"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Buried beneath the snow line, these smouldering corpses begin to glow. Forgotten fires, whose reanimated embers burn brightly across the tundra; frozen bodies recoiling at the heat of their undying embrace. Thawed to life by distant warming these undead hordes now straddle horizons; crimson fingers flickering over blue-veined memories, as …
The sky is ablaze. Waves of dirty yellows wash over the ground, as crimson smoke licks barren clouds that loiter jeeringly overhead. Fuel litters the floor, its perilous potential scattered absently across the detritus; the cost of its appearance obscured by the multitude of our transactions. Silhouettes …
The sun-bleached earth bursts into flame, As lightning forks across the sky; A stolen gift for us to try, A burning life that we could tame. But once we gave this gift a name, We blinked the impacts from our eye; The sun-bleached earth bursts into flame, As lightning …