Devil’s Den

On isle alone

tan shores gorge

sky blue seas…

Tides travel on

slain beaches, obsidian ridden…

Obscene flames persist

freeing foam roams

grains rife with volcanic relics,

Lava lush as emerald

shards brushed by swooping gales…

Palm trees shredded of

hair-like bark, leaves fallen

cabin fever in Satan's hand…

Death frolics past my lips

carried by journals and dusty books…

Often pioneers patrol dense fields

for artifacts of decades past, some nights

they riot through nuclear winter inland,

Concrete debris, steel demon's

felled, bodies disintegrate,

crismon soil

Where Hellish fruits preside,

germinating in a sporadic pattern,

flames warm polar desert rubble…

I awoke afraid to look out past

vast pardisial landscapes,

Bullets holes and fragile brass

swarmed my watchtower, canvas

tents below flicker, poachers it seems…

Fatal July approaches, June

a phoenix spewing summer solstice

Across alienated rock, I punch

Reinforced walls at times breaching

It's judgmental exterior,

I paint like Picasso,

I bleed like Van Gogh…

Bed sores multiply, I lay down until

I'm ready to eat, sleep fades as I

scroll, invaders below speak

Up every evening threatening to

assassinate me, they throw frags

On my deck hoping to weaken

my war weary fortress, I tell them

not even every nuke left on this

Brutal globe could bring this

concrete monstrosity down,

This is Devil's Den,

A place to dwell, not purgatory,

Barely a means of defense

Whoever was worth saving is

gone

What remains is me.