tagNon-Erotic PoetryHere Be Monsters

Here Be Monsters


Hold, be still
Of limb, of tongue, of heart and mind,
Do not tremble, nor sweat,
Let no sign be, discarded, left as telltale’ behind.
Walk in care
In silence,
Tread soft this darkling way,
So we might cross this formless desert,
Before its guardians demand we stay.

No map depicts a safe way,
No chart to vouchsafe a route,
Only instinct,
Set to guide us, each foot damned to follow foot.
March in darkness
In midnight
Moonless and forlorn,
But move swiftly seeking morning,
So by morn’ we may be gone.

This journey, made so often,
Yet never known before,
This realm, a land well accessed,
Yet always through a different door,
Reach out,
Rely on sensing,
Trust not the path you know,
At sounds not of our knowing,
Take no pause, allow no hesitation
Rise up and swiftly go.

We came of our own volition,
We chose to join this oft’ repeated raid,
We are damned to hunt these dreamlands,
where nightmares are also made.
Well armed,
In fact reshaped as fiction,
Yet still I feel resilient fear’s chill blow,
As in choirs of cacophonous fury,
We hear bestial pack calls grow.

They come closer by the moment,
Louder with each shambling pace,
Snapping, snarling, dribbling,
Hatred seeping from each bestial face.
So hideous,
Hell wrought creatures,
All talons, fangs and teeth,
They scent our human nature
Desire to feed on our belief.

Too close, we cannot lose them,
No choice left but to stand and fight.
Steel filled hands shall demand a payment,
My life will not be priced so light.
So close to morning,
Close yet so removed
The sun once more seeks its sway,
It glimmers on skyline,
So close I came to waking, so near the bright new day.

Yet still , they howl and clamour,
Scenting deep and bloody wounds,
Once more, they taste the memories,
Leaving scars like bloody runes,
As one, in hatred
They snap, rip and slash.
My curved blades sing their song of healing
Carving glories in dark air.
Even as I fall beneath their swarming, I shall reap and rend and tear.

Daylight,slowly breaking,
Bringing swift relief,
From each day’s ending’s horrors
Filling darkness,
O’erwhelming sleep.
Those beasts are of my making,
Each formed from memory’s mould,
In each wound they wreak the bounty, bestowed by memories old.

New day I greet you warmly,
Yet still your face I hate,
For with each and every sunset
Remembered horrors simply wait,
They fill shadows,
Even in daytime,
Those creatures, these pets I keep,
Set free, at each days ending,
To hunt me every time I sleep.

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byShamanskiss© 2 comments/ 1902 views/ 0 favorites

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