The Gilded Lure
The benighted chamber,
adorned with jewels
Spectacular, mocking
Restless slither as old as time
This witchcraft, seductive but cold,
Weighs heavy
Caring not,
strength lies redundant
In this dark majesty
A machiavellian opus, thriving, inveigles
Courting opaque quarters
of festering souls
And oh -
How it takes!
This gilded lure
And so it shall be,
as long polished knives claw and tear
And though this night sinks into unspeakable mud
It remains -
Eternal
The Unjust
There's a chasm,
though more oubliette than cell
Escape not but cruel fantasy
Ah, but -
Such sweet dreams,
torture more than absence of life
Beautiful, true,
but stained with facile hope
Once playful and light,
before time
And sentence
Lost to this void,
beasts scatter sound like stones
Unseen, though -
Flaunting dagger teeth,
Small,
but stained with memories
Skin sags
Wax sheets,
rippled with waste
As time squeezes and coils
Minutes bleed and bloat
falling prey to disease
And rotting vile contagion
This sentence seems wicked
Cruel
Innocence condemned
And you realise
This sentence is not,
but your life
Your sentence -
Is you
The Savage Dawn
Watch now
fair blood boil
and hasten to screeching cries
as lush hills shade red
and valleys darken
The horizon -
draws its veil
Murmurs echo
through growling clouds
Diamonds fill the sky
The beast comes now,
uttering thunderous steps
each cannon's howl
designed in malice
to melt sinews once filled
with rage and dangerous pride
Behold monstrosity!
Dark, glorious justice
And man?
our time is now
Nicholas Rogers is a writer/poet based in Tammisaari, Finland. His work explores dark, psychological, and gothic themes and these poems are his first would-be steps into the world of poetry.
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