by Nick Gisburne
The clocks blow sugar tigers through my face
They wrap koala toes in rainbow clay
Tobacco snails pour soup from outer space
The snow cows interfere, but drain away
Spaghetti armadillos wax my chest
Their paws are tiny cakes, or so I thought
The custard queen breathes paint and chews my vest
She shines her cymbals with a squid she taught
In kilts of cloudy cloth, monastic toads
Build windmills from a purple tree of cheese
They sing of rum in French computer codes
While pompous oysters scrub my teeth with bees
The crunchy peanut universe is jammed
Experimental medicines be damned
Sunday, 24 January 2021
City of Despair
by Nick Gisburne
They seek the silver city of despair
The wretched, without number, without name
Their dreams, forgotten, lost, they know not where
Polluted by the secrets of their shame
The moment of arrival is at hand
A tide of weeping saturates the dawn
What stains their souls they do not understand
Too soiled, too sick, to ever be reborn
Behold the shining city, feel its pain
A prison, thick with blood and bone and skin
The screams for cold oblivion, in vain
Escape as twisted echoes from within
A silent, faceless beast unlocks the gate
It beckons them inside to meet their fate
They seek the silver city of despair
The wretched, without number, without name
Their dreams, forgotten, lost, they know not where
Polluted by the secrets of their shame
The moment of arrival is at hand
A tide of weeping saturates the dawn
What stains their souls they do not understand
Too soiled, too sick, to ever be reborn
Behold the shining city, feel its pain
A prison, thick with blood and bone and skin
The screams for cold oblivion, in vain
Escape as twisted echoes from within
A silent, faceless beast unlocks the gate
It beckons them inside to meet their fate
Friday, 22 January 2021
Maga City Gone
by Nick Gisburne
Remember Maga, Land of Those Who Lost
Recall its twisted demons, how they raged
A mighty wall, unfinished, at what cost?
The prisons, where the little ones were caged
An orange painted monster seized the prize
He soiled the white-walled palace, sick with hate
Polluted streams of poison spilled his lies
His appetite for worship none could sate
To save his crown the Maganites marched on
He promised he would lead them up the hill
But when they stormed the summit he was gone
The tyrant never fought, and never will
The power from his tiny hands has passed
We pray the gods will let his silence last
Remember Maga, Land of Those Who Lost
Recall its twisted demons, how they raged
A mighty wall, unfinished, at what cost?
The prisons, where the little ones were caged
An orange painted monster seized the prize
He soiled the white-walled palace, sick with hate
Polluted streams of poison spilled his lies
His appetite for worship none could sate
To save his crown the Maganites marched on
He promised he would lead them up the hill
But when they stormed the summit he was gone
The tyrant never fought, and never will
The power from his tiny hands has passed
We pray the gods will let his silence last
Tuesday, 19 January 2021
The Tainted Angel
by Nick Gisburne
The tainted angel spurns the sacred light
She curses, spitting, screaming at the Sun
Descending on the righteous with her spite
Her will, her fury, vengeance, shall be done
She hides the children men have tried to break
Their faces scarred by secrecy and sin
But theirs is not a torment she can take
The sickness lingers, festering within
The seams around their souls were picked apart
Defiled with soot and ashes, dirt and dust
The blameless burn, and yet each beating heart
Betrays the names of those who broke its trust
The tainted angel finds them, one by one
And though they beg for mercy, there is none
The tainted angel spurns the sacred light
She curses, spitting, screaming at the Sun
Descending on the righteous with her spite
Her will, her fury, vengeance, shall be done
She hides the children men have tried to break
Their faces scarred by secrecy and sin
But theirs is not a torment she can take
The sickness lingers, festering within
The seams around their souls were picked apart
Defiled with soot and ashes, dirt and dust
The blameless burn, and yet each beating heart
Betrays the names of those who broke its trust
The tainted angel finds them, one by one
And though they beg for mercy, there is none
Saturday, 16 January 2021
The Secrets of the Will
by Nick Gisburne
The swankiest of socialites is dead
Like vultures, greedy relatives appear
The secrets of the will must soon be read
In legal chambers, splendid yet austere
A fine champagne is popped and poured and sipped
A glass for each, for these, the shameless kin
They claw and clutch the table; chairs are gripped
The sombre speaker rises to begin
They crowd like twitching mice around a cheese
Besotted by the lust for what they seek
The testament is read with practised ease
Yet none are left to listen, or to speak
“I truly hope you drank this bottle dry
Enjoy the poison, think of me, and die”
The swankiest of socialites is dead
Like vultures, greedy relatives appear
The secrets of the will must soon be read
In legal chambers, splendid yet austere
A fine champagne is popped and poured and sipped
A glass for each, for these, the shameless kin
They claw and clutch the table; chairs are gripped
The sombre speaker rises to begin
They crowd like twitching mice around a cheese
Besotted by the lust for what they seek
The testament is read with practised ease
Yet none are left to listen, or to speak
“I truly hope you drank this bottle dry
Enjoy the poison, think of me, and die”
Thursday, 7 January 2021
Unhappy Meal for One
by Nick Gisburne
All hail the demon, mighty overlord!
