KENNETH N COOK

DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

The icy blackness
is a shroud of suffocation
enveloping my quivering body,
as the thick silence
impregnates my brain
with white noise
from an unseen hell.
I have descended into
a pit of frozen, eternal night,
and my soul is screaming
to anyone and anything,
while oily laughter bounces
gaily off hidden ebony walls;
echoing along
endless hallways
and spiralling down
bottomless wells,
as ruby eyes
watch with unearthly patience
from chambers filled
with unholy,
immeasurable darkness.

FOG

The damp
smoky fog
curls among
the pines
and moistens
the needles
lying trampled
on the autumn
forest floor
in a bed
of crunchy amber
as it wisps
along on its
wet and
whimsical way
through the crisp
October morning.

ONE MORE POEM

One more poem.
One more before my sun sets
and darkness covers me
like a grey, dusty shroud.
One more before my fire goes out
and the blackness of night
silences me like a corpse.
One more before my eyes are sealed
like the door to a tomb
and the daylight scratches in vain
at my scab-encrusted eyelids.
One more poem.
One more chance to shout my words
into the dark emptiness of eternity.

[~ Kenneth N Cook]