Tag Archives: Night

Chaos and Terror

Chaos is the Cosmos telling you that you are forever lost.

Turmoil.  Mind like a lost gypsy cab driving through a chaotic concrete jungle.

Dystopia.  Disembarking, it’s so dark and it’s so quiet in the ruins, grey and burned black broken like bad teeth .

Lost.  Then I’m walking on wet cobbled stones, just a bum with threadbare dirty clothes, down at the heel shoes, a body that’s all skin and bones. 

Doom.  The final dark gloom of a Dead Man Walking to nowhere and forever.

Despair.  Now all the good has gone from my life ~ what is joy, what is elation?

Dishonour.  I want you all to know that once I was proud, once I was a man and once I meant something.  But that’s not now.  That’s not now.

Terror.  I need to wake up.  I need to go home.  I need to find friendship again.

Loneliness.  I have no love, only blackness in my heart, my Goddess has gone.

Nightmare.  But, bad memories, just like the seas, live on.



jack collier


night’s dark perception



something just isn’t right

haunting pale moonlight

demons stalk the black night

jealousy bites hard in sad twilight

and daylight offers nothing bright




words and pictures by jack collier   jackcollier7@talktalk.net

Dawn’s Solitary Imaginings

Alone at Dawn’s Early Light


There is a time between midnight and dawn when the world holds its breath.

Those who are awake are mostly illuminated by the glow from a laptop screen.  They may have some humanity or they may be too involved in a game.  Some have to be reminded that there is a real world.

Before the early light of dawn turns night into day, the music of the night reaches to the deepest and darkest recesses of the soul.

Tenderness and compassion live here.

The only evil in the world is in the mind of man.

Man believes that it’s him against the world.

This is when a man grieves for his lost love.  This is when a man lies to himself and tortures with imaginings.  This is when men may turn to the bottle.

Eventually, with patience, the truth will emerge.  The truth is never as bad as our own imaginings.

The werewolves come and go at our own bidding.

We come to realise that we always knew the truth.

From there, it’s not far back to sanity and peace.


words and picture by jack collier


%d bloggers like this: