Depression Pollution Poems

This land of entitlement 
entertainment and enterprise 
lost burnt broken...despised 
skeletal structures reaching 
griping 
clutching 
scraping this infernal sky!

Arcane factories sit on horizons 
haunted like...

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Where will tomorrow take us
Only God alone can tell
A brighter future a cloudless day
Or an earthly living Hell 
How much of its our doing
How much...

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The eyes are the window into the soul.
A passageway into the darkest nights 
of deepest dreams.

To the eternal nightmares of ancient lands
Where streets run as...

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To Babylon, we came...
To watch the rise of Tower 
The Tower of Cain
A fortress of dark n eternal pain

Stretching to the vaults of heaven 
to...

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Thick smoke sick rising 
into the stormy iron-gray sky 
industrial gears and pistons
grinding eternity…

Lightning lances arcane 
weathervanes over 
a filthy antiquated metropolis!

Wondering!

a wandering of souls...

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What right is it 
of Man to challenge 
creations unknowable plans… 

Is it not the will of vanity 
to keep all in the dark 
or...

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There shall never be another dawn…
Never another day to greet your family 
Or hold the ones you love dear
You will never know the coming nightmare
Or...

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Thunderheads tumble 
in from the north
the sky is 
Dull lead dark 
at its core a storm 
waiting to be born
Thunder clouds like
that of different deities...

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On site of this forgotten Babylon
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in this annihilated place
What strange creature’s kin
to inhuman race
Dwell deep in antediluvian hells 
Uncanny...

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WINTERS HOUSE 
Black, bare in despair 
alone to nowhere 
On a corner crossroads to everywhere
Sits a house half-forgotten 
a house full of itself and memories
Dark...

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Act Eight, Chapter One. Part Three
                Part of a grander...

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This land of entitlement, 
entertainment and enterprise 
lost burnt broken...despised 
skeletal structures reaching 
griping, clutching, scraping the infernal sky.
arcane factories sit on horizons 
haunt like...

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A god mended in string and wired corsets, armature. 
The blackened police the striders in the dark… 
a crippled plaything, 
a hymn of the tourniquet...

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We dream of rain 
in a dry season 
under the setting sun
We harvest bitter grains, 
Embittered flesh.
Under a tyrannical son, 
we dream of rain in...

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Engines Divine
Runs in cold time
The rhythm of space
A pulse in race
Hot orbs stare into the void
Frozen on place
Engines divine
Burning the rustic
ionic cosmic decay
The expansion of...

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