by Nick Gisburne
She stabs the sleeping beauty through the heart
And takes her place to catch herself a prince
Her spells reveal that one will soon depart
A royal she can gut and grind to mince
They always seek the virginal, the pure
Parading to the peasantry their prize
But this one will be absolutely sure
Of how to love a knife between the eyes
Perhaps he is a rugged, handsome brute
Who rides because his muscles never rest
With all the social graces of a newt
Appreciating nothing but the quest
But he, who knows the magic of a witch
Decapitates the evil, sleeping bitch
Sunday, 10 October 2021
A World Renewed
by Nick Gisburne
They seal us in the hibernation banks
Now spared the Great Contagion, we will live
The sleep is entered freely, with our thanks
On Doomsday we have nothing else to give
I find I am the only one awake
Surviving countless centuries of sleep
Whatever sterile corridor I take
The dormant are a thousand levels deep
The monitors display a world renewed
A paradise has healed the lands we choked
It waits for us to enter, to intrude
To desecrate its beauty, unprovoked
Without regret, I reach to pull the plug
And suffocate my species with a shrug
They seal us in the hibernation banks
Now spared the Great Contagion, we will live
The sleep is entered freely, with our thanks
On Doomsday we have nothing else to give
I find I am the only one awake
Surviving countless centuries of sleep
Whatever sterile corridor I take
The dormant are a thousand levels deep
The monitors display a world renewed
A paradise has healed the lands we choked
It waits for us to enter, to intrude
To desecrate its beauty, unprovoked
Without regret, I reach to pull the plug
And suffocate my species with a shrug
Saturday, 9 October 2021
Government Guidelines: Hope is Cancelled
by Nick Gisburne
Your long-term, lifetime membership to hope
Is cancelled, voided - now, at once, today
A special gift, a noose of nylon rope
Will compensate for what we took away
A more aggressive attitude to fate
Replaces unacceptable belief
That destiny, delivered on a plate
May somehow feed you anything but grief
Your government, of course, is here to serve
With mandatory drugs to calm your mood
Transmitters in the skin, and every nerve
Will train your mind to welcome servitude
With hope already banished from the head
Your freedoms, your emotions, all, are dead
Your long-term, lifetime membership to hope
Is cancelled, voided - now, at once, today
A special gift, a noose of nylon rope
Will compensate for what we took away
A more aggressive attitude to fate
Replaces unacceptable belief
That destiny, delivered on a plate
May somehow feed you anything but grief
Your government, of course, is here to serve
With mandatory drugs to calm your mood
Transmitters in the skin, and every nerve
Will train your mind to welcome servitude
With hope already banished from the head
Your freedoms, your emotions, all, are dead
Hold the Line
by Nick Gisburne
With every death the circle shrinks again
A hundred, left to generate a force
To save this world of worthless, mortal men
From all the grim descendants of the Norse
Immensities of shadow push and press
To break the bright perfection of the shield
A swarm, a sickness, eager to outguess
Defences they are certain soon must yield
How elegant, how hideous, the thought
That in the deep infinities of space
A hundred sacred sentinels have fought
To keep the gods of darkness from this place
Another falls, and now the ninety-nine
Preserve, protect, and pray, to hold the line
With every death the circle shrinks again
A hundred, left to generate a force
To save this world of worthless, mortal men
From all the grim descendants of the Norse
Immensities of shadow push and press
To break the bright perfection of the shield
A swarm, a sickness, eager to outguess
Defences they are certain soon must yield
How elegant, how hideous, the thought
That in the deep infinities of space
A hundred sacred sentinels have fought
To keep the gods of darkness from this place
Another falls, and now the ninety-nine
Preserve, protect, and pray, to hold the line
The Wreath of Triumph
by Nick Gisburne
Accept the wreath of triumph round your neck
The titles - victor, champion - are yours
But all we see are sideshows, not the cheque
The money makes a winner, not the scores
With generations hungry in their beds
Your wealth could pay to flood the world with food
In places where they severe hands and heads
You guard your words, reluctant to be rude
