by Nick Gisburne
Experimental subject Alpha-Six,
The final dormant specimen, a child.
We add a second solvent to the mix,
Extracted from the father we defiled.
Her eyes, as always, register the pain,
But then, with hate, with hunger, there is more.
A potent thread of menace floods the brain,
An impulse we are eager to explore.
She whispers, out of place, beyond the plan.
We understand her language. How, and why?
“Is this the peak, the prime of mortal man?
Is this the way humanity must die?”
Experimental subject Alpha-Six
Escapes us, through a wall of steel and bricks.
Friday, 27 May 2022
Nothing More
by Nick Gisburne
My life is empty, left with nothing more,
No truth, no lies, no fairytales to tell.
Discarded daydreams, littered on the floor,
Torment me in this godforsaken cell.
My youth, my strength, my drive, my courage. Dead.
Abandoned by them all, I sit. I weep.
As memories, they echo through my head,
Too loud to leave me be, to let me sleep.
A thousand possibilities are gone,
Ignored, denied, neglected on the way,
And now, at last, I look, and there are none,
No light, no dreams to fill another day.
My life is paved with battered, broken stone.
I tread this path, this emptiness, alone.
My life is empty, left with nothing more,
No truth, no lies, no fairytales to tell.
Discarded daydreams, littered on the floor,
Torment me in this godforsaken cell.
My youth, my strength, my drive, my courage. Dead.
Abandoned by them all, I sit. I weep.
As memories, they echo through my head,
Too loud to leave me be, to let me sleep.
A thousand possibilities are gone,
Ignored, denied, neglected on the way,
And now, at last, I look, and there are none,
No light, no dreams to fill another day.
My life is paved with battered, broken stone.
I tread this path, this emptiness, alone.
Government Guidelines: Statute LX-4
by Nick Gisburne
Our database reports you are deceased.
You claim this is a clerical mistake,
But system updates, frequently released,
Are utterly impossible to break.
Appeals are not accepted from the dead,
Which all our records indicate you are.
Your evidence, erroneous, unread,
Provides your least persuasive plea, by far.
We therefore must conclude, without regret,
Your status in this sector is unsound,
A category seven civil threat.
Surrender to the prosecution pound.
Illegal, without value under law,
Your fate is sealed by Statute LX-4.
Our database reports you are deceased.
You claim this is a clerical mistake,
But system updates, frequently released,
Are utterly impossible to break.
Appeals are not accepted from the dead,
Which all our records indicate you are.
Your evidence, erroneous, unread,
Provides your least persuasive plea, by far.
We therefore must conclude, without regret,
Your status in this sector is unsound,
A category seven civil threat.
Surrender to the prosecution pound.
Illegal, without value under law,
Your fate is sealed by Statute LX-4.
Thursday, 26 May 2022
Pretend, He Said
by Nick Gisburne
Pretend, he said. Pretend I won’t be there.
Pretend I won’t be watching you tonight.
Forget me, in my comfortable chair,
In silence, in the shade, beyond the light.
Pretend, he said. Pretend you are alone,
Beyond the reach of any eager eyes.
Imagine every movement, every moan,
Is hidden from the man you most despise.
Pretend, he said. Forget about the knife.
Pretend there is no threat, no force, to fear.
Believe that I would never take your life.
Imagine I will simply disappear.
Pretend, she said, that this is not a gun.
Imagine every bullet when I’m done.
Pretend, he said. Pretend I won’t be there.
Pretend I won’t be watching you tonight.
Forget me, in my comfortable chair,
In silence, in the shade, beyond the light.
Pretend, he said. Pretend you are alone,
Beyond the reach of any eager eyes.
Imagine every movement, every moan,
Is hidden from the man you most despise.
Pretend, he said. Forget about the knife.
Pretend there is no threat, no force, to fear.
Believe that I would never take your life.
Imagine I will simply disappear.
Pretend, she said, that this is not a gun.
Imagine every bullet when I’m done.
Sophisticated Snobs
by Nick Gisburne
A circle of sophisticated snobs,
We rule this rotten world without remorse,
A class above, beyond the baying mobs,
And utterly invincible, of course.
The vulgar peasants, clamouring for scraps,
Deceived, divided, fight amongst themselves,
While we, the breed apart, the boys, the chaps,
Take everything, and simply stack our shelves.
We sympathise, we say. It isn’t true.
We spare no time to understand their pain.
Whatever move we make, in all we do,
We let the scum, the stupid, take the strain.
