Wednesday 30 June 2021

Beyond the Wall of Winter

by Nick Gisburne

The quill is worn, and scratches as he writes
But every word spreads poison on the page
A fiction, from the bitterest of nights
Conceals the naked frenzy of his rage
His loathing for the cunning at her core
Which took him for a fool when he was rich
Compels him to regard her as a whore
Beyond the wall of winter is a witch
His love, eternal, never hooked her heart
But capital and wealth were well received
How smooth the snow which keeps their lives apart
How cold the crime with which he was deceived
    “Return, my love. New fortune sets us free.”
    He wonders what her dying words will be

Steamed and Smoking

by Nick Gisburne

His cannons punch a jagged hole in space
The stoned, psychotic commandant guffaws
Enthusiastic raiders join the chase
As groggy as the chief, they pound their paws
No hesitation, swift to skirt the star
A dozen roasted rebels cruise too close
For this, these fools of fortune flew so far
One touch, one taste, is worth the overdose
A thousand trappers target-lock the beast
The biggest any one of them has seen
Still baked, the boss man orders them released
They catch it, steamed and smoking, cracked but clean
    A psychedelic planet is the prize
    But only freaks and junkies brave the highs

New Moon

by Nick Gisburne

The Moon has brought a daughter to the sky
A copy, down to every dusty rock
A nuisance I am adamant must die
Allow me to illuminate my shock
I like to keep my flight path clear and clean
I cannot orbit any other way
A tidy Earth, I’m passionately keen
To keep the dregs, the asteroids, at bay
The Moon seemed almost motionless that night
But then at 4, Pacific Time, went wild
Already full, she amplified her light
And there it was, another moon, a child
    Appreciate the problems this provides
    Confusion for the werewolves, and the tides

The Balance of Reality

by Nick Gisburne

Be wary of the stars, the smoke of space
Uncertainty may spark a surge, a swarm
Accept your ashes from the painted place
Be joyful as you find your final form
You must not shirk the duties of our kind
The balance of reality is weak
When everything, yet nothing, fills your mind
Behold the gift, the sorcery you seek
Unbound, your thoughts are delicate, but dense
And when you know their purpose, you will free
An engine of illusion, so immense
That using it may shatter all you see
    The power of your soul is in its song
    Embrace it, find the balance, and belong

Tuesday 29 June 2021

The Vixen

by Nick Gisburne

The vitals of the Vixen are unsealed
The jars, within a box, within a bag
With every precious artifact revealed
Her acolytes, the faithful, turn to gag
The relics of a killing, long ago
Did not survive the eons as they should
The filthy flux, a thick and foetid flow
Discourages the blessed Brotherhood
A sludge of rotten entrails slips away
Its loss, its life, no magic can renew
But here, at last, the head, without decay
Restores the faith, the power, they pursue
    The crone, the queen, survivor of her crime
    Returns to claim her throne, to conquer time

Monday 28 June 2021

The Defect

by Nick Gisburne

My family is far too cold to care
Considering me bothersome from birth
If I was Heaven’s greatest hope, I swear
They’d burn me on the cinders of the Earth
I weary of the ridicule, the scorn
The urge to see me suffer, see me die
Dismissive since the moment I was born
I am the dirt, the defect, they deny
To give them freedom, I am locked away
Not one of them is penitent or sad
I know that I should go, but still I stay
Too fearful of the thought I might be mad
    If I could leave this bitterness behind
    Imagine it, the future I could find

A Special Cake

by Nick Gisburne

I’ve made a special cake for someone old
But cleverly concealed a gift inside
No tacky souvenir. No, this is gold
A work of art, a statue of his bride
Be careful, grandpa. Hold the knife. That’s right
And do not be alarmed at what you find
What is it? Lift it. Hold it to the light
And see the subtle sculpture I designed
It’s her. You see? It’s grandma. Yes, it’s true!
A likeness of the woman you adore
Portrayed to show the qualities we knew
Exotic dancer. Dominatrix. Whore
    My grandpa smiles at everything I bake
    And licks the naked lady in the cake

Sunday 27 June 2021

I Am War

by Nick Gisburne

I come to claim a sacrifice: the good
To show them what your selfishness forgot
I know that you would stop me if you could
But I am in control, and you are not
How simple to exterminate them all
The virtuous, the pure and perfect few
How fitting for them, dying, to recall
The reason they submit to slaughter: you
I recognise the bitter tears you shed
And nobody could understand you more
But when you see them bleeding, dying, dead
Remember, no one really wins a war
    I bring the hate, the violence you fear
    And only peace can make me disappear

Tangled Time

by Nick Gisburne

She wears her gloves of gold to tangle time
To bind the darkest nightmares as they pass
Collecting every crisis, every crime
She builds a monstrous monolith of glass
Immersed in stolen fortune, tortured fate
Her lies are empty omens, broken, bound
She steals the precious essence of the date
And buries it to fester in the ground
Her power, hungry, heavy, fights the clock
A single moment shatters, screams and dies
And fuelled by a prophecy, a shock
She bends to taste the pieces of her prize
    The chaos of infinity is sweet
    Her toxic, tainted future is complete

Saturday 26 June 2021

Cyborg Etiquette

by Nick Gisburne

His manner was exceptionally rude
An artificial birth is no excuse
Appearing on the street, completely nude
I don’t know why the future let him loose
Of course, we wrapped him quickly in a sheet
Jemima panicked; I was more robust
He limped inside the house and took a seat
The man was riddled, utterly, with rust
The office, I was sure, would understand
I took a day, to get him on his feet
However, what he claimed, and what he planned
Were notions no psychiatrist could treat
    He came to stop an ‘alien attack’
    I only hope the bugger won’t be back

The Fairy Man

by Nick Gisburne

The Fairy Man has brought the break of day
He seeks to sell his novelties by noon
We gather round the trinkets on the tray
The treasure of a silent, silver moon
Impatiently, we scan the crowded cart
To search for something precious, something new
What curios, what mystifying art
Will catch our gaze before he passes through?
Exquisite living dolls, on chains and hooks
Exotic fairies, captured as they fled
We know them from the stories, from the books
Such talismans protect us from their spread
    We bake and burn their bodies, cased in clay
    To keep their fairy wickedness away

Friday 25 June 2021

Queen T

by Nick Gisburne

Queen T is on the rampage once again
A lethal dose of fury, fused with hate
Her highest-ranking ministers, all men
Are dead as dirt, five headless heads of state
A stern decree accompanies their doom
“They spied upon me spawning in the lake!
And while this was more public than my tomb
Such vulgar mischief makes my thorax ache”
She mourns for them, despite their vacant necks
But grinds her beak with less than heartfelt pain
Demanding five more ministers, for sex
Unsatisfied, they too are swiftly slain
    Her tentacles are ready for a rest
    Beheading humans makes her so depressed

In Your Head

by Nick Gisburne

Of all the swirling images you see
Are any of them steady in your mind?
They ricochet at random, fast and free
There really is no knowing what you’ll find
And what if what you told me was a lie
A forgery, a fantasy, instead?
Remember screaming? Now remember why
What really happened when you hit your head?
I need to take you where you think we are
You’re floating on a multicoloured cloud
But maybe your collision in the car
Is why the lights are bright, the sirens loud
    The sedative is simple. Count the sheep
    Don’t worry. I am just a doctor. Sleep

A Nobody

by Nick Gisburne

A nobody. A failed, forgotten man
A dusty pile of papers, old and worn
I have no place, no past, no dream, no plan
No trace prevails to prove that I was born
A troubled journey, disappointing, long
Has led me into limbo, grim and grey
Too powerless to prosper, to belong
Success, it seems, has turned its face away
My worth within the world was ever small
But settled in this quiet room, alone
I cherish treasured times I still recall
Content with how much living I have known
    Perhaps I am what I was meant to be
    A nobody, with no one here but me

Thursday 24 June 2021

Jehovah’s House of Flesh

by Nick Gisburne

Surrendering to pleasure is the key
With decadence our menu is replete
Voracious though your appetites may be
Finesse in feeding complements the meat
Each dish is served to savour as it screams
The shiver in the sweat expands the taste
Our blood is pure, a virgin’s darkest dreams
Indulge, for these are sins to be embraced
An elegant array of living food
With varying intensities of harm
Is best enjoyed with friends at midnight, nude
The restaurant is ripe with ruthless charm
    We kidnap daily; every feast is fresh
    Be wicked, at Jehovah’s House of Flesh

Genesis 6-5

by Nick Gisburne

The atmosphere is edgy, tight and tense
With rumours of a dazzling device
Unparallelled excitement and suspense
No marvel short of magic will suffice
The figurehead, the hero, takes the stage
And signals for their silence with a hand
His words are weapons, smouldering with rage
And those who listen do not understand
He tells them they are disappointing drones
Infecting every surface with their sin
But chemicals, embedded in their phones
Will let a true utopia begin
    He sends a signal: Genesis 6-5
    And seven billion souls do not survive

Wednesday 23 June 2021

A Shadow from the Seas

by Nick Gisburne

A wasted drop, a single splash of blood
Is all she leaves as witness on the waves
Depravity, that savage, frenzied flood
Compels her soul to slither from the caves
With every crimson murder, every crime
She wallows in the well of humankind
Her first is lost, forgotten, choked by time
A memory too faded now to find
She preys upon the people of the shore
Upon the fools who linger, unaware
The feast. The fever. Always there is more
She tastes the sweetest shiver of despair
    What drives her lust, her longing, few can tell
    A shadow from the spiteful seas of Hell

Tuesday 22 June 2021

Enchanted to the Tits

by Nick Gisburne

My body is enchanted to the tits
With every bone bewitched by hell and hurt
The magic is bewildering my wits
A spill of pagan potion stains my shirt
Whatever creepy voodoo I have drunk
The history of witchcraft will recall
A lone apprentice, punishing his junk
No competence, no aptitude at all
A morning filled with desolate despair
Reveals me in a stinking, shallow grave
Demented locusts, nesting in my hair
Become the crunchy calories I crave
    My Wizard University degree
    Is all I ever wanted it to be


by Nick Gisburne

She sees the distant impact, feels the shock
A brutal burst of violence and flame
The motley dwellings strewn around the dock
Are shattered by a nightmare without name
She rides above the twisting winds of heat
Reminded of the crimes for which they pay
The power, smooth, electric, at her feet
Has given her this moment, here, today
Yet still her soul is empty, incomplete
She circles, twice, conflicted and confused
The flavour of revenge is far from sweet
As though a plea for peace has been refused
    They killed her child, and she has killed them all
    But why does this, her vengeance, seem so small?

Monday 21 June 2021


by Nick Gisburne

Each minute is more precious than you think
The tides of time will always make it so
We lose them all, each momentary link
Until the curtain falls and we must go
If you can find a minute more of life
With all the wit and wisdom in your head
Cut free that tiny sliver with a knife
And give it to a dying soul instead
Despair to watch the minutes pass you by
For only those you capture are your own
And if, someday, you think to wonder why
Perhaps one may return to you, alone
    We live a life of minutes, one by one
    Watch over them, before the last is gone

A Ticket to the Edge

by Nick Gisburne

The universe is boundless, some will say
But I just bought a ticket to the edge
The Shadow Ship will take us all the way
We fly to face infinity, they pledge
With paradox and promise on our plates
We spin towards unfathomable space
The wormhole-warping drive accelerates
To catch the curved continuum we chase
We skid along the shores of crooked time
Beholden to the vortex of the void
And as our engine coughs with cosmic grime
Appalling preconceptions are destroyed
    The border of infinity! Behold!
    It’s really dark, and really fucking cold