As kings you rule the pinnacles of sport
But never raise a voice or make a splash
Defending dark agreements to extort
The object of your only passion: cash
So play the anthems, raise the trophies high
For triumphs, bought and sold while others die
Accept the wreath of triumph round your neck
The titles - victor, champion - are yours
But all we see are sideshows, not the cheque
The money makes a winner, not the scores
With generations hungry in their beds
Your wealth could pay to flood the world with food
In places where they severe hands and heads
You guard your words, reluctant to be rude
As kings you rule the pinnacles of sport
But never raise a voice or make a splash
Defending dark agreements to extort
The object of your only passion: cash
So play the anthems, raise the trophies high
For triumphs, bought and sold while others die
Friday, 8 October 2021
The Ragged Royal T
by Nick Gisburne
There’s killing, when you need it, at a price
A dirty market, evil for a fee
Some other sons of bitches tap you twice
They never met the Ragged Royal T
A quarter buys a bullet in a bar
A penny puts a beating on a boy
A dollar gets a murdered movie star
A dime for any dumbass we destroy
For homicide we haggle, always down
You’ll never find a wallet in your way
A drive-by, for a discount, any town
We punish for whatever you can pay
When life is cheaper, always undercut
A nickel? That’s a dagger to the gut
There’s killing, when you need it, at a price
A dirty market, evil for a fee
Some other sons of bitches tap you twice
They never met the Ragged Royal T
A quarter buys a bullet in a bar
A penny puts a beating on a boy
A dollar gets a murdered movie star
A dime for any dumbass we destroy
For homicide we haggle, always down
You’ll never find a wallet in your way
A drive-by, for a discount, any town
We punish for whatever you can pay
When life is cheaper, always undercut
A nickel? That’s a dagger to the gut
What Was Me
by Nick Gisburne
As all my spiteful nightmares melt and mix
A treatment is decided and assigned
They say it is the only way to fix
The infinite perversions of the mind
But no one lets me understand the cure
Or tells me why there can be no return
Compelled to purge my trauma, to be pure
The name of it is all I ever learn
Lobotomy. A dense, delicious word
A doorway to imaginary lands
The seas, the skies, are bright and blue and blurred
A world of warmth, of silk, and soothing hands
I live, I breathe, untethered, floating, free
Unable to remember what was me
As all my spiteful nightmares melt and mix
A treatment is decided and assigned
They say it is the only way to fix
The infinite perversions of the mind
But no one lets me understand the cure
Or tells me why there can be no return
Compelled to purge my trauma, to be pure
The name of it is all I ever learn
Lobotomy. A dense, delicious word
A doorway to imaginary lands
The seas, the skies, are bright and blue and blurred
A world of warmth, of silk, and soothing hands
I live, I breathe, untethered, floating, free
Unable to remember what was me
Her Perfect Day
by Nick Gisburne
She thinks she is too broken to exist
She thinks there is no sunlight in the sky
She thinks this wine-soaked, morbid, mental mist
Has cheated her pathetic plans to die
She thinks she ruined all she ever built
She thinks that life is ludicrous and long
She thinks there is no refuge from the guilt
Of knowing what she does is always wrong
She thinks that all the good times were a tease
She thinks she will not visit them again
She thinks she knows a way that she can seize
Her spirit from the grip of angry men
She thinks his death will take her pain away
And so she waits, and plans her perfect day
She thinks she is too broken to exist
She thinks there is no sunlight in the sky
She thinks this wine-soaked, morbid, mental mist
Has cheated her pathetic plans to die
She thinks she ruined all she ever built
She thinks that life is ludicrous and long
She thinks there is no refuge from the guilt
Of knowing what she does is always wrong
She thinks that all the good times were a tease
She thinks she will not visit them again
She thinks she knows a way that she can seize
Her spirit from the grip of angry men
She thinks his death will take her pain away
And so she waits, and plans her perfect day
Thursday, 7 October 2021
Tiny Evil
by Nick Gisburne
If you are such a tiny evil eye
How truly diabolic can you be?
I have a simple question: tell me why
Should anything so tiny trouble me?
