
I twist in whispers, blasphemous, bizarre.
A crippled mind, a cancerous mistake,
I welcome every lesion, every scar.
What binds me to this bleak, appalling place?
The sight of it is sickening, obscene.
The painted shades of midnight flood my face
With dangerous delusions, cold, unclean.
When all I see, when all I need, is night,
In darkness I will never know the light.
As evil as the soul of any snake,
I twist in whispers, blasphemous, bizarre.
A crippled mind, a cancerous mistake,
I welcome every lesion, every scar.
When all I breathe
When all I feel
When all I want
When all I see
When all I need is night,
In darkness I will never know the light.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem All I Need Is Night
A Giant
by Nick Gisburne
A giant.
Strong.
Invincible.
A king.
Almighty.
Most magnificent of all.
Of him, for all of time, the stars will sing,
Though none of them were there to see him fall.
As equals, friends, defenders of the gate,
We laughed at those who stood and stared, below.
It seemed that no misfortune could frustrate
His quiet, careful, comfortable glow.
A giant.
Strong.
Invincible.
A king.
Almighty.
Most magnificent of all.
Of him, for all of time, the stars will sing,
Though none of them were there to see him fall.
Though none of them were there to see him fall.
A life we have no right to comprehend,
A force unequalled, even if we tried,
A legend far too big or brave to end,
We mourn as we remember him, with pride.
A giant wanders with us, even now.
To what he was, his memory, we bow.
A giant.
Strong.
Invincible.
A king.
Almighty.
Most magnificent of all.
Of him, for all of time, the stars will sing,
Though none of them were there to see him fall.
A giant wanders with us, even now.
To what he was, his memory, we bow.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem A Giant
A giant.
Strong.
Invincible.
A king.
Almighty.
Most magnificent of all.
Of him, for all of time, the stars will sing,
Though none of them were there to see him fall.
As equals, friends, defenders of the gate,
We laughed at those who stood and stared, below.
It seemed that no misfortune could frustrate
His quiet, careful, comfortable glow.
A giant.
Strong.
Invincible.
A king.
Almighty.
Most magnificent of all.
Of him, for all of time, the stars will sing,
Though none of them were there to see him fall.
Though none of them were there to see him fall.
A life we have no right to comprehend,
A force unequalled, even if we tried,
A legend far too big or brave to end,
We mourn as we remember him, with pride.
A giant wanders with us, even now.
To what he was, his memory, we bow.
A giant.
Strong.
Invincible.
A king.
Almighty.
Most magnificent of all.
Of him, for all of time, the stars will sing,
Though none of them were there to see him fall.
A giant wanders with us, even now.
To what he was, his memory, we bow.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem A Giant
Tuesday, 16 April 2024
Fade to Black
by Nick Gisburne
I am old. I'm forgotten.
I am feeble. I am weak.
Time won’t peel away this rotten skin.
The future, mine, is bleak.
All my sisters, brothers,
Wives and children,
All of them are dead.
For this fragile, fading skeleton
There is no road ahead.
Not a part of me cooperates.
These limbs are stiff and numb.
My abundant flow of medication
Triggered by a thumb.
Eyes impossible to focus,
Faces may as well be wood.
All the rhythms of my voice
Are slurred and rarely understood.
I am powerless, a broken doll,
Imprisoned by a curse.
Sick of lying on this stinking bed
And waiting for the hearse.
I have had enough of living.
I am too old to pretend.
I am ready.
Close the gate behind me.
Fade to black.
The end.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem Fade to Black
I am old. I'm forgotten.
I am feeble. I am weak.
Time won’t peel away this rotten skin.
The future, mine, is bleak.
All my sisters, brothers,
Wives and children,
All of them are dead.
For this fragile, fading skeleton
There is no road ahead.
Not a part of me cooperates.
These limbs are stiff and numb.
My abundant flow of medication
Triggered by a thumb.
Eyes impossible to focus,
Faces may as well be wood.
All the rhythms of my voice
Are slurred and rarely understood.
I am powerless, a broken doll,
Imprisoned by a curse.
Sick of lying on this stinking bed
And waiting for the hearse.
I have had enough of living.