Church Electrica

by Nick Gisburne

The cold machine emulsifies her eyes
But now she sees more clearly than before
Hypnotic threads of silver roll and rise
With grace, with purpose, through her flesh they pour
Her stale synthetic blood, polluted, weak
Is channelled to the reclamation drains
The tools of Church Electrica, unique
Rebuild the shattered shell of her remains
A resurrection grid, alive, aware
Connects her to the infinite abyss
And science far more potent than a prayer
Initiates a sacred state of bliss
    Renewal is a gift, another dawn
    She lives again, a mechanoid, reborn

Saturday 19 June 2021

An Anthem of Damnation

by Nick Gisburne

We shape a song of blood, of death, of pain
To raise a crooked army from the grave
A swarm, a legion, soldiers, slaves, the slain
Advances to the city, wave on wave
How safe inside their dreams the guilty sleep
But every bone will break as brittle sticks
Let those who fight us die, while those who weep
Find torment on a flaming crucifix
The empire of the dead will be restored
For this we call each heart, each voice, to sing
No justice is more savage than the sword
Tonight we cut a kingdom from a king
    An anthem of damnation splits the sky
    And all who hear its decadence will die

Friday 18 June 2021

Join the Game

by Nick Gisburne

My closest friend is loyal to the last
A selfless soul, a dear, devoted man
He throws the dice of death, a single cast
A trigger to the substance of my plan
He strips my body bare to bathe the skin
And slides a silver coin between my teeth
The wheel of demons slowly starts to spin
It sends me to the halls of Hell beneath
The coffin, covered, bricked inside a vault
Is hidden from the gaze of angry gods
My comrade draws a pentacle of salt
Believing I alone defy the odds
    The coin is cashed, my stake to join the game
    I play with demons, keepers of the flame

This Is The Way

by Nick Gisburne

The whistle signals everything to stop
A message from authority will play
Transmission bulbs on every corner drop
Electrified to keep us all at bay
The Leader’s voice is loaded with regret
Example must be made of selfish fools
Their timely executions will beget
Two vacancies in patriotic schools
The pliant minds of we who must obey
Receive the news that rations will be skipped
Saluting, we accept this is The Way
Dissent would see us mercilessly whipped
    The whistle sends us back to face the grind
    To snatch what broken future we can find

Thursday 17 June 2021

The Promise of Peace

by Nick Gisburne

The deal is done, the signatures still wet
A peace, a promise, nothing can betray
The scars will not be easy to forget
But let us lock our bitterness away
The years of war were tragic, lethal, long
Vendetta, cold and callous, raw and real
With this, our plan, our purpose, we are strong
United, light with darkness, stone with steel
Let centuries of struggle disappear
As one, the possibilities are vast
The path to hope and harmony is clear
A future forged together, here, at last
    Before the final signatures are dry
    We find the peace, the promise, is a lie

Wednesday 16 June 2021

See Me Die

by Nick Gisburne

Seize the pulsing muscle of the heart
Tear it from the chamber of my chest
Crack me open. Split my skin apart
Sacrifice the soul I once possessed
Thrust your thumbs to blind my bleeding eyes
Smash the skull and kick me as I fall
Slaughter me, the woman you despise
Cut my corpse to pieces. Burn them all
Feed my bones and bowels to the crows
Grind the smoking scraps they will not eat
Trample them as dirt to decompose
Mutilate the memory, the meat
    See me as I suffer. See me die
    See me, in the nightmares you deny

Something Sinister

by Nick Gisburne

A thousand pearls are pressed beneath the earth
Between the sacred cycles of the moon
The soul inside each seed believes its birth
Is destined for the heat, the height, of noon
But in the perfect pocket of its shell
The source of something sinister awakes
Its twisting tendrils split, and spread, and swell
And, grown too far, too soon, its prison breaks
The deviant, a greedy parasite
Ingests the weak, each helpless, pristine pearl
And long before the dawn can lend its light
Upon this field of treason stands a girl
    What schemes her mind may gather, grasp and grow
    An unsuspecting world will quickly know

