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Stephen Michael McGowan


Hull, England, UK

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In Awe Of Edgar A. Poe


Stephen Michael McGowan

The dream, the dream ‘tis here again_
Slivered flesh I fantasise of in my darkest dreams,
A human stew or broth of you
My tasty one; now sleeping got.
‘Tis time to make my broth for maw and gulf,
To tender you before the rigor mortis takes its toll
I fillet your heart slowly over pot of heathen brew
And as the slices drop so thickly into bloody stew,
A single smile, a hint of guile upon my drooling lips;
Your entrails on the kitchen floor
I’ll feed your black cat with and more,
But I shall have the lions share
Laugh at me now; they would not dare.
Thrice I stir the bubbling brew
‘Tis time to take the plunge in you
At first my love just a sip or two,
I place the spoon betwixt my moistened lips and_
You have such subtle flavour, which I alone now savour.

Tune In...Turn On


Stephen Michael McGowan

Tune in the news and what do I hear
Melting ice caps_
Poisoned heart,
Soul ripped apart,
Foreign wars still raging, motherless babies wailing;
Whilst at home the poor go hungry on the mean streets.
Turn on the T.V. and what do I see
Mass murder upon every corner,
What has happened to justice, to law and to order?
The religious violence spreading
As the hatred of man for man is swelling,
Are these the prophesied last days or my own purgatory?
No engorged mushroom shape yet darkens the sky,
But still human life is taken_
In the blinking of an eye,
And I glimpse the mottled, foul grey flesh of death
As he does his dance macabre behind my back;
All these things have torn my fragile life asunder,
A deep, profound affect have they upon me had
The acid rain, the widows’ pain
And the wailing of the martyred,
But still and all, and having known you;
I am now a witness to truth and to beauty too!

Lupus In Limine


Stephen Michael McGowan

The figure I saw pass by my window, appeared the embodiment of love,
Yet I sensed that what now stood at my threshold was a warped love of lust;
I sat beside my hearth afraid to move, but she could sense that I was there
Nostrils flared, pupils dilated as she raised her face to bay at the moon,
Her wretched and bleached mistress of lunacy;
Should I let such a creature stay, of my own free will invite it in?
I moved towards the door and opened it a crack to see - good Lord,
I was frozen to the spot by beauties spell, this could be no creature spawned of hell;
She saw my smile and with coquettish mien, unhurriedly turned her face away;
I’d fallen as her sex consumed its prey.
‘Come in, come in you must be cold, come warm yourself beside my hearth_’
Had that been an invite of free will? She took my seat beside the roaring flame.
I closed the door and took a chair; I sat enamored by her amber stare
And yet also in the iridescent light I saw_ something not quite right,
Her hair, which at first sight I’d thought, was rich and thick, and full of delight
Now looked more akin to animal pelt;
Her jaws seemed to widen, to elongate as at a yawn,
Her lips curled back exposing teeth the likes of which I’d never known
And a scream escaped me as she growled-
‘I am that which consumes men’s souls, I come to take yours to nourish my own.’
My scream was choked off in my throat; lycanthropy had taken hold
Of my fair strangers mind, and as the madness took her mind
So the lycanthrope within her took my life
And as my life blood ebbed away I awoke to a strange new day.

Beneath The Laburnum


Stephen Michael McGowan

Beneath the young laburnum tree you gravely wounded me,
A spear betwixt the ribs would have caused less pain
Than the words you spoke to rip my heart in twain;
Beautiful, low hanging yellow flowers frowned upon the scene;
As my tortured soul cried soundlessly through the trees
Carried by no earthly wind, but upon a phantom breeze.
What I thought your faultless female form became deciduous,
I sat petrified, unnerved as you shed your stolen skin;
You stood before me naked in the shade of the laburnum
And I was witness to the beast which has driven men to madness;
Too late I knew to love you had been a mortal sin
My one defence in Hell, your subtle manipulation of loveless men.
Beneath the pretty laburnum tree you laughed as you slew me,
Just one more eager victim of your antiquated beauty,
I was damned to walk forever a forest of lost souls
And the willow wept and the rowan turned to stone;
Its rose-red berries burst to turn the ground a bloody crimson
As my crippled heart let out its woeful groan.
Your feline frame and prim demeanour vanished
And my heart, once full of love was sorely ravaged
As with a devilish smile full of ageless guile you wished me well,
Then turning on all fours you loped away;
You had caught a scent and now stalked other prey
And left behind with scant a second thought
A man that had loved you and who had died that sunny day
There beneath the laburnum tree_a part of him still lay.