For us, the smug, superior elite,
There are no complications. Life is sweet.
A circle of sophisticated snobs,
We rule this rotten world without remorse,
A class above, beyond the baying mobs,
And utterly invincible, of course.
The vulgar peasants, clamouring for scraps,
Deceived, divided, fight amongst themselves,
While we, the breed apart, the boys, the chaps,
Take everything, and simply stack our shelves.
We sympathise, we say. It isn’t true.
We spare no time to understand their pain.
Whatever move we make, in all we do,
We let the scum, the stupid, take the strain.
For us, the smug, superior elite,
There are no complications. Life is sweet.
The Scintillating Heart
by Nick Gisburne
She gathers roots and flowers, sticks and stones,
The scattered, ruined remnants of a war.
A twisted mass of splintered spider bones
No longer hides the Heart it held before.
The Fey believed its light belonged to them.
Constructing seven circles, seven walls,
Between each twisted, intertangled stem,
They stretched their spells, a web of secret scrawls.
Protection for the Scintillating Heart,
The flame of every Fey who ever flew,
Was crushed in moments, trampled, torn apart,
When something found the fortress, something new.
The child forsakes the clearing, bored, annoyed,
But never sees the Heart her steps destroyed.
She gathers roots and flowers, sticks and stones,
The scattered, ruined remnants of a war.
A twisted mass of splintered spider bones
No longer hides the Heart it held before.
The Fey believed its light belonged to them.
Constructing seven circles, seven walls,
Between each twisted, intertangled stem,
They stretched their spells, a web of secret scrawls.
Protection for the Scintillating Heart,
The flame of every Fey who ever flew,
Was crushed in moments, trampled, torn apart,
When something found the fortress, something new.
The child forsakes the clearing, bored, annoyed,
But never sees the Heart her steps destroyed.
Wednesday, 25 May 2022
The Daughters of the Darkness
by Nick Gisburne
Before the sunlight sweeps across the sky,
Before the birds bring sweetness with their song,
The Daughters of the Darkness flit and fly,
For night is where their spiteful shades are strong.
The reckless and the wretched are their prey,
The wanderers too far from any inn,
The pilgrims lost or left along the way,
Who plead, in vain, for morning to begin.
A scream, a signal, flies from lip to lip.
A slithering of spirits fills the trees.
To feed, to feast, the Daughters slide and slip.
The fools, the fallen, cower on their knees.
Too slow to find the safety of the light,
Their souls descend to Darkness, with a bite.
Before the sunlight sweeps across the sky,
Before the birds bring sweetness with their song,
The Daughters of the Darkness flit and fly,
For night is where their spiteful shades are strong.
The reckless and the wretched are their prey,
The wanderers too far from any inn,
The pilgrims lost or left along the way,
Who plead, in vain, for morning to begin.
A scream, a signal, flies from lip to lip.
A slithering of spirits fills the trees.
To feed, to feast, the Daughters slide and slip.
The fools, the fallen, cower on their knees.
Too slow to find the safety of the light,
Their souls descend to Darkness, with a bite.
Evil’s Abattoir
by Nick Gisburne
A burning bride illuminates the room.
A stench, a smoking sickness, fills the space.
The flesh of angels, roasted in the womb,
Congealed, is draped with battered, bloody lace.
A tapestry of tongues absorbs the fat,
The greasy gravy dripping from the plates.
A stew, a slaughter, simmers in a vat,
The bodies long surrendered to their fates.
A crawling corpse, a creature, pulls us in.
We bring our private poisons from the bar.
The appetiser, scalded strips of skin,
Reminds us this is Evil’s Abattoir.
I find no way, no reason, to rejoice.
The menu? Not a single vegan choice.
A burning bride illuminates the room.
A stench, a smoking sickness, fills the space.
The flesh of angels, roasted in the womb,
Congealed, is draped with battered, bloody lace.
A tapestry of tongues absorbs the fat,
The greasy gravy dripping from the plates.
A stew, a slaughter, simmers in a vat,
The bodies long surrendered to their fates.
A crawling corpse, a creature, pulls us in.
We bring our private poisons from the bar.
The appetiser, scalded strips of skin,
Reminds us this is Evil’s Abattoir.
I find no way, no reason, to rejoice.
The menu? Not a single vegan choice.
Precious
by Nick Gisburne
Was she precious when you took her in your arms,
When you told her she had found her future - you?
