Triptych part two


The world burned unnoticed

As wise men stared heavenward

Unaware of the flames lapping

The hems of their robes.


The second death went unnoticed the gaunt figure ungrown into itself awkwardly collapsed on the basketball court. The stranger woke in a world gone mad like termites driven to compete, touch the darkened corpse of a languid God. They built needled pinnacles to pierce the sky. Slowly the slaughtered masses provided gothic architecture.


The air was stretched thin between petulant hands neither wanting to share (sirens, medics fought to provide air, as rigour set in). A colossus stood watch across fetid harbours as the stranger walked on ignored by all his skin taut recorded every deed. The words of truth ran down his spine a guide for those who wanted to know. Yet none could read.


His martial prowess was for naught in a land were deeds were soon forgot. The children rocked in sun baked streets no more games the air stifled any that tried. Jackal headed youths blocked the path he stood his ground. No one breathed, blistered skin cracked at his death’s head grin. Armed with the staff of destiny and jaws of entropy he knew the proper way.


Life costs nothing freedom is priceless,

Inexperienced nurse plunges

Syringe into the corpse child

Brings life to fragile form.





Air invisible constantly

Touched, needed

A precious commodity for some.


Sulphuric fumes clouded the world, choked the land, caked the streets with yellowed dust.

Only the bravest of souls went outside when the eldritch martyrs belched their fumes poisoned the hapless masses cowered in the gutter bowed beneath the chains of mockery.  Witch doctors struck down the weak and ineffectual leaving only the strong to survive.



With rags wrapped around his face the stranger approached the charnel pits his tattered feet kicked the powdered misery, gas masked trenchcoats turned to stare. The constant beat of a feeble heart plucks at nerve endings slowly driving the stranger deeper into despair. (I bet you twenty quid he dies tonight) – Callous whispers on the wind.



He stopped his shoulders bared tattooed with scars and ancient script the twisted word a map for the wise. Anger pulsed in his veins as he approached the servants of martyrs past with truth and entropy he smashed their masks. Choked on the toxic fumes of their masters they proved no match freedom, unwanted his gift went unaccepted.


Fragile frame wired to various devices,

Walls became cells,

Intensive care a prison for the soul.




Pandora’s box lay broken

Hidden in the wasteland,

Absolution was a child named



His journey neared its end he climbed the precipice and using truth he cantilevered death unto the heads of eldritch martyrs. The rubble trapped the sulphuric fumes in time the toxic wastes would heal (his breathing is stronger today), his doorway into the world each death. The huddled masses watched caked in the dust of oppression, the sky darkened and rains washed it all away.


He knew the path a stone’s throw across a lake of fire where vulture circled and jackals devoured the unwary. Each step agony as the ground seared his flesh truth demanded his pilgrimage to heal the land, acid rain threatened to strip the flesh from his bones.  He sought shelter until the rains passed, beneath the collapsed corpse of a godhead calcified because of lack of belief.


Days passed and still the rain showed no signs of reprieve in despair he carved a cloak from the godhead’s hide. Covered in the skin he stepped forth galvanized into action, the jackals circled afraid of entropy hunger goaded them on. His goal so close he refused to submit sent the pack running their shadows unravelled as he approached the battered portal.


Eyes fluttered open

Cables surrounded pierced

The flesh ‘nil by mouth’

Life returned.


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