4 thousand miles across the pond
She still haunts my dreams and my days
Shall I get a 10-tongued whip
With barbs of steel on every strand

Shred my back and front
Till I rid my soul of perdition
That has but one destination
Born of my desires and my infatuation

Woe is me I think
For the pain is not in my flesh nor in my bones
A branding iron can not distract me
Nor the food nor the wine nor the nectar that is fresh cider

I shall lie me down now
And dream of wings of fire
Of Saturn and Pluto
One a cauldron, the other – ice

2:10am. 25/01/2017

Make your stand

Make your stand

Make your stand
In the rain, in the cold, in the light, in the shadows
before the wickedness wipes it all away
A gladius, a dagger, a thing with an edge

Make your stand
Young Alex passed on his way
he left behind his name?
What of Gaius Julius Ceasar?
Octavian? Julia? Brutus too
The Khans, the Huns
The sands of time

Make your stand
The ides of March are past
But they will come again
Knives through the heart
Scraping on bone
Let me hold your hand
Till sleep shuts my eyes.

Make your stand
Heaven above
Hell below
Pain and despair in between
What is time made of?
Sorrow upon sorrow
Everyone has a portion

Make your stand
Your demons are at the door
Dogs of war; dogs of destruction
Unlisted numbers – no difference
One by one, we all lay down

Make your stand
Salvation is hard-work
Perdition is no easier
The gods are dead
Embrace the nothingness or
Make your stand