And Money Grows


Stephen Michael McGowan

Ad astra...
A void in the darkness, draw nearer the void
A light in the darkness, the dark of the void
Draw nearer the light,
This light is a star in the pitch of the void
A blazing orb of pure white light
Draw nearer this globe - this puritan sight
We shall wait now for what is to be.

A millennium, perhaps quite a few
An explosion that tears this cosmos in two,
We are tossed through time and space & void
With electrons and protons and atoms & gas,
For eons we travel with no way to stop
Whilst around is created a strange new cosmos.

Open your eyes and feel how we slow
Look out on this wonder and see new stars glow,
We leave now this galaxy to float on perchance
To seek out a rock that might sustain life.
Great patience as we come to rest
Upon a lonely rock in space
Barren, cold and devoid of air,
But look on she has a satellite
And as it swims around her heaven
A warming star will bring life’s flock
Of creatures Gods have never seen,
Made of this planets very steam
Its body’s very elements.

Now shall we sit and rest awhile
And wait for sight of growth,
And when at last a blossom blooms
We shall become as ghosts
For Gods no longer walk new worlds,
Except in the dreams of Man.

After plant life, after heat
Grew life that stood at eighty feet,
After creatures, after cold
Came the mammal that was man.
Come the first, comes the last
Man did not learn self worth
All that man desired was wealth,
The serpent unleashed was loosed by man (never to be banished again)
Gods watch on with no intervention
Like smoke ghosts of man’s memory.

It lived yet man would take its life
And erase its beauty from his sight
It gave yet he would take too much,
What would he breathe without its health
Or eat without its fruitful wealth?

Man flourished whilst the forests grew
His friends the trees fed him with fruits,
They sheltered him from driving rains,
But now these trees would suffer pains
For man was far too set on gain
And cared not for his planets health.

(One two three trees grew; four five six trees died
For man had built machines.)

And the Old Gods wailing brought a breeze
Their tears fell on the flowers’ deaf ears,
To man wealth was but paper
And his paper grew on trees,
And yet man died, as did the leaves
As one last sigh our planet breathes
For man will be no more...

..A void in the darkness, draw nearer the void
A light in the infinitum.

A Way To Live Or Die


Stephen Michael McGowan

One man; a horse and lance, onward ever onward they advance
With honour much at stake, to protect a maidens’ virtue
Is the knight’s charge undertaken made!
Of flesh, of bone and iron; each man must stand alone
And prove his worth to God on high, to show his foe his mettle;
The first to utter 'yield' is first to die!
But the maiden’s honour at all cost is championed by the brave,
Sunlight shimmers silver from a polished helm; shield, sword & mace_
One life to save another will soon take place.
In the place of war_the joust; two men at arms beneath God’s glare
Do battle for the maiden fair; the thunderclaps abound
As the battle horses’ hooves strike rapidly, rhythmically the ground;
Two lances lowered, one it’s aim is true; unsettled from his saddle is one knight.
Taking up his sword and stance the fallen man dispenses with the lance,
Whilst the gallant foes large charger bears down upon his quaking form;
A wide swing and a lunge, his foes great mount is humbled,
The steed stumbles, tumbles, crumbles; but its rider is thrown clear,
The first knights too unwieldy wardrobe makes his movements far too slow
For him to strike his killing blow.
Our hero rolls from out harms way, removes his helm and stands asway
Defiant; ‘though his sword is lost, his mace is close at hand,
Both men now make their final stay; a mediaeval duel to certain death
The chivalrous way to live and die and the devil takes the hindmost;
The devil takes the first man who must say_'I yield!'