Monday 14 June 2021

Singing Piggies

by Nick Gisburne

Erratic horses hinder my escape
And half a dozen piglets do not help
The tiny porkers, tied to me with tape
With every jolt or jiggle grunt and yelp
The posters, pasted high on every wall
Proclaim, “The Singing Piggies! Here! Today!”
The notion I would liberate them all
Seems less appealing now I’m on my way
We dash across a badly cobbled bridge
The carriage barrels blindly down the road
And as the panting horses crest a ridge
Triumphantly, their gallop can be slowed
    The piggies’ song would make an angel cry
    But all too soon their tender flesh will fry

A Waste of Human Skin

by Nick Gisburne

There is no question, you deserve to die
A sad, pathetic waste of human skin
If someone claims to hate you more than I
They’ll need a bigger voodoo doll, or pin
Your mother should have shot you in the head
Or bagged you up to throw you in a lake
A pile of meat and gristle, not quite dead
Your blank expression makes my eyeballs ache
A maggot owns more intellect than you
You have the wit and wisdom of a brush
Your imminent demise is overdue
I’d stab you, if I wasn’t in a rush
    Each customer complaint will make you scream
    So grab a phone, and welcome to the team

Sunday 13 June 2021

Splintered Space

by Nick Gisburne

A priceless piece, a shard of splintered space
Is missing from the crystal at its core
Insurance puts a builder on the case
Arriving with a hammer and a saw
The hole begins to crumble and collapse
He claims his work was finished, as described
The universe, now filled with fractal gaps
Is blamed on politicians, bought or bribed
The law declines to fine the folks at fault
Their drivers, cleaners, maids, are jailed for life
And somewhere, in a gem-encrusted vault
A rich man shows the splinter to his wife
    Infinity may shatter into ash
    But nothing is more powerful than cash

The Writhing Nightmare

by Nick Gisburne

Repulsive undulations, smooth and slick
Crescendo as the writhing nightmare nears
The deviance of every rhythmic click
Intensifies the fever of my fears
I dream my reckless probing had been curbed
But wishes will not fix a fool’s mistake
This ancient temple, hidden, undisturbed
Enticed me to a crypt, beneath the lake
Upon a heathen altar, black as jet
A sacrilege, a creature, cracked and dry
Perhaps it felt my heat, perhaps my sweat
I found the spark of evil in its eye
    Bewildered, lost, my senses must submit
    I know my fate, for I awakened it

Saturday 12 June 2021

Dark Souls Matter

by Nick Gisburne

New taxes on the ectoplasm trade
Infuriate the ghosts who haunt the mines
No spook accepts the deal the demons made
Cadavers storm a séance with their spines
And standing (floating) far above the crowd
With cryptic meanings mediums know well
A spectre in a ‘Dark Souls Matter’ shroud
Pays tribute to the working class of Hell
With exorcism problems unresolved
The spirit world defends the damned with pride
But legal rights are easily dissolved
When all of the participants have died
    From midnight, apparitions work to rule
    And overtime is banned for every ghoul

Dragon Bait

by Nick Gisburne

A crack of bone, a splintered, wrenching snap
The whiplash as the dragon’s tongue, released
Is driven to the centre of my trap
And smashes through the carcass of the beast
The bait, to him, a morsel, nothing more
But dragons have a legendary greed
Where every other hunter failed before
I know I have the cunning to succeed
My calculations, perfect and precise
Are focused on the furnace of its head
The dragon staggers, spinning, turning twice
And crashes, hard, as though its limbs were lead
    A dragon is impervious to death
    But not to half a ton of crystal meth

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

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

Thursday 10 June 2021

The Execution Tree

by Nick Gisburne

The dead are dragged behind us in the sea
A stain, a bloody scum, infects the waves
The voyage to the Execution Tree
Brings hope to every wretched soul it saves
We drive the oars to force the fleet along
Each weary heart too rotten to repair
And in the damned defiance of a song
Our ships release an anthem to the air
With guidance from the gods, we sight the shore
The shadow of the Tree deflects the dawn
Whatever pain or price was paid before
The contract for the sacrifice is drawn
    The tributes, raped and murdered, soil the sands
    A payment only evil understands

Pills and Powders

by Nick Gisburne

Impossible to penetrate the door
Another failed escape, like all the rest
Surrender leaves me feeble, as before
A fist, frustration, pounds upon my chest
Too terrified to twist another key
I bend beneath the burden of distress
A shadow soaks through everything I see
Each second thought becomes a second guess
Obsession steals the focus from the light
It follows me, forever, into sleep
I drown in pain and poison, day and night
The well of my addiction, wide and deep
    There is no way to leave this hated room
    Without the pills and powders I consume

Wednesday 9 June 2021

Pieces in a Game

by Nick Gisburne

Apocalypse: the final way to fight
A button, activated with a thumb
A cataclysmic holocaust of light
Leaves every atom sterile, silent, numb
As clouds of poison saturate the sky
Electric storms accelerate their spread
No witness will survive to wonder why
Forever purged, a desert, dark and dead
What septic mind, what madness, would agree
To smash this world to smoking dunes of dust?
What evil would incinerate the sea?
And yet, that curse will come, because it must
    When life and death are pieces in a game
    Who wins a war with no one left to blame?

The Archivist

by Nick Gisburne

I must confess that you are not alone
For those who see such wonders on display
Routinely find their senses overthrown
Though few may find the will to walk away
The science, lost, forgotten, still survives
An ancient art, too primitive to date
The thrill as each new specimen arrives
Is worth, beyond comparison, the wait
Each human head, upon its plinth of rock
Exquisitely preserved within these vaults
Is severed, cleanly, quickly, on the block
And mummified with oils and secret salts
    There is no finer archivist than I
    Please take a lasting look, before you die

Tuesday 8 June 2021


by Nick Gisburne

Deception drives a dagger through the heart
Too powerful, too painful, to avoid
And those who seek the secrets of its art
May find their plans, their promises, destroyed
A single foolish impulse stains the skin
It pulls the threads of honesty apart
A flicker, just a stolen spark of sin
Will finish more than it can ever start
A glance, a brief betrayal of the eyes
A small, unguarded moment of mistrust
Unlocks a tiny doorway into lies
Returning what was wonderful to dust
    There is no path more treacherous, no vice
    Deception carries all too high a price

The Last Defender

by Nick Gisburne

A surge of steam erupts in boiling clouds
Delighted children cheer as he arrives
Reflected in his sombre eyes, the crowds
Anticipate the lesson of their lives
The fables and the legends, all are true
This metal marvel really does exist
Immense, from bolt to plate, from skull to shoe
A child could fit within each mighty fist
The teacher quickly pacifies the class
And shares astounding stories from his past
A time when giant juggernauts of brass
Protected human cities to the last
    They screech, and snap their talons at his face
    The last defender of that hated race

Monday 7 June 2021

Tangled Timbers

by Nick Gisburne

She pounds the tangled timbers of the wreck
And fights to free the bodies from its hold
But kneeling on the vessel’s shattered deck
Her spirit, numb, surrenders to the cold
What twist of chance, that she alone survived?
What blessing, stripped from those who died this day?
She questions why the spiteful Fates contrived
To drag their dreams, their hopes, their lives, away
Perhaps they sleep, but none will ever wake
And only she will see the skies they sought
The wind, the waves, relentless as they break
Will never crack the courage she was taught
    She does not leave this memory behind
    It drives her to the future she must find