We summon thee to liberate these lands
Bring heathen hearts the sentence of thy sword
Their bodies screaming, slaughtered at thy hands
The dead are so delicious in defeat
Their bones repay the promises we gave
Accept this sacred food, their flesh as meat
Return then, home, in triumph, to thy cave
There will be no dessert course, Great One, no
Don’t growl; a binding covenant is real
Thy contract mentions ‘eat the dead and go’
’Twas signed and sealed in blood, a demon’s deal
These witches will escort thee to thy ship
I don’t suppose you’d like to leave a tip?
All hail the demon, mighty overlord!
We summon thee to liberate these lands
Bring heathen hearts the sentence of thy sword
Their bodies screaming, slaughtered at thy hands
The dead are so delicious in defeat
Their bones repay the promises we gave
Accept this sacred food, their flesh as meat
Return then, home, in triumph, to thy cave
There will be no dessert course, Great One, no
Don’t growl; a binding covenant is real
Thy contract mentions ‘eat the dead and go’
’Twas signed and sealed in blood, a demon’s deal
These witches will escort thee to thy ship
I don’t suppose you’d like to leave a tip?
Wednesday, 6 January 2021
Derek (Award Winning Hero)
by Nick Gisburne
He lunges into legend with his axe
He’s buffed and brawny, muscles pumped and primed
The hero’s hair is slick with styling wax
And every thrust magnificently timed
The ladies swoon and flock to see him fight
His loin cloth fills a wench’s wettest dream
Today it seems that something isn’t right
He’s out of breath and running out of steam
Back home, he sips his cocoa, laced with gin
And polishes his ‘Best Marauder’ prize
He longs for one more fight and one less chin
And wonders when he’ll start to fossilise
His eighty-second year has fallen flat
No pussy now for Derek, just a cat
He lunges into legend with his axe
He’s buffed and brawny, muscles pumped and primed
The hero’s hair is slick with styling wax
And every thrust magnificently timed
The ladies swoon and flock to see him fight
His loin cloth fills a wench’s wettest dream
Today it seems that something isn’t right
He’s out of breath and running out of steam
Back home, he sips his cocoa, laced with gin
And polishes his ‘Best Marauder’ prize
He longs for one more fight and one less chin
And wonders when he’ll start to fossilise
His eighty-second year has fallen flat
No pussy now for Derek, just a cat
Staying In
by Nick Gisburne
I really can’t be bothered going out
I’d rather sit here, festering away
Do all you want to threaten me or shout
It’s just another boring, crappy day
I tried it once before, you may recall
We got as far as putting on my coat
But then I had a thought: just fuck it all
I’d rather take a razor to my throat
You’re free to do whatever you may please
But never think I’m stepping through that door
If you could prove the moon is made of cheese
I’d still repeat the words I’ve said before:
I’m fake, a doll - I’m plastic, built for sex
And no one will believe I am your ex
I really can’t be bothered going out
I’d rather sit here, festering away
Do all you want to threaten me or shout
It’s just another boring, crappy day
I tried it once before, you may recall
We got as far as putting on my coat
But then I had a thought: just fuck it all
I’d rather take a razor to my throat
You’re free to do whatever you may please
But never think I’m stepping through that door
If you could prove the moon is made of cheese
I’d still repeat the words I’ve said before:
I’m fake, a doll - I’m plastic, built for sex
And no one will believe I am your ex
Tuesday, 5 January 2021
Bitter Blood
by Nick Gisburne
Her poison-painted talon slits the skin
It frees a pulse of shining crimson pearls
The hunger rises, burning from within
Obsession, hot and heady, swarms and swirls
The blood, at first, is bitter on her lips
The smoke of midnight sullies what was whole
But with her twisting tongue she seeks and sips
And tastes the perfect sweetness of the soul
She drives a deeper channel, to the source
And wallows in the surging tide of death
It suffocates her senses with its force
Enveloping her body and her breath
As darkness drains the essence of her life
Its poison paints the talon of the knife
Her poison-painted talon slits the skin
It frees a pulse of shining crimson pearls
The hunger rises, burning from within
Obsession, hot and heady, swarms and swirls
The blood, at first, is bitter on her lips