Was she precious when you showered her with charms,
With the whispered words you promised, swore, were true?
Was she precious when you criticised her friends,
When you turned away the people from her past?
Was she precious when she tried to make amends
For the slights and indiscretions she amassed?
Was she precious when you told her every bruise
Would teach her how to live a better life?
Was she precious when she struggled to refuse,
When she found her screaming silenced by a knife?
Was she precious? More than she could ever show.
Will your death be pleasant, peaceful, painless? No.
Was she precious when you took her in your arms,
When you told her she had found her future - you?
Was she precious when you showered her with charms,
With the whispered words you promised, swore, were true?
Was she precious when you criticised her friends,
When you turned away the people from her past?
Was she precious when she tried to make amends
For the slights and indiscretions she amassed?
Was she precious when you told her every bruise
Would teach her how to live a better life?
Was she precious when she struggled to refuse,
When she found her screaming silenced by a knife?
Was she precious? More than she could ever show.
Will your death be pleasant, peaceful, painless? No.
Tuesday, 24 May 2022
The Powers of the Witch
by Nick Gisburne
I purchase all the pieces of her brain
From underworld collectors, slice by slice,
And, when I find that only two remain,
I know that I will offer any price.
I beg. I steal. I murder, many times.
I sell my soul. At last I have them all.
I beg her to forgive me for my crimes.
In wonderment, before her form I fall.
The undiluted essence of her voice,
Ferocious as the day her body died,
Is music, magic, madness. I rejoice,
The proud, devoted servant at her side.
But I control the powers of the witch,
With nothing but a simple, silver switch.
I purchase all the pieces of her brain
From underworld collectors, slice by slice,
And, when I find that only two remain,
I know that I will offer any price.
I beg. I steal. I murder, many times.
I sell my soul. At last I have them all.
I beg her to forgive me for my crimes.
In wonderment, before her form I fall.
The undiluted essence of her voice,
Ferocious as the day her body died,
Is music, magic, madness. I rejoice,
The proud, devoted servant at her side.
But I control the powers of the witch,
With nothing but a simple, silver switch.
Denny
by Nick Gisburne
You need another body? Talk to me.
I’ll get you what you want. We’ll do a deal,
Whatever face you fancy, for a fee.
There’s not a sack of skin I cannot steal.
You’re ugly. Let me tell you, so was I.
You think I got these classy lines with luck?
If someone smarter, stronger, has to die,
I file it under ‘do not give a fuck’.
Already I can see you’re good to go.
I like a man with hunger in his eyes.
Your cash is all I need to start the show.
When Denny makes a promise, he supplies.
Tomorrow you’ll be wearing someone new.
It’s murder. Trust me. This is what I do.
You need another body? Talk to me.
I’ll get you what you want. We’ll do a deal,
Whatever face you fancy, for a fee.
There’s not a sack of skin I cannot steal.
You’re ugly. Let me tell you, so was I.
You think I got these classy lines with luck?
If someone smarter, stronger, has to die,
I file it under ‘do not give a fuck’.
Already I can see you’re good to go.
I like a man with hunger in his eyes.
Your cash is all I need to start the show.
When Denny makes a promise, he supplies.
Tomorrow you’ll be wearing someone new.
It’s murder. Trust me. This is what I do.
The Glory Door
by Nick Gisburne
Your fifteen minutes standing in the sun
Are gone, forever smothered by the shade.
No step, no move, no thing you might have done
Could ever fix what fate already made.
The fame, the fortune, these are not for you.
You tried, but, like so many, failed the test.
For one amazing moment you were new,
But nobody believed you were the best.
Your dreams are broken, dying in defeat.
The glory door is permanently shut.
You took a sip, a taste of what was sweet,
But you were never meant to make the cut.
Remember, when you try to play the game,
That nothing you can do will find you fame.
Your fifteen minutes standing in the sun
Are gone, forever smothered by the shade.
No step, no move, no thing you might have done
Could ever fix what fate already made.
The fame, the fortune, these are not for you.
You tried, but, like so many, failed the test.
For one amazing moment you were new,
But nobody believed you were the best.
Your dreams are broken, dying in defeat.
The glory door is permanently shut.
You took a sip, a taste of what was sweet,
But you were never meant to make the cut.
Remember, when you try to play the game,
That nothing you can do will find you fame.
Monday, 23 May 2022
The Golden Gleam
by Nick Gisburne
The trees. So many. Cut, we burn them all,
To boil our sewage, liberating steam.