Sunday 6 June 2021

Venture Into Vice

by Nick Gisburne

I cast the bones, the runes, around my feet
My careful calculations are precise
A pounding of the heart, of every beat
Compels my soul to venture into vice
In whispered, cryptic mysteries, I speak
A cypher, tuned to touch the carnal plane
Illusion cloaks the shadowland I seek
A world of dreams, beyond a world of pain
I penetrate the soft and subtle space
And feel the flame, the wonder, warm, within
But I have come to drain this poisoned place
To smother every sign of shame and sin
    Yet here the heat is primal, savage, strong
    And I am burning, lost, where I belong

Saturday 5 June 2021

I Hear the Children Weep

by Nick Gisburne

My blistered fingers scratch and scrape the wall
They dig to reach that evil, other place
The children, trapped beyond it, cry and call
I somehow feel the fear on every face
I tunnel deeper, closer, almost there
Unfaltering, impossible to stop
My skin is slick with sweat, but still I swear
The wall will crumble long before I drop
They sealed them all, so many years ago
A hundred helpless orphans, left to die
They thought that no one else would ever know
Forgetting there were heroes, such as I
    And even when the doctors make me sleep
    Behind the wall I hear the children weep

Friday 4 June 2021

Twelve Million Seashells

by Nick Gisburne

She threads the tiny seashells, one by one
A sacred task, a worthy toil of time
And when she reaches out and there are none
She breathes a song, a rhythmic rush of rhyme
New treasures on the beaches are revealed
She bends to fill her basket, shell by shell
They offer no resistance; all must yield
And always, in the heart, her sorrows swell
For every shell she threads, a life was sold
Transported from the shores on which she stands
She promises their story will be told
With tiny seashells, gathered by her hands
    She hears them, weeping, calling from the waves
    And threads the shells, as once were chained the slaves

The Final Agony

by Nick Gisburne

Accept the final agony, defeat
As helpless as a tiny, broken toy
The light, the joy, the journey, is complete
Today I come with darkness, to destroy
Your body, scarred and striped, the wounds of war
Still clings to something destiny destroyed
The promises, the life you lived before
Are scattered, smoke and ashes in the void
My dream, my duty, always, is to kill
The terror, every painful piece, is true
I sense the soul, the spark, defiant, still
But know that there is nothing you can do
    The more you fight, the longer you will die
    But death is not a fate you can deny

Thursday 3 June 2021

A Symphony of the Soul

by Nick Gisburne

She probes her power, all that she has learned
The mesmerising mysteries of sound
Her fingers lure the shadows, black and burned
They tremble as their frequency is found
A voice, temptation, saturates her mind
A whisper of seduction sweeps the stage
Infernal strings serenely weave and wind
They spill a coiling chorus from its cage
The music soars, escaping; still she stands
She shifts and shapes, exquisite in control
A sea of sound, from ever-twisting hands
A symphony, assembled from her soul
    Crescendo, and the rapture of release
    And only in this moment is there peace

Wednesday 2 June 2021

We Fight

by Nick Gisburne

I grapple with the creature in the pit
A seething monster, summoned from the night
Repulsive organs separate and split
Disgorging deadly fluids as we fight
Its eyes are filled with violet and gold
A stare to freeze the rhythms of the mind
My fingers drive to dig a deeper hold
Aware the tail may strike me from behind
It struggles to return from whence it came
But knows I will afford it no escape
A scaly leg is twisted, almost lame
Yet still its mighty talons swing and scrape
    At last we hear the fearsome, final bell
    I win, but my opponent wrestled well

Tuesday 1 June 2021

Government Guidelines: You Are Possessed

by Nick Gisburne

Your spirit is an asset of the state
By order of the court, you are possessed
A surgeon will extract and terminate
The questionable thoughts your mind confessed
How pitiful the common people are
Unable to exist without control
A forcibly injected mental scar
Will confiscate the title to your soul
The treatment is effective and robust
All deviant emotions will be lost
Your government is caring, kind, and just
But chaos must be cleansed at any cost
    Beyond the grave this ruling will apply
    A sentence even death cannot defy