The smoke of midnight sullies what was whole
But with her twisting tongue she seeks and sips
And tastes the perfect sweetness of the soul
She drives a deeper channel, to the source
And wallows in the surging tide of death
It suffocates her senses with its force
Enveloping her body and her breath
As darkness drains the essence of her life
Its poison paints the talon of the knife
Monday, 4 January 2021
Locked Within
by Nick Gisburne
Her eyes are slow and sober, cold and grey
She scans the sterile prison with her mind
The passions from her past are locked away
No memory, no life, is left to find
She closes from the world her true intent
No drug, no clever cure, can breach this wall
They think her hatred lost, her anger spent
Within, she builds a blaze to burn them all
She waits, for time will incubate her lies
It comes, the day when she must be released
And when they see the fury fill her eyes
Their blood will feed the hunger of the beast
The devil, locked within, will not break free
Until her evil offers it the key
Her eyes are slow and sober, cold and grey
She scans the sterile prison with her mind
The passions from her past are locked away
No memory, no life, is left to find
She closes from the world her true intent
No drug, no clever cure, can breach this wall
They think her hatred lost, her anger spent
Within, she builds a blaze to burn them all
She waits, for time will incubate her lies
It comes, the day when she must be released
And when they see the fury fill her eyes
Their blood will feed the hunger of the beast
The devil, locked within, will not break free
Until her evil offers it the key
The Wisdom of the World
by Nick Gisburne
The books spill out in waves to flood the floor
And lost among their pages sits a boy
With every question answered there are more
They promise him the path to peace and joy
He feeds upon the wisdom of the world
Devouring ancient lessons taught through time
And as the signs he seeks are each unfurled
He meets another mountain he must climb
He listens, hearing footsteps in the street
And trembles to the music of her voice
Without her love his life is incomplete
The day she breathes his name he can rejoice
His books describe the deepest, darkest art
But none reveal the doorway to a heart
The books spill out in waves to flood the floor
And lost among their pages sits a boy
With every question answered there are more
They promise him the path to peace and joy
He feeds upon the wisdom of the world
Devouring ancient lessons taught through time
And as the signs he seeks are each unfurled
He meets another mountain he must climb
He listens, hearing footsteps in the street
And trembles to the music of her voice
Without her love his life is incomplete
The day she breathes his name he can rejoice
His books describe the deepest, darkest art
But none reveal the doorway to a heart
Sunday, 3 January 2021
Broken Domes
by Nick Gisburne
The Sisters of the Shrine exhaust their pills
Their flesh soon blisters, bursting, like the Domes
Disease and death awaits them in these hills
Convulsing victims, choking in their homes
The jewelled Sacred Cities shine no more
Defences smashed to atoms, worthless, dead
The skies grow darker; poisons swirl and pour
And, where they touch it, life has burned or bled
The Matron of the Order stands to speak
She clutches at the handle of her cane
And curses all the lies which leave men weak
Her scorn is thick with vitriol, profane
“Our god has rained destruction on mankind
Our hopes, our dreams, our faith, were always blind”
The Sisters of the Shrine exhaust their pills
Their flesh soon blisters, bursting, like the Domes
Disease and death awaits them in these hills
Convulsing victims, choking in their homes
The jewelled Sacred Cities shine no more
Defences smashed to atoms, worthless, dead
The skies grow darker; poisons swirl and pour
And, where they touch it, life has burned or bled
The Matron of the Order stands to speak
She clutches at the handle of her cane
And curses all the lies which leave men weak
Her scorn is thick with vitriol, profane
“Our god has rained destruction on mankind
Our hopes, our dreams, our faith, were always blind”
Thursday, 31 December 2020
Scarecrow Seamen
by Nick Gisburne
I swept the scowling scarecrow from my bed
And drove him up a drainpipe to the roof
He fell, a triple spin with twisting head
But lived and laughed, pristine and plummet-proof
“Invincible!” he crowed. “Let death concede!”
