The Forgotten

Shadows in my memory,
Half truths have awoken me,
Kept me here in stone,
in a world that’s forced to bleed,
I sink into oblivion,
does no one still believe?

I used to be a god here,
my name it used to ring,
The walls upheld me ever clear,
the horns and bows would sing,
I prospered for the longest time,
The tree of life still whole,
But then the cross-shaped axe did come,
And made the whole world Hel.

I long for just one single voice,
to sing my name again,
A drop of love in sacrifice,
a rite to heal the pain,
Immortal life is torture now,
the stones suffused with death,
Would that I could be a man,
and draw the final breath.

But I am the forgotten one,
these stones a living grave,
My voice grows ever fainter,
and day by day,
year by year,
Painfully and age by age,
into your eternity,
I infinitely fade.



I am sunk
In the mire
Of his id
The malignant
Crumbling facade
The lack of compassion
The words like shards
Of petrified bile
That slice through a smile
So fake that it’s news
An attack on my senses
Of justness and good
Grabbing my soul
Pulling me under
I am drowned
In the mire
Of him.

Sonnet on Death’s weakness

Death is always but a moment away,

His hunger for life is dark, without end,

He steals souls for sport, and holds breath in sway,

Wanting in humour, his rules never bend,

Only the blush of a maiden in Spring,

Touches those features, to conjure a smile,

Whispers and secrets, they draw in and cling,

And he cloaks his horror to woo her a while,

Beauty and innocence, they do make him weak,

Finding his flaw in the glint of her eye,

But reason will come, and vengeance he’ll seek,

On her pretty dead head, he’ll sit and he’ll cry,

For while Death’s a fool for silly young maids,

Eternity’s long and all beauty fades.