The moon in his eyes……

Inspired by an ancient waymarker in a silent churchyard way up on Exmoor; a land that has so many tales to tell, if only it could…..

A solitary waymarker stands tall, marking the boundary of the graveyard; a tick upon the land. No blood, no sign of any struggle, not now. A girl long ago cruelly hunted down and burned, leaving no trace; just ashes, dust scattered to the winds on that wild and desolate moor, where these days only the wind howls to the moon.

Not for the likes of her sweet and loving soul, the serenity of a consecrated graveyard. Not for the likes of her the dignity of remembrance. Not for the likes of her an epitaph carved lovingly in stone; only the winds and rain to wash away all traces.

All she did was to fall in love, to surrender her heart and soul to the one who loved her back.  All she did was fall in love wildly with a passion of her being way beyond her years. All she did was fall in love with a dark and wild immortal with the wind in his hair and the moon in his eyes. All she did was to allow him to love her back.

All she did was to kiss him on that wet and stormy night in that dark, desolate graveyard way up there upon the moors. It was all she did, one kiss, one passionate and rain-soaked kiss.  It was all she did, she fell in love with the immortal with the wind in his hair.

Some nights when wandering up there on the wild moors, one can almost catch the movement of shadows out of the corner of one’s eyes. One can almost hear the rustling of wet leaves and the sound of damp footsteps running frantically through the graveyard.

One can almost imagine in the darkness, the waymarker with the sturdy gorse bush still growing at its foot after all these years, on an otherwise dry patch of lifeless earth where nothing else will ever grow. And if one was to imagine sinking down upon one’s hands and knees under the waymarker, one can almost see the rivulets of blood running forth onto wet saturated garments in the rain; up there on the moors.

And some nights when the moon is round and the air is dry it is not hard to imaging a lonely cloaked figure under the waymarker scraping away at the parched black earth where nothing lives. One could almost imagine a figure with the wind in his hair, uncovering an old and crumbling piece of wood tossed away in haste by those who feared a vengeful god and who had time and guilt on their hands; a simple weapon that had long ago pierced his lover’s trusting heart.

One could almost imagine
Whilst up there on the moors….

marker.png 3

Adueni ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

May 2016


Ego Derived…..

From the Allographic workshop in Cambridge these words resonated in my mind from the word ‘Ego’:

Power… Fear… Uptight… Chains… Boundaries… Delusion… Lies… Humanity… Crushed… Fruitless… Commanding… Deadly… Visionless..

And from those words a poem birthed

Hidden within humanity

Are the boundaries of delusion.

Held strong by misplaced power

Fed by fruitless fear and lies.

In a visionless future world

Hides the deadly chains,

The lock and key lost in time.

Yet time itself already crushed

Within its own delusion of lies.

A fruitless circle of becoming

As the Serpent is fed


February 2017 Allographic Workshop: Cambridge

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’

Truth is a darkness; suspended in a time that does not exsist…..

Endlessly i fall caught in a chasm of wonder. Spralling onwards


The bones of my being find shelter & solace ‘neath the comforting shadow of my soul

Digital Camera

Sounds of tinkling pipes woven by the winds own charm weave around my soul

Digital Camera

Silently i tread the years of earthly time; my one companion, my warrior soul…

Digital Camera

With breastplate and sword I stand steadfast and mighty. In silence i rule

Digital Camera

Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time cease to be & all there is is the truth….


My name is silence only whispered by the wind when the sky is dark

Digital Camera

Suspended timelessly in a space of my own creation; i weave reality with the electrons of my mind…..


All secrets revealed, all knowledge known. At the end of days i shall become into being and She will rise within


And so it goes on bood spilled, innocents ravaged man’s death on the cards….


The time is now here for man to be accounted. Too late for good deeds…


Save your soul, lest you weep and pray for no more tears. Tis over, all done…


Beach huts hibernate dreaming of hot days and sand. Returning cycles


Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time ceases to be & all there is is the truth. The land will endure over centuries of upheavel, always renewing itself at perfect points giving humanity life once more


Words from the ‘Keeper of Scrolls’  ‘Truth is is darkness suspended ina time that does not exsist’

January 2017 (All photos and words are original and belong to the author)

Deck the Halls

My anti-consumerism poem which is just right for this time of year


Dripping souls festoon each bough

And rafters gleam with blood and slime.

The vast halls echo with dreams unsung

And stories never told.

Tis the time of peace on earth

Tho dust and dark descend.

No sun, no star, no guiding light,

No babe, no hope, no joy.

The gates of doom will yet unfurl

As night and day collide.

Dark ones wrapped in cloaks of light

Fly swift between the worlds.

They reap the souls from mortal men.

To bring them home to Him.

He sprawls upon his jewelled throne,

To await his gifts galore;

Encrusted with be-jewelled hearts

And entwined with weeping souls.

Upon this throne He proudly waits

As his bloody booty does come home.

He’ll raise his glass to one and all

And wish you merry cheer

Then down your blood in one fell swoop

And devour another soul.

Its party night in Underworld

The invites are on their way.

Come swathed in black,

Come drip with fear,

Please come and dine with Him.

But leave your soul hung by the door

As there’s much fun to explore.

You gaze around the bedecked halls

At souls so brightly hung.

Purged of bodies now disposed,

It could be you, it may be you.

You sing the tuneless song.

The song of man, the song of peace,

The song of joy on earth.

The song of death, the song of war,

Ah now – the fiddler knows the tune!

You dance with glee,

You dance with joy,

The piper joins the throng.

