The Cold Dark Pit

The warrior grieved for the loss of his life;

for surely the situation appeared to be most dreadful.

In lieu of honour, denied glory and legacy;

his was a need that few would have predicted.

Like the discontents of the past he had silently marched;

onwards in mass toward surely a just resolution.

Strange and unfathomable the cosmos must be;

since patently he finds his wrecked body not on battlefield…

…but crouched in a concrete-frozen old well.

There seems no exit from this hellish nightmare;

calls for help go unanswered into the night.

His thoughts stray to how this came about;

yet memories seem to have abandoned him to his misery.

Perhaps some would give up, he has not the choice;

for in the darkness he can hear his fellows movements.

The never-ending march is underway and he is to be left behind;

do none miss his presence, his stoic bearing, his being?...

…or are they in ecstasy to this event, gleeful in their delight?

His dwelling that night made resolute, the quietude hardened resolve;

unique solitary, within the masses, has brought his clarity of thought about…

…as slowly upwards the lone warrior climbs once more. 

The absent vagrant

Educated beyond what once was mere mortal and now all but husk.

The last of his kind he is not, yet none would claim him now.

Substance of the defeated few would dare approach what once was proud.

Worst fear seemingly truth, he plodders onward in search of hope.

Who would dare to guess the intellect hidden beyond glazed despair?

To look at him was not possible, for none can see what they despise.

Misery is now his constant companion; loneliness consuming his heart.

Worst fear becoming truth, he lengthens his stride in search of hope.

Steps taken ostensibly in certainty now glare in glee at his deceit.

If one was to scrape of the crust no answers would be found.

The prestige now gone, the honour consumed the loneliness profound.

Worst fear now truth, no more steps are taken in false hope. 

The Strange One's

Introduction
A siren loud and clear, yelling its riddle for all to decipher… was adding to the initial confusion after the fire-fight… a round ball fell from eight fingered hand, spinning and glowing on the floor, a strange beeping sound starting to emanate from it… almost as if warning all around that they had precious little time left over. 


A monitor flickered on overhead, cracked and only showing a partial image of the deathly scene, a wonder it had survived the fire-fight still working even though it had lost all its audio, it mattered not, for he knew that the closed circuit cameras mounted in the walls would still be broadcasting the image to those outside and beyond, breathlessly being narrated by anchors and field journalists, capturing the end of life as we knew it for all to see; as two leaders lay at the feet of a few, casting the fate of billions in the balance. 


One was dead; the other bleeding but still breathing with difficulty. True irony it was, that the he was one of two people still left standing, when seconds previously there was so many. Picking up the gun that was dropped as fire fight first started, he walked over to the Alekui Leader… raised his arm… aimed… and with two bullets killed him. An act of mercy in his eyes… cold murder in another’s. 


It was an odd day that sealed his destiny after all, to kill one not from his world, for after what seemed like months of no rain, he had awoken to a cloud filled sky that morning, which now was drenching those still outside with tears of rain, as one who was elected to lead… instead chose to bend knee in the heart of his nation… the infamous Oval Office. In some places the President would surely have been killed on the spot for this act, but it seemed he cared not… perhaps the President had known this was to be his fate regardless of what transpired hereafter. 


Now standing over the bodies of both leaders, the man known as Conner knew that he had just rung the death-siren that would kill countless many others… in the hope of saving a few. If his life’s tale was ever told, some would praise him, most would loath him, strange how none that came after would know his face he thought, for he could see only his silhouette was broadcast on the monitor, yet his name he knew would be made infamous, used as a curse, in the eyes of all who come after… it was to be a cruel anecdote to his life story spent in the defence of others. 


Yet all that mattered now was that he had bought the time needed – to inspire a few to stand up and fight for their right to live free, a right bought over countless eons. Perhaps his wife and son would be one of these few, he would never know. His last bullets already spent – defending his world, he feared more would have to do the same before the end was in sight… Turning to the microphone on the President’s desk he utters “I love you Alisha, protect our son!” as the lone surviving Alekui came walking slowly towards him… a glint of steel in his hand, showing a stony face, yet with fire of ill intent in eyes. 


Chapter 1
It was time to move on. The Elders knew that the strange one’s would come back once morning came, they said it was our destiny to prepare, to hide whilst others were made slaves, for we had to make preparations for the coming prophecy, ‘the will of ages’, to learn the ways of the past in order to fight the final battle that would either free us, destroy us or worse enslave us once and for all.


None now knew why these strange one’s… these Alekui, had initially come to our world. Most believed it was to take our resources, our minerals, water and to make some of us into slaves, one species indentured to another, to build warships, but this had somehow changed. The strange one’s did not move on. Their world ships were somehow destroyed and it had become our way of life instead, to be preyed upon, by a daily menace now living in what once was called Africa.