In truth, I do not celebrate my size
I cannot shake a mountain to its core
But you, my friend, would certainly be wise
To think of what is easy to ignore
A simple vessel bursting in the brain
A problematic rhythm of the heart
A deepening, debilitating pain
With which affliction would you like to start?
My evil may be tiny, it is true
But maybe it is big enough for you
If you are such a tiny evil eye
How truly diabolic can you be?
I have a simple question: tell me why
Should anything so tiny trouble me?
In truth, I do not celebrate my size
I cannot shake a mountain to its core
But you, my friend, would certainly be wise
To think of what is easy to ignore
A simple vessel bursting in the brain
A problematic rhythm of the heart
A deepening, debilitating pain
With which affliction would you like to start?
My evil may be tiny, it is true
But maybe it is big enough for you
A Source of Power
by Nick Gisburne
I feel the hum of current as it flows
It floods the cables driven through my chest
Mistreated if it fluctuates or slows
The Company pretends that I am blessed
But theirs are sly, repulsive, weasel words
To justify the actions of the State
The citizens, the numb, compliant herds
Could never understand my tortured fate
For I am one of thousands of my race
Whose metal bodies, captive in the Grid
Provide the means for humans to embrace
A source of power other worlds forbid
Tomorrow, when we reach our date to die
Perhaps the cold will teach your species why
I feel the hum of current as it flows
It floods the cables driven through my chest
Mistreated if it fluctuates or slows
The Company pretends that I am blessed
But theirs are sly, repulsive, weasel words
To justify the actions of the State
The citizens, the numb, compliant herds
Could never understand my tortured fate
For I am one of thousands of my race
Whose metal bodies, captive in the Grid
Provide the means for humans to embrace
A source of power other worlds forbid
Tomorrow, when we reach our date to die
Perhaps the cold will teach your species why
Another Precious Princess
by Nick Gisburne
Though elegant, your body does not fit
It falls below the standard we expect
Allow us to evolve and alter it
To modify, to polish, to perfect
With molecules of exothermic tin
Injected in defective DNA
The petty imperfections of the skin
In moments will be stripped and sucked away
The knitting of new tissues will take time
But luxury can simplify your stay
And though our service constitutes a crime
Success is worth the premium you pay
Another precious princess for the lab
Dissected on a dirty slaughter slab
Though elegant, your body does not fit
It falls below the standard we expect
Allow us to evolve and alter it
To modify, to polish, to perfect
With molecules of exothermic tin
Injected in defective DNA
The petty imperfections of the skin
In moments will be stripped and sucked away
The knitting of new tissues will take time
But luxury can simplify your stay
And though our service constitutes a crime
Success is worth the premium you pay
Another precious princess for the lab
Dissected on a dirty slaughter slab
Wednesday, 6 October 2021
Where She Vanishes
by Nick Gisburne
So quiet, in the corners of her mind
The places where no others ever go
They try, but somehow never seem to find
The mystery she hides from them, below
A carpet of deceit conceals the truth
She drags it, rolls it, slithers down the stairs
At one with old obsessions from her youth
Remembering that no one really cares
A silent space, an emptiness inside
No ornament, no shape, no light, no thing
A shelter, where she vanishes, to hide
A place where love and laughter do not sing
The everlasting darkness and the cold
More precious to her sanity than gold
So quiet, in the corners of her mind
The places where no others ever go
They try, but somehow never seem to find
The mystery she hides from them, below
A carpet of deceit conceals the truth
She drags it, rolls it, slithers down the stairs
At one with old obsessions from her youth
Remembering that no one really cares
A silent space, an emptiness inside
No ornament, no shape, no light, no thing
A shelter, where she vanishes, to hide
A place where love and laughter do not sing
The everlasting darkness and the cold
More precious to her sanity than gold
All I Ever Wanted
by Nick Gisburne
Her name was 7-64-295
And all I ever wanted was a chance
If only she had known I was alive
Perhaps we could have shared a dream, a dance
I saw her on the Chemical Parade
Dispensing Moral Deviation Sprays
But I, a Serf, an undeserving grade
Was hidden from her Diary of Days
