T
his is an example of my poetry. If memory serves, it was published in an issue of Cthulhu Cultus, but I don’t have any of those contributor’s copies any more, so I’m not 100% sure. 99%, yes. It was inspired by a painting I did, a neon nightmare on black velvet. This photo by Marcin Stawiarz isn’t it, but it’s very cool:
Black on Black
The ebon towers and minarets reflect dimly
Refracted by the broken glass of the boulevard below
The moon overhead casts no visible light
And the water reflects no glow
Motion there is, on the parapets
High atop the walls of the stone city
And sounds in the skies, of a whispering
Of a wind that varies intensity
The faster it blows, the higher the pitch
From a susurrus to a scream
While the water laps hungrily at the walls
Of the city in the land of dream
The city in the land of dream
There are no windows to be seen
In the towers of the city in the land of dream
No one there wants to look outward
They’ve seen all there is to see
Their hearts and minds have been claimed by their dreams
No longer do they abide the light
Once mighty it crumbles
Into lightless dust at the end of the world
The tower and tumbrels
The tins and the timbrals
The looms and the thimbles
The books and the hymnals
To strange and forgotten gods
Ancient and dreaming
Twilight’s last gleaming
Bereft of meaning
The price of believing
In strange and forgotten gods
In the darkness at the end of time
