Fire exploded into the world,
Caged and put to work.
Air ignited in splendor,
A sacrifice for Metal’s accord.

Push and pull, push and pull,
Metal shunted into Fire’s rhythm.
Injections of fluid,
Made of long dead souls.

Metal moved with speed,
Greased by blackened souls.
Beat after beat after beat,
A dance macabre unfolds.

Metal roared with magnificence,
Fire burned like the Sun.
The long dead souls exploded,
Reaching the pinnacle of their dance.

Metal slowed its rage,
The feast of dead souls done.
Fire instantly vanished,
Air could breathe once more.

Metal stopped in an instance,
A final roar and it was gone.
A monolith it had become,
With a cooling creak, Metals journey done.

This avenue that leads from his burial I walk,
The trees watching over the dead,
Their leaves as white as the gravestones,
All I now see is my pistol raised at his head.

I am not a murderer, I am not a monster,
I am only a true friend.
As his mind wrestled in Arkham Asylum,
He begged me to bring him death.

A mansion inherited from his Uncle,
His journal a tale of madness and mayhem.
Creatures, rituals and astrological alignments,
A monolith rose in the dark lake.

My friend he swam out to the monolith,
The stars reflection broken in his wake.
My friend he touched the monolith,
Dragged under he suddenly became.

For months no body ever was raised,
The lake held the monolith in its depths,
When I offered my life to find my friend.
The monolith rose once again.

That night I dreamed of the ‘Deep Ones’,
A race of fish like men.
They answered the offering of my life,
They delivered the ‘Book of the Dead’.

The book I found in the hallway,
In the morning after I wake.
Surrounded by stagnant water,
And weeds that belong in the depths.

That evening I read from the book,
The blood from my wrists I gave.
A monstrous storm grew overhead,
Waves crashed upon the lake.

Unable to move from weakness,
through the window I saw the lake.
Upon the monolith sat a creature,
Its bulging eyes caught my gaze.

With thunder, the doors slammed open,
There stood before me my friend.
His skin pale and damp,
His eyes spoke of the dead.

He cursed me for bringing him back,
He spoke of life beyond death.
He screamed at his new masters,
To take him back to the depths.

In rage he smashed the lamp,
Ancient curtains rose in flame.
The family mansion burned,
Villagers pulled us from the flames.

My friend was committed whilst I was saved,
Upon his request a gun I rasied.
With his death I must complete the deal,
The ‘Deep Ones’, my  life must be claimed.

This avenue that leads from his burial I walk,
The trees watching over the dead.
I am a murderer, I am a monster,
I now serve Dagon, an eternity awaits.

Dedicated to HP Lovecraft

She thought to herself as she stood at the gate.
What mysteries does that old house contain?
What thrills, excitement and fear shall I gain?
Shall I step through this night and make my claim?
Her eyes sparkled as her thoughts ran away.

Her childhood filled with tales to keep you away.
Haunted by ghosts and a goblin whom played deadly games!
An asylum for mad folk who had once misbehaved!
The boy who had died a horrible death!
When he hid there after running away.

The gate squeaked loudly trying to complain.
But she ignored its warnings and accidently trod on a snail.
She ran up the path, past the old rose plants.
Whose blood red petals had died for winter to come.
She looked at the door, her questions out laid.

Are you the door that opens to my dreams?
Are you the door that hides in my nightmares?
Are you the door that opens to ghosts?
Are you the door that protects the goblin?
The door did not answer.

Knowing the door could not help,
she sighed and looked elsewhere.
She crept past the windows, daring to look in.
Shadows moved against the walls within.
Her heart leapt in fear and joy wanting in.

She ran round the corner into the veranda.
An old swing chair hung, gently swaying in the wind.
She sat down and pondered the trouble she could get in.
Will she get attacked by bats and eaten by rats?
Would ghosts and the goblin take me away?

She then saw the window that was open.
She ran to the entrance and looked right in.
She then pulled herself up and clambered across.
She ran through a door and entered within.
She ran up the stairs and then she saw him.

He stood there all green and lumpy like.
He stood there with his ears pointed quite high.
He stood there picking his nose with a knife.
He stood there and smiled at his new delight.
“You want to play my game” he asked.

“What game is that” she asked with fright.
“It’s a game of chance” he replied suddenly hiding the knife.
“What can I win” she wanted to know.
“Your heart’s desire and some Crumpets”
“Crumpets?” she replied. “Crumpets” he replied.

“What can you win” she asked
“Your heart” he simply said.
“How do I play?” she replied with some disdain.
“Just take my hand” he easily claimed.
She grabbed his hand and they walked away.

They walked to the secret held in the loft.
They ate banquets in the dining room all covered in dust.
They entered the playroom where ghosts came to play.
Laughed at the rocking horse with only one rock.
The next thing they knew it was the light of the day.

“I must go now” he said, “The light it hurts.”
“Have I won?” she asked with a sadness inside.
“Yes you have” he simply replied.
“But you have lost then” she remarked with a frown.
“Oh but I have also won” he smiled.

She leant over and kissed him as he gazed into her eyes.
She whispered “I love you, you have my heart.”
He held out his hand and opened his fingers.
She took the crumpet with delight.
He smiled and said “And now we leave to live in the night.”