For her, I broke the Sanction, broke the rule
And broke the body she would not betray
My comrades, I confess I was a fool
But vote to give me mercy, please, I pray
Acknowledging the verdict of the State
I face the Execution Grid, my fate
Her name was 7-64-295
And all I ever wanted was a chance
If only she had known I was alive
Perhaps we could have shared a dream, a dance
I saw her on the Chemical Parade
Dispensing Moral Deviation Sprays
But I, a Serf, an undeserving grade
Was hidden from her Diary of Days
For her, I broke the Sanction, broke the rule
And broke the body she would not betray
My comrades, I confess I was a fool
But vote to give me mercy, please, I pray
Acknowledging the verdict of the State
I face the Execution Grid, my fate
Old for New
by Nick Gisburne
I savour every texture of the chase
A touch, a tread, a drifting, subtle scent
I do not have to stand before her face
To know my target’s time is almost spent
The grasses, where she wandered from the street
Divided, flecked with particles of oil
Beyond, the soles of heavy, booted feet
Abrasions show a stumble in the soil
Her future, as a fugitive, is grim
The penalty is permanent and steep
Confronted, caught, her eyes are wide, but dim
Her plea a small, bewildered, mournful beep
Mechanicals. I pity them. I do
But she will be recycled, old for new
I savour every texture of the chase
A touch, a tread, a drifting, subtle scent
I do not have to stand before her face
To know my target’s time is almost spent
The grasses, where she wandered from the street
Divided, flecked with particles of oil
Beyond, the soles of heavy, booted feet
Abrasions show a stumble in the soil
Her future, as a fugitive, is grim
The penalty is permanent and steep
Confronted, caught, her eyes are wide, but dim
Her plea a small, bewildered, mournful beep
Mechanicals. I pity them. I do
But she will be recycled, old for new
Tuesday, 5 October 2021
The Dirtiest Taboo
by Nick Gisburne
The sweetest, but the dirtiest, taboo
Is forging an imaginative thought
Be sure, be very certain, if you do
The sin, and you, the sinner, will be caught
The engines of surveillance do not rest
A boundless network infiltrates the mind
Omniscient, with energy unguessed
A deviance is effortless to find
Deception is a necessary skill
To speak of such a crime we could be shot
But those within our circle train their will
We think, while those beyond these walls do not
Decide your future: leave, or follow me
Asleep, a slave, or conscious, clear, and free
The sweetest, but the dirtiest, taboo
Is forging an imaginative thought
Be sure, be very certain, if you do
The sin, and you, the sinner, will be caught
The engines of surveillance do not rest
A boundless network infiltrates the mind
Omniscient, with energy unguessed
A deviance is effortless to find
Deception is a necessary skill
To speak of such a crime we could be shot
But those within our circle train their will
We think, while those beyond these walls do not
Decide your future: leave, or follow me
Asleep, a slave, or conscious, clear, and free
The Greedy Feeder
by Nick Gisburne
I am the greedy feeder you despise
Obese beyond the point of no return
The banquet overflows before my eyes
For all of this, for more than this, I yearn
Engorge me with whatever you may find
There is no substance I will not ingest
Of all the tragic tales of humankind
Perhaps I am the one you most detest
For in these folds of fat, this fleshy face
Are all the dark indulgences you crave
I know you long for pleasure, to debase
Your body. Unfulfilled, you are a slave
Deny yourself, forever and a day
Or bow to greed and feed the pain away
I am the greedy feeder you despise
Obese beyond the point of no return
The banquet overflows before my eyes
For all of this, for more than this, I yearn
Engorge me with whatever you may find
There is no substance I will not ingest
Of all the tragic tales of humankind
Perhaps I am the one you most detest
For in these folds of fat, this fleshy face
Are all the dark indulgences you crave
I know you long for pleasure, to debase
Your body. Unfulfilled, you are a slave
Deny yourself, forever and a day
Or bow to greed and feed the pain away
Just a Taste
by Nick Gisburne
Persuasive though her words appear to be
She knows the time for double-talk has passed
The hissing creature, tangled in the tree
Has charms she cannot endlessly outlast
Each supple, sliding, shimmer of the scales
Reminds her she is easily deceived
The Master will be angry if she fails
Excuses are so seldomly believed
What brings this slinking charlatan today
Dismantling the armour of her mind?