And summoned there one thousand of his kin
They commandeered a ship, to sail at speed
Demanding that the mermaids knit them skin
The scarecrow seamen whipped the whistling waves
But mastering the tides is almost art
Regretfully, they spiralled to their graves
Their soaking stalks washed wide, flung far apart
Their captain could endure the shame no more
The last to drown, his was the final straw
I swept the scowling scarecrow from my bed
And drove him up a drainpipe to the roof
He fell, a triple spin with twisting head
But lived and laughed, pristine and plummet-proof
“Invincible!” he crowed. “Let death concede!”
And summoned there one thousand of his kin
They commandeered a ship, to sail at speed
Demanding that the mermaids knit them skin
The scarecrow seamen whipped the whistling waves
But mastering the tides is almost art
Regretfully, they spiralled to their graves
Their soaking stalks washed wide, flung far apart
Their captain could endure the shame no more
The last to drown, his was the final straw
Wednesday, 30 December 2020
Hunting Spirits
by Nick Gisburne
The spirit hunter prowls the halls at night
And with her strange devices scans the gloom
Reactions rare as these disturb her sight
The focus of the force: a single room
She shivers, knowing she will be the first
The one to prove the shadow realm is real
Domains of darkness, by the ancients cursed
Will show their secrets if she breaks the seal
The evidence is clear and does not lie
A seamless door, a simple, sacred sign
Beyond it dwell the demons all deny
Her instruments are certain: there are nine
They strike, with tooth and claw, again, again
And drag her ghost within - they now are ten
The spirit hunter prowls the halls at night
And with her strange devices scans the gloom
Reactions rare as these disturb her sight
The focus of the force: a single room
She shivers, knowing she will be the first
The one to prove the shadow realm is real
Domains of darkness, by the ancients cursed
Will show their secrets if she breaks the seal
The evidence is clear and does not lie
A seamless door, a simple, sacred sign
Beyond it dwell the demons all deny
Her instruments are certain: there are nine
They strike, with tooth and claw, again, again
And drag her ghost within - they now are ten
Tuesday, 29 December 2020
A Touching Christmas Tale
by Nick Gisburne
The snow on Christmas Eve was deep and damp
And lo, there came a knocking at the door
’Twas there I saw a ragged, wretched tramp
Who sang sweet songs of Christmas cheer, and more
He touched my heart and gave my soul a shake
That one so poor as he could bring such joy
I bade him share a meal, a hearty steak
And learned of life when he was just a boy
He smiled and settled deep into the chair
His glass now drained, he drifted into sleep
I carried him outside to take the air
And sliced a knife across his neckline, deep
He touched us all, as children, long ago
And died at Christmas, bleeding in the snow
The snow on Christmas Eve was deep and damp
And lo, there came a knocking at the door
’Twas there I saw a ragged, wretched tramp
Who sang sweet songs of Christmas cheer, and more
He touched my heart and gave my soul a shake
That one so poor as he could bring such joy
I bade him share a meal, a hearty steak
And learned of life when he was just a boy
He smiled and settled deep into the chair
His glass now drained, he drifted into sleep
I carried him outside to take the air
And sliced a knife across his neckline, deep
He touched us all, as children, long ago
And died at Christmas, bleeding in the snow
Welcome to the Dream
by Nick Gisburne
Good friends, we’d like to take you for a ride
A journey filled with fortune, paved with gold
The secrets of success are all inside
Step up, be quick, be confident, be bold
Believe us, every word is clear and true
This really is a chance to change your fate
The promise comes direct, from us to you
Don’t miss it - join us now, it’s not too late
Your cash is all secure, we guarantee
Invested in the safest place of all
The riches you will earn will set you free
The risk? Infinitesimally small
You’ve signed the contract, welcome to the dream
Now hold on to your fantasies... and scream
Good friends, we’d like to take you for a ride
A journey filled with fortune, paved with gold
The secrets of success are all inside
Step up, be quick, be confident, be bold
Believe us, every word is clear and true
This really is a chance to change your fate
The promise comes direct, from us to you
Don’t miss it - join us now, it’s not too late
Your cash is all secure, we guarantee