We send aloft a storm, a spiral, tall,
To blind the eye, the spy, the Golden Gleam.
A blemish in the heavens’, perfect peace,
Where every other starlight point is white,
The Gleam, unchecked, unhindered, will not cease,
Consuming every corner of the night.
The steam, our poisoned offering, is met
With squeals and shrieks, with anguish and alarm.
We smother it, to warn away the threat,
To save ourselves from wickedness, from harm.
And as the eye, the brass, the glass, retreats,
Our bottled city’s heroes fill the streets.
The trees. So many. Cut, we burn them all,
To boil our sewage, liberating steam.
We send aloft a storm, a spiral, tall,
To blind the eye, the spy, the Golden Gleam.
A blemish in the heavens’, perfect peace,
Where every other starlight point is white,
The Gleam, unchecked, unhindered, will not cease,
Consuming every corner of the night.
The steam, our poisoned offering, is met
With squeals and shrieks, with anguish and alarm.
We smother it, to warn away the threat,
To save ourselves from wickedness, from harm.
And as the eye, the brass, the glass, retreats,
Our bottled city’s heroes fill the streets.
I Need a Drink
by Nick Gisburne
I need a drink, to do the things I do,
To liberate the liar locked inside,
To revel in the violence, to view
The darkness and the danger others hide.
I need a drink, to show you what I see:
A mind without direction, purpose, plan.
Revealing it, the trickery, the me,
I show myself, the face of who I am.
I need a drink, to tell you how I feel,
The terror of a life beyond control.
My eyes are broken, blind to what is real,
Bewildered by the sorrow in my soul.
To live, today, tomorrow, I must drink.
Without it, I am certain I will sink.
I need a drink, to do the things I do,
To liberate the liar locked inside,
To revel in the violence, to view
The darkness and the danger others hide.
I need a drink, to show you what I see:
A mind without direction, purpose, plan.
Revealing it, the trickery, the me,
I show myself, the face of who I am.
I need a drink, to tell you how I feel,
The terror of a life beyond control.
My eyes are broken, blind to what is real,
Bewildered by the sorrow in my soul.
To live, today, tomorrow, I must drink.
Without it, I am certain I will sink.
Friday, 20 May 2022
The Soul Inside the Mirror
by Nick Gisburne
I see it, every night, the ghost of you,
An apparition, disconcerting, strange.
It taps the mirror, never breaking through,
But always there are words, a brief exchange.
Amusing reminiscences, at first,
The pick of precious moments from our past,
But soon we whisper only of the worst,
While somehow never mentioning the last.
Another face, forgotten, fills the glass,
A memory, an echo of your death.
The mirror bends, permitting it to pass.
Through twisted time I feel your final breath.
Your ghost is gone, released, forever free.
The soul inside the mirror, trapped, is me.
I see it, every night, the ghost of you,
An apparition, disconcerting, strange.
It taps the mirror, never breaking through,
But always there are words, a brief exchange.
Amusing reminiscences, at first,
The pick of precious moments from our past,
But soon we whisper only of the worst,
While somehow never mentioning the last.
Another face, forgotten, fills the glass,
A memory, an echo of your death.
The mirror bends, permitting it to pass.
Through twisted time I feel your final breath.
Your ghost is gone, released, forever free.
The soul inside the mirror, trapped, is me.
All I Am
by Nick Gisburne
I’m not the man you wanted me to be.
Indifference for everything I do
Reminds me of a truth you cannot see:
The love I needed never came from you.
So many wasted years, so many dreams,
Your ignorant impatience my reward.
I am the disappointment, so it seems,
The irritant, of whom you quickly bored.
Today I bring an end to it, a cut,
A final separation, clean and clear,
A door between us, permanently shut,
A silence where disdain can disappear.
I’m not the man you wanted me to be,
But what I am, and all I am, is me.
I’m not the man you wanted me to be.
Indifference for everything I do
Reminds me of a truth you cannot see:
The love I needed never came from you.
So many wasted years, so many dreams,
Your ignorant impatience my reward.
I am the disappointment, so it seems,
The irritant, of whom you quickly bored.
Today I bring an end to it, a cut,
A final separation, clean and clear,
A door between us, permanently shut,
A silence where disdain can disappear.
I’m not the man you wanted me to be,
But what I am, and all I am, is me.
