Eden’s Doom

Ancient temples
alabaster spires
gleaming golden domes
crumbled to dust
& blown asunder by a tempest
that howls like the damned.

A land once Heaven touched
teeming with bounty for the sons of man
now cowers under an ashen sky
Paradise violated.

Mechanical angels ravaged by rust
tossed aside like neglected toys
the promise of greatness corrupted
into a sermon of destruction
scribed in blindness by hatred & greed.

 

 

 

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Cellar of my Soul.

 

Fragments of dreams

like shattered shards of glass

remnants reflected

never to be whole

swept away

into that mental trash bin

while Time, like cosmic dust, seeps through the cracks in my mortality.

 

Fragments of dreams

like splinters of wood

burrowing into my mind

images left behind like underexposed photographs

stuffed into my subconscious

like snapshots shoved into an overfilled shoe box.

 

Fragments of dreams

like whispers

delicate as a spider’s web

intangible as a phantom’s touch

emotions swirl in my heart

from a sermon untold

like promises unheard

murky murmurs echoing in the cellar of my soul.

12-26-2015

On The Dark Side of the Street

This was originally posted over at Thy Demons Be Scribblin.

On The Dark Side of the Street

I wander through this labyrinth of rusted steel and broken concrete

aimlessly seeking shelter from the shadows and decay

that stalks my every step like the hounds of an urban Hell.

 

Ashen clouds smother the sun

casting a dismal twilight on every street

Where I cannot find even a single soul to greet.

 

Asphalt cratered like the moon under my feet

the pungent stench of the waterfront washing over me.

Giants of industrial might left to succumb to the ravages of rust

towers tumbling from the murky heavens

as if even the Gods have turned a blind eye to this perpetual dark side of the street.

 

Curious creatures cowering in cobwebbed corners.

Something older then man and beyond my mortal comprehension.

Their hideous howls chill my bones to the marrow

as I scurry through this maze of ruined streets that seem to narrow

amongst the ruins that teeter on the precipice of madness.

 

The click-clack of their talons

upon the asphalt and cobble

fill my soul full of fright as I stumble through this eternal nightmare

the blistering breath of the curious creatures on my neck

their jagged teeth gnashing at my heels

the inhumane gaze of their bulbous eyes.

 

Their talons tear through my flesh like bayonets

scraping bone and slicing sinew

screams erupt from my bloody lips

as I descend into an endless spiral of agony and madness.

 

WurmHead

catacombs1

Lost in the catacombs, again
deep below the waking world
in this festering womb
where nightmares breed
like maggots writhing in carrion corpses.

I make my home, amongst the bones
of this osuary I roam
not another living soul I see
this unfathomable darkness is all I need
a blind spot in God’s eye
where diabolical acts are unleashed
on angel’s flesh soft as snow
divinity’s blood is sure to flow
screams as etheral as Grace
wither under the strain of unyeilding pain

Heaven forsake me
I live eternally in this kingdom of bone and mud
like a worm in the coffins of corpses bloated and white
I grow fatter on fear and agony with every passing year.

Blood Stained Mary

Artwork by Kevin Hurtack 2006
Artwork by Kevin Hurtack 2006

Blood stained Mary

arise from the dust of eternity

and sing those ancient songs to me

 

Oh Blood-Stained Mary

broken bones and cemetery stones

 

Let me run my hands

through your brains

 

Oh Blood-Stained Mary

slither out of your grave and lay with me

 

On bended knee –

down to your catacomb

at your altar – partake your sacrament

 

Oh Bood-Stained Mary

legs open like a grave

 

Oh Blood-Stained Mary

you’re the fear I’m feeling

the damnation I’m needing

2006/2015 Kevin Hurtack

Madre Morte

she’s the kinda person

who holds doors

open

for ghosts

1999

Poetry: Birthright

Birthright

 

 

Midnight’s my birthright

stop peering at my haunted soul and come on in

let my darkness seep into  you like  blood through silk

 

Midnight’s my birthright

things undone under the Sun

things that creep and things that slither

things that beckon come hither

 

Midnight’s my birthright

Wolves howl and Gypsies dance

claws and tender flesh

limbs entwined as lovers mesh

playing games that make the Angels fall

 

Midnight’s my birthright

I’m a soothsayer and a dream maker

slip out of your mortality languidly

and I’ll teach you all about the wonderous abandonment of reality

 

Originally Published in Ragged Edge Publishing, 2006