Invested in the safest place of all
The riches you will earn will set you free
The risk? Infinitesimally small
You’ve signed the contract, welcome to the dream
Now hold on to your fantasies... and scream
Monday, 28 December 2020
Dinner at the Bistro
by Nick Gisburne
At first a little awkward, nervous, shy
A drink or two, to ease the nerves away
And soon the afternoon has passed us by
We share our hopes, our dreams, and vow to stay
The summer sunset bathes us in its glow
We shiver as the moon begins to rise
A thrill, an ache, a longing starts to grow
It fills our senses, burning black the eyes
They chain us to the tables as we turn
The urge to rip and render grips the soul
Between each screaming course our bodies yearn
To tear our dates apart, to eat them whole
The fury fades, we know not why or when
But when the moon is full we’ll dine again
At first a little awkward, nervous, shy
A drink or two, to ease the nerves away
And soon the afternoon has passed us by
We share our hopes, our dreams, and vow to stay
The summer sunset bathes us in its glow
We shiver as the moon begins to rise
A thrill, an ache, a longing starts to grow
It fills our senses, burning black the eyes
They chain us to the tables as we turn
The urge to rip and render grips the soul
Between each screaming course our bodies yearn
To tear our dates apart, to eat them whole
The fury fades, we know not why or when
But when the moon is full we’ll dine again
Sunday, 27 December 2020
The Silver Seed
by Nick Gisburne
It sailed upon the wind, a silver seed
To fall and flourish, many moons away
The wisest thought it wonderful indeed
It shimmered, shone, then faded, every day
But greedy men made copies, clean and new
They blazed as bright, yet did not lose their glow
And though these flawless flowers spread and grew
They brought no joy, no crowds to see the show
Believers found the fading flower’s bed
And witnessed there a staggering display
So bright, it seemed to burn, then withered, dead
And lifted by the wind it sailed away
The silver seed grows hidden from mankind
With magic we were never meant to find
It sailed upon the wind, a silver seed
To fall and flourish, many moons away
The wisest thought it wonderful indeed
It shimmered, shone, then faded, every day
But greedy men made copies, clean and new
They blazed as bright, yet did not lose their glow
And though these flawless flowers spread and grew
They brought no joy, no crowds to see the show
Believers found the fading flower’s bed
And witnessed there a staggering display
So bright, it seemed to burn, then withered, dead
And lifted by the wind it sailed away
The silver seed grows hidden from mankind
With magic we were never meant to find
Wednesday, 23 December 2020
The King of Nowhere
by Nick Gisburne
He hurls the quartered torso to the hounds
And spits to curse the severed head, his prize
Upon his soul a storm of slaughter pounds
The winds of flaming fury blind his eyes
The last of them, his enemies, lie dead
But every ally fought and fell this day
From filthy fields of blood, stained black and red
A tide of hearts and hopes has drained away
He kneels, alone, one man to count the cost
And though the price is clear, the spoils are not
Who crowns this king when every life is lost?
Who rules a graveyard rank with rats and rot?
The King of Nowhere, lord of death and war
Remembers nothing he was fighting for
He hurls the quartered torso to the hounds
And spits to curse the severed head, his prize
Upon his soul a storm of slaughter pounds
The winds of flaming fury blind his eyes
The last of them, his enemies, lie dead
But every ally fought and fell this day
From filthy fields of blood, stained black and red
A tide of hearts and hopes has drained away
He kneels, alone, one man to count the cost
And though the price is clear, the spoils are not
Who crowns this king when every life is lost?
Who rules a graveyard rank with rats and rot?
The King of Nowhere, lord of death and war
Remembers nothing he was fighting for
Tuesday, 24 November 2020
Trump, Trump, Trump
by Nick Gisburne
Donnie the President packed his trunk
And said goodbye to the Whitehouse
Off he went with a trumpety-trump
Trump, Trump, Trump
Donnie the President packed his trunk
Election strategy bungled
Off he went with a trumpety-trump
Trump, Trump, Trump
Donnie the President packed his trunk
And said goodbye to the Whitehouse
Off he went with a trumpety-trump
Trump, Trump, Trump
Donnie the President packed his trunk
Election strategy bungled
Off he went with a trumpety-trump
Trump, Trump, Trump