Few of the Elders remembered how it came to be that the Earth was scorched… they only knew from whispers in the night that we were betrayed, by one called Conner Anderson, a name now used as sign of displeasure, of ridicule and hate amongst those that survived. It was common belief that the Alekui wished to return to their realm and bring more of their kind back through their gates of perdition. These gates hung in the cloak of space, five times the distance from Earth to Moon, yet still visible to naked eye. It was said not long now and it would be once more within the Alekui’s reach. They wanted vengeance for an act five centuries in the past, when first they walked the soil of our world, and we feared we would never be rid of them.

Apoplectic Calm

Like a statue, a man, sitting on rocking chair stared on in silence.

His outer demeanour, calm as the eye of his own personal hurricane…

…as around him the world was set ablaze in fire and brimstone.

Smoke from upturned wrecks now cloud once clear sky.

Already a pong of death clung to the air, yet the man cared not…

…as his kin ran for their lives.

Not one solitary creature would notice his strange demeanour.

Not a soul would ask patriarch why he abandons what cherished once was.

None but he would claim to know the slight that was made…

…for it was mad man’s eye, that roamed courtyard that night.

Foul and fawn ran befuddled in frenzied struggles for freedom.

None would survive the onslaught of zeal and fervour.

Nor did the man believe he would survive, his fate was sealed…

…as he sat in silence, waiting for the death rows of his labour.

The guiding light

I stand on the promise of a grand future,
Yet I know the foundations still need work.
My house situated on bedrock is firm,
Yet my veranda has stretched into the sand.

The sea, ever menacing sends wave after wave,
Yet I firm up, strap up, I work into the night.
I must not fail, the wall must hold up against the onslaught,
Yet doubt still creeps up, for I am now building onto sand.

I toil and slog to get it all done and never do I let up,
Yet the deadline of high tide creeps closer and closer.
I wonder if the pool - placed on veranda will stand firm,
Yet it is too late now for the aged fellow has come to inspect.

All my time and effort has gone into this project,
Yet I feel the need all around, something is missing.
I know not what and I wrought throughout the night,
Yet I know I still need it, I need a guiding light.

My Computer

Good Computer, Bad Computer.
My computer boots up fast, then it stops to work.
My computer works for hours, while the heat sink is melting.
My computer is fast, when the virus scanner isn’t.
My computer remembers all, the next day it forgets all.
My computer I adore, but it doesn’t care for me.

The Bursting of the Channel

That pain I can compare onto no other.

It drags from heaven the angels in mass.

Bark is stripped from mighty oak and willow.

Nothing stands in its way, all are its prey.

It creeps up on you silently, when you least expect it.

Then the wax is cast, the water pressure rising.

It seems that man once strong can cry once more.

It makes one retreat, it makes you hide from the world.

It steals the little things from you the stronger it becomes.

Past echoes will keep you aware of the loss of jingles in the air.

Then the red divide marches past your door and at last…

…The channel burst forth and you are released!!

An Unforgettable Event

During the day all was strangely calm, never had I seen the lake so quiet.

Restlessness would not abate for I could not shake the feeling of being watched.

All looked as it should, the wind was blowing, woodland noises came and went.

Given a day like this we would normally spend it on the lake, yet…

…only it was no normal day; I could feel a call invoking me to come…

…never before had I felt such a pull, a yearning to follow a call.

Reckless perhaps was I to venture forth as night laid claim to the sky.

Everything was telling me to return home and bolt the door.

But I did not, I stepped forth and found my feet had a mind of their own.

On the edge of the lake I found a raft, strange I thought never to have seen it before.

Returning home was no option now I could not resist the call.

Never one to back down from a fight I rowed out to the centre of the black lake.

Many a man had heard the call that was to claim me tonight, yet none answered.

As this was my destiny I now recall in fondness how terrified I was at first sight.

Sinister it looked glowing near core and axis of the lake’s bottom.

Trust was difficult for the calling was leading me below and I was bound to follow.

Entering the blackness it felt like the day of days finally arrived.

Reckoning would take place this night to see if I was worthy.

Placing the small round stone on the raft it glowed from within with stronger beat.

Lost was I as to what to do, when voice on breeze came at me that night.

Enter into bondage with me and I shall bestow all my gifts onto thee…

…Do you accept this charge I place or shall I return into the night.

Grasping where the voice came from I could not find my voice.

Everything I had learned till then said run, but I felt it in my heart.

Dragon Reborn and Master Pledged walked away into the night.

Endless Nights

Striding along the path to blissfulness,

once more I flounder on my path.

It seems I am cursed once more,

to haunt the sunless circadian cosmos.

The sandman does not visit this domain,

he strides through twilight in fright…

…who can save the soulless demon,

“Not me!” he shrieks into the night.

Yet strangely neither affliction,

nor racing heart have I.

Breathing comes natural.

No fear of blaring into the night.

The darkness feels like ally.

Not nightmare lining room in delay…

…yet the night permeates it all.

Moonlight bright shines in the endless night…

…as all are entwined in its almighty might.

First Girlfriend’s

Take the hand thrust out.
A feeling of lavender.
Softness incarnate.