The sweet enchantment fills her with dismay
It leaves her doubts, and all her questions, blind
What harm, a fruit, delicious, pure and chaste?
Perhaps a bite, a sliver, just a taste?
Persuasive though her words appear to be
She knows the time for double-talk has passed
The hissing creature, tangled in the tree
Has charms she cannot endlessly outlast
Each supple, sliding, shimmer of the scales
Reminds her she is easily deceived
The Master will be angry if she fails
Excuses are so seldomly believed
What brings this slinking charlatan today
Dismantling the armour of her mind?
The sweet enchantment fills her with dismay
It leaves her doubts, and all her questions, blind
What harm, a fruit, delicious, pure and chaste?
Perhaps a bite, a sliver, just a taste?
Where the Fairies Fall
by Nick Gisburne
There is a hole, a woeful, wicked place
A darkness, where the fairies fall to die
Where nightmares scratch enchantments from the face
And pluck the shining pearls of tooth and eye
The light, the life, of stolen wings is drained
As milk for grim elixirs, drop by drop
And with the body ruthlessly restrained
Its innocence is punished, tail to top
The fairy, ragged, wretched, without hope
Becomes a toy for diabolic play
Until, forgotten, bound by chains and rope
A final drop of magic drips away
The pain, for every fairy, is their curse
A fate no spell, no stardust, can reverse
There is a hole, a woeful, wicked place
A darkness, where the fairies fall to die
Where nightmares scratch enchantments from the face
And pluck the shining pearls of tooth and eye
The light, the life, of stolen wings is drained
As milk for grim elixirs, drop by drop
And with the body ruthlessly restrained
Its innocence is punished, tail to top
The fairy, ragged, wretched, without hope
Becomes a toy for diabolic play
Until, forgotten, bound by chains and rope
A final drop of magic drips away
The pain, for every fairy, is their curse
A fate no spell, no stardust, can reverse
Monday, 4 October 2021
The Spirit of the Witch
by Nick Gisburne
The threads of life are severed, stitch by stitch
To bleed the soul, to pull apart the dream
I cut, to free the spirit of the witch
And, from the deepest pit of pain, a scream
I bring the cold corruption of a touch
The scrape of ice, a sliver on the spine
Each slit, each stripe, too many, and too much
A sacrilege to make her magic mine
I burn the bitter tallow of her soul
It shimmers as the essence slowly seeps
Until, at last, in shining shades of coal
I see her spirit, kneeling, and it weeps
My fingers crush the creature to its death
Its powers pulled within me, with a breath
The threads of life are severed, stitch by stitch
To bleed the soul, to pull apart the dream
I cut, to free the spirit of the witch
And, from the deepest pit of pain, a scream
I bring the cold corruption of a touch
The scrape of ice, a sliver on the spine
Each slit, each stripe, too many, and too much
A sacrilege to make her magic mine
I burn the bitter tallow of her soul
It shimmers as the essence slowly seeps
Until, at last, in shining shades of coal
I see her spirit, kneeling, and it weeps
My fingers crush the creature to its death
Its powers pulled within me, with a breath
Live Life
by Nick Gisburne
The tattoo of your story, in my skin
Reveals I have no reason to exist
Offended by your faith, I must begin
To free myself, to turn away, to twist
Protecting every disappointing place
Has tested my commitment as your god
Let all the might and majesty of space
Astound you, from the common to the odd
The world is not a blessing, nor a curse
Your fate is freedom, here, beneath the skies
Consider: what is better, what is worse
My pity, or the anger in these eyes?
You have no use for me, nor I for you
Live life, live long, live well, in all you do
The tattoo of your story, in my skin
Reveals I have no reason to exist
Offended by your faith, I must begin
To free myself, to turn away, to twist
Protecting every disappointing place
Has tested my commitment as your god
Let all the might and majesty of space
Astound you, from the common to the odd
The world is not a blessing, nor a curse
Your fate is freedom, here, beneath the skies
Consider: what is better, what is worse
My pity, or the anger in these eyes?
You have no use for me, nor I for you
Live life, live long, live well, in all you do