the monster

his clouds storm in
bringing waves
warm soft blankets of pure fear
to suffocate the living
and raise the deceased
to eternally walk
the other side of death.

all empty and void of hope
not a chance in Hell
of rising to the surface
to escape
and tell
to warn the townfolk
that the monster is coming.

in league with the Devil himself
dark strength within his iron fist
wielding mind control
the power to capture
the body
the mind
the very soul.

the weak and the sick
even the strong and the purest of heart
all fall like hollow dead trees
in a hurricane
splintered
evaporating
into dust
as he tramples through.

laughing at destruction
dancing in the blood
funeral fires
corpses ablaze
burning flesh
snapping bones
crushed
into the red sucking mud.

moving past
horizons west
new lands to destroy
he carries the disease
onto foreign shores
gray ash rivers
black sand lakes
coal dark cities
a new dead earth.

the summit calls

solid rock rises high
punches the sky
slick
smooth
gray brown tall
rough
jagged green walls...

unforgiving
unyielding
always beckoning--
and the summit calls.

lasso the moon
climb aboard
in your dreams at night
the elusive satellite...

your daydreams
follow close behind
a hand grip here
a toehold there--
oh the summit calls.

dirt under your feet
earth below your soles
gravity
trees
fall away
tendons
muscles
straining--
the summit still calls.

pulling
gritting
fingertips
powdered and dry
forehead wet
one more breath
wedging
rubber slips
over the under
hangs
one more meter--
hear the summit call.

wind at your back
pushing
swinging
steady last ten steps
cool on your skin
the valley below
heaven.

the trip back
afterwards--
the summit answered.