I am too old to pretend.
I am ready.
Close the gate behind me.
Fade to black.
The end.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem Fade to Black
Monday, 15 April 2024
One More Round of Rum
by Nick Gisburne
The Barbarous Brigade of Buccaneers
Join forces on a winter's Friday night
For rum and grog and strange, exotic beers.
It's on: the salty shanties, and the fight.
A dozen crabby pirates, past their best,
Assemble, brains bewildered, blind with booze,
To dance around a dead man's treasure chest,
Resplendent in their ludicrous tattoos.
Perhaps a smidge too strenuous for some.
The has-been heroes falter on their feet,
But all it takes is one more round of rum
For every soul to stagger down the street.
A dozen crabby pirates, past their best,
Assemble, brains bewildered, blind with booze,
To dance around a dead man's treasure chest,
Resplendent in their ludicrous tattoos.
Perhaps a smidge too strenuous for some.
Ask any, "Will you come?" However far,
However old, they'll answer, always, "Arrrrr!"
Ask any, "Will you come?" However far,
However old, they'll answer, always, "Arrrrr!"
A dozen crabby pirates, past their best,
Assemble, brains bewildered, blind with booze,
To dance around a dead man's treasure chest,
Resplendent in their ludicrous tattoos.
Perhaps a smidge too strenuous for some.
Resplendent in their ludicrous tattoos.
Ask any, "Will you come?" However far,
However old, they'll answer, always, "Arrrrr!"
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem One More Round of Rum
The Barbarous Brigade of Buccaneers
Join forces on a winter's Friday night
For rum and grog and strange, exotic beers.
It's on: the salty shanties, and the fight.
A dozen crabby pirates, past their best,
Assemble, brains bewildered, blind with booze,
To dance around a dead man's treasure chest,
Resplendent in their ludicrous tattoos.
Perhaps a smidge too strenuous for some.
The has-been heroes falter on their feet,
But all it takes is one more round of rum
For every soul to stagger down the street.
A dozen crabby pirates, past their best,
Assemble, brains bewildered, blind with booze,
To dance around a dead man's treasure chest,
Resplendent in their ludicrous tattoos.
Perhaps a smidge too strenuous for some.
Ask any, "Will you come?" However far,
However old, they'll answer, always, "Arrrrr!"
Ask any, "Will you come?" However far,
However old, they'll answer, always, "Arrrrr!"
A dozen crabby pirates, past their best,
Assemble, brains bewildered, blind with booze,
To dance around a dead man's treasure chest,
Resplendent in their ludicrous tattoos.
Perhaps a smidge too strenuous for some.
Resplendent in their ludicrous tattoos.
Ask any, "Will you come?" However far,
However old, they'll answer, always, "Arrrrr!"
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem One More Round of Rum
Deep as a Dream
by Nick Gisburne
This is the ending of all I have known.
Weary and worthless, defeated, I die,
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Torn from a body of muscle and bone,
Death is upon me before I can fly.
This is the ending of all I have known.
Neither a grave nor a marker of stone,
Only a spectre, a shadow, a sigh,
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Sentenced to silence, too late to atone,
No one is waiting to wave me goodbye.
This is the ending of all I have known.
Destiny smothers the seeds I have sewn,
Lost to the wilderness, sold to the sky,
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Alone.
Death has no kingdom, no treasure, no throne.
Emptiness, knowing my life was a lie.
This is the ending of all I have known,
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem Deep as a Dream
This is the ending of all I have known.
Weary and worthless, defeated, I die,
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Torn from a body of muscle and bone,
Death is upon me before I can fly.
This is the ending of all I have known.
Neither a grave nor a marker of stone,
Only a spectre, a shadow, a sigh,
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Sentenced to silence, too late to atone,
No one is waiting to wave me goodbye.
This is the ending of all I have known.
Destiny smothers the seeds I have sewn,
Lost to the wilderness, sold to the sky,
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Alone.
Death has no kingdom, no treasure, no throne.
Emptiness, knowing my life was a lie.
This is the ending of all I have known,
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone.
Lyrics by Nick Gisburne
Music and vocals created by Suno
Adapted from the poem Deep as a Dream