The Man Who Knows Too Much
by Nick Gisburne
Awarding him the Cap of Many Creeds,
The sinister Academy of Souls
Asphyxiates the scholar as he bleeds,
And throws him in the pit, upon the coals.
A barbarous divinatory test,
His flesh begins to bubble, and to spit.
To show the strength with which his heart is blessed,
He wallows in the pain, to conquer it.
The fury of the furnace, at his touch,
Corrupted, cooling, liquefied and lost,
Reveals the truth, the man who knows too much,
Who plays this game to win, at any cost.
The elders of this most prestigious place
Find only their extinction in his face.
Awarding him the Cap of Many Creeds,
The sinister Academy of Souls
Asphyxiates the scholar as he bleeds,
And throws him in the pit, upon the coals.
A barbarous divinatory test,
His flesh begins to bubble, and to spit.
To show the strength with which his heart is blessed,
He wallows in the pain, to conquer it.
The fury of the furnace, at his touch,
Corrupted, cooling, liquefied and lost,
Reveals the truth, the man who knows too much,
Who plays this game to win, at any cost.
The elders of this most prestigious place
Find only their extinction in his face.
Thursday, 19 May 2022
Flick the Switch
by Nick Gisburne
I gave you freedom, more than you deserve.
I gave you every chance I never had.
And still you have the arrogance, the nerve,
To tell me you are dying, and you’re glad.
But all you had to do was take the pills,
And punch a code, a number, in your chest.
Is this the way you torture me, for thrills?
I should have seen it coming, should have guessed.
You’re not the son I stupidly designed.
You’re less than what I paid for you in parts.
The faulty code inside your faulty mind
Has poisoned what was powering our hearts.
We’re both machines, but I am no one’s bitch,
So go ahead and do it. Flick the switch.
I gave you freedom, more than you deserve.
I gave you every chance I never had.
And still you have the arrogance, the nerve,
To tell me you are dying, and you’re glad.
But all you had to do was take the pills,
And punch a code, a number, in your chest.
Is this the way you torture me, for thrills?
I should have seen it coming, should have guessed.
You’re not the son I stupidly designed.
You’re less than what I paid for you in parts.
The faulty code inside your faulty mind
Has poisoned what was powering our hearts.
We’re both machines, but I am no one’s bitch,
So go ahead and do it. Flick the switch.
The Woebegones
by Nick Gisburne
The slaughter of the Woebegones begins.
Unlocking the extermination tanks,
We slice the marks of treason from their skins,
The sacred signs with which they offer thanks.
But this one is unusual, somehow.
The razor fails to separate his flesh.
Through bloody, broken teeth, we hear him vow
To burn us all, and build the world afresh.
This mongrel speaks of prophecy and pain,
As though his myths are real, his torment not.
He swears, with undeniable disdain,
That we, the unbelievers, will be shot.
His people face the furnaces, and sing,
To celebrate the killing of their king.
The slaughter of the Woebegones begins.
Unlocking the extermination tanks,
We slice the marks of treason from their skins,
The sacred signs with which they offer thanks.
But this one is unusual, somehow.
The razor fails to separate his flesh.
Through bloody, broken teeth, we hear him vow
To burn us all, and build the world afresh.
This mongrel speaks of prophecy and pain,
As though his myths are real, his torment not.
He swears, with undeniable disdain,
That we, the unbelievers, will be shot.
His people face the furnaces, and sing,
To celebrate the killing of their king.
Ripples in the Void
by Nick Gisburne
Our vanity will not protect us now.
Exceptional, outstanding, we are not.
The cracks in space, the splinters, show us how
To see ourselves: a poor, pathetic dot.
The ever-spreading fractures we deny
Expose us for the ignorants we are,
And, even now, we question how, and why,
The universe would sabotage our star.
We were, we are, exactly what we seem:
An impotent, inconsequential spark,
A soon-forgotten flicker in a dream
Consigning us to cinders, drifting, dark.
Our world will be extinguished and destroyed,
By nothing more than ripples in the void.
Our vanity will not protect us now.
Exceptional, outstanding, we are not.
The cracks in space, the splinters, show us how
To see ourselves: a poor, pathetic dot.
The ever-spreading fractures we deny
Expose us for the ignorants we are,
And, even now, we question how, and why,
The universe would sabotage our star.
We were, we are, exactly what we seem:
An impotent, inconsequential spark,
A soon-forgotten flicker in a dream
Consigning us to cinders, drifting, dark.
Our world will be extinguished and destroyed,
By nothing more than ripples in the void.