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Quill poised
As though to scribe
Ink gathering at the tip
Shining in the light
And still I hold
I wait, hoping for
Goddess to smile
To feed me the inspiration
Sweetest dew to the leaves
Sugared water from the heavens
The tangy scent of blood in the air
Coppery aromatherapy
From the Apothecary
Of the imagination


I see them there
Hooded figures three
Burning in effigy
The photos of youth
Destroying the past
So that they can be reborn
Into the Darkness
Bathed in the Light
The transformed images
They scream in the mist
Rage at being lost, banished
As the flames reach higher
This is a place of rest
Eternal sleep
Where the icicles rise
From the deep Earth
Shards of spirits
Ghastly garden of
Horrid beauty
Where the slightest fragrance
Of corruption mingles
Intertwines with the breath
Of offerings passing by


Only I see
As I stand sentinel
Hands outstretched in
Infinite devotion
Eyes to the sky
And yet I see
The abomination that exists
In this time, this space
As they howl their lost tongues
To the moonless sky
Around them
All is lost, fallen silent
Homes of the Dead

Death Maiden


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