This howling melody, from deep
Within the soul,
Calling out to madness, insanity
The goal.
An orchestra of voices,
A symphony of noise,
All for want of peaceful rest, the darkness of a hole.

The sharp cacophony, from down
Within the depths,
Pleading with the sadness, psychosis
Before death.
A performance of screaming,
An orgy of the damned,
All for want of silent sleep, the pleasure of sweet rest.

A deafening onslaught, from where
The heart resides,
Crying and so hopeless, no freedom
From inside,
The cold unending whirlwind,
A litany of hate,
All for want of dreamless night, and so from madness hide.


The Mad King

This came from the first line, and flowed from there, but I don’t like how it ends. Maybe more verses? Or a different ending? Please feel free to let me know what you think in the comments.

The mad king rules in sceptred halls,
And from afar the fools are called;
His proclamations casting sin,
And from without the day begins.

The mad king sits in crimson robe,
And passes laws on those he loathes;
No life is spared his cruel retort,
Each candle snuffed his favourite sport.

The mad king has an evil queen,
Her beauty praised by all she’s seen;
But heart within is black and cold,
And suits as such her husband bold.

The mad king oft is plotted on,
His throne no more to sit upon;
But spies and whispers cast about,
And plotters soon are weeded out.

The mad king has a blackened cell,
Where most despised are forced to dwell;
And from it’s dark and shadowed deeps,
Are heard the screams that never sleep.

The mad king rules the land and sea,
Such tributes come on bended knee;
But this will still not stay his wrath,
The last thing heard his sickened laugh.

The mad king and his wicked queen,
No respite from this evil team;
No heroes left to stand and shout,
And cast this awful mad king out.

Dark Abyss

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything new, and this evening this rather dark and strange one came to me. I hope you like it.

To stare, with such unknowing eye,
In to the dark abyss,
What madness cold that grips the heart
Could dwell in place as this.
A watchful presence deep within,
It knows all thoughts possessed,
And without warning, creeping on,
A man becomes obsessed.
With nought but echoes ringing back,
No sound is ever new,
The whispered voices of the damned
Cause terror through and through.
The very thought of letting go
And swimming in the black,
Will hold a strange attractiveness
Of never looking back.
Beware the ease of which the pit
Will summon crawling dread,
And heed the call of those below,
The wicked and the dead.
They gave their soul to join the dark,
And fled from saving light,
In to the black and cold abyss
The kingdom of the night.

We All Howl At The Moon

Dark dreams do come, and voices rise,
When night arrives too soon.
Alone with thoughts of what has past,
Our faces lit as cheap faux glass,
We all howl at the moon.

Against the will of stubborn world,
We play our dying tune.
Where is the hope that serves our hearts,
The dreams we hold and pray they last,
We all howl at the moon.

Caught up in fights against the tide,
The rising waves of doom.
Such gathered fools who test our will,
Who laugh along with feelings ill,
We all howl at the moon.

Power kept by those in thrall
To money’s sickly bloom.
And though we rage that it’s unfair,
The unkind world just doesn’t care,
We all howl at the moon.

A madness swift to overtake
The grinning of the loon.
A life of trials will drive us mad,
There’s nothing worse than world gone bad,
We all howl at the moon.