Round and round and in and out,

Night to day and right to wrong

Tis the season to be jolly,

You weave the merry song.

The song of man, the song of peace,

The song of joy on earth.

So deck the hall with dripping souls

“Trala lala la lala la la!”




Written Yule 2007

“The Keeper of Scrolls”

Dec 2016





It wasn’t the shadows in the woods that haunted me most

It was the ones in your eyes

It wasn’t the wind screeching through the bare boughs that bought me deathly chills

It was your terrified scream

It wasn’t the track through the forest leading nowhere

It was your frantic footsteps running… running…

It wasn’t the lake serene and beautiful on that moonless night

It was your body; serene and beautiful in the water

It wasn’t the single red bloom that fluttered silently out of nowhere to rest upon your breast

It was that single drop of red blood

It wasn’t my hands loving and tender

It was the white of my knuckles grasping the still bloodied knife…



November 2016

Photography – me

Keeper of Scrolls

On a Friday eve…

A Friday night eve

An abandoned airfield

Silence and stillness

Mysterious lights



Lost souls

Coincidental figures

Speak of the way



Hedges and fences

Living quarters



Hot and cold

A figure


Spirits roam

Lost airmans souls

Seeking home



Dark doorways

Graffitied walls

Stairway shadows


Memories of the past

Entwined in the present

Never forgotton

Psychic graffiti


Whispering steps

Never alone

Senses alive

A kerbside encounter

Spirit tracks

Eternity lingers into darkness

Lost souls


Through the veil

We will see

All that we are meant to see….

Through the veil

We will see

That of which is meant to be….

Through the veil

We will see

Into the deep, dark sea eternally….



Oct 2016


(A Gothic inspired poem in the style of Poe’s ‘The Raven’)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Upon a lost love gone for years; upon a life lost too;

I search in vain for evermore.

Why so young an Angel taken?

Why so young a life forsaken?

Suddenly snatched from mortal realm

With ne’er a chance to say goodbye

With ne’er a chance to wipe my tear

That fell upon my cheek so soft

And so I pondered long and lonely, feeling weary seeking solace

To quest his long lost resting place; I quest for evermore.

A place I knew ere in my dreams,

For never in my waking hours his sad tomb could I see.

That churchyard old and dark I saw;

In daytime nothing stirred at all.

Why in my dreams and not on earth

I pleaded every night whilst there.

In dreams of night his name I call

Through deaths dark door he whispers mine.

I wander long, alone and teary, vainly searching, vainly seeking

For that which I am so unsure;

I search for evermore.

A tomb maybe, a gravestone marked; a spot upon some barren ground?

In death and dreams he calls me home

My name he calls upon the winds;

In waking hours my torment thrives, fed on my wretched life.

My dreams are that which take my soul

To black tormented realms of pleasure.

Oh death, oh lover why taunt me so?

I beg you leave my dreams alone

Yet take me home with thee.

For in this world I cannot live

Yet can not die in yours.

Sweet freedom free me from this curse

Of searching lost and lonely

For a love lost in the realms of men.

In my dreams his tomb I find

In churchyard dark and dank and dreary.

And so upon a midnight weary I wander in that graveyard dreary

In deaths dark realm for evermore…..



Poem and Photo Adueni 2016

Dark Moon Rising

There’s a dark moon on the rise tonight,

Sweet fear scents the air.

In blackest skies, from other worlds

A shadow casts its cloak.

A tale once played in ancient times

On this day will be told.

A Harvest sown so long ago

Stands ripened in the Sun.

What was sown will now be reaped,

‘Tis the blood of every Lamb.

There’s blood and fear upon our lips

And dread in every soul.

We feed the Ones who take and break

Our Oaths put to the test.

Our souls they steal within no bounds

To spill our Dark Blood on the ground.

Silently in darkest night

In masks known just to them,

Their rightful prize, their precious gold

Will not escape again.

As Dark descends and chaos reigns

The writings yet unfold.

We fall before the ones who map

The fate of every man.

Seize the fear and taste the Blood.

Be counted good and true.

Stay or go – tis up to you;

It is the final test.

As curtains fall upon this world

The tale is finally told.

But those who rid their earthly ties

Will see the Light shine through.

In deepest, darkest, deathly night

We start our life anew.






Whispers of Scarlet Kisses

 Vampiric Haiku

 “Let not the light of day betray the real love that rules the world” 



When years matter not

And seasons slip by unseen

Then my love I live





To find another

Of bloodline true and race pure

Tis an old one’s dream





On these shores I dream

Of days gone by and feasts past

And living embraced





The purest of gifts

Is offered, so drink my love

Two souls bound as one





On the plane of life

I exist in mortal form

Yearning still for Light





In dying embers

Whispers of scarlet kisses

Bleed upon the land




When shadows of time

Creep through the fields of your mind

You will know my kiss



Weaving webs of night

My dream becomes your nightmare

Night and day as one




Freedom i will give

Truths i shall gladly teach thee

Nothing though comes free…



September 2016

“The keeper of Scrolls”

In a world gone mad….

In a world gone mad
Only the truth remains
In a world gone mad
Only truth is a constant
In a world of turning tides
Only the truth will save
In a world on a cusp
Let truth be a guide
In a world of illusion
Dont blink – just see
In a world of falsehood
Take not the lies for granted
In a world of lies
Truth is the freedom
See through the veil
Ignore the false trails,
The false flags,
The false justices and the false politicians
See the enemy within
Do not be fooled
By those who wish you well
Life is not as portrayed
And never has been
Wake up and smell the roses
For they fade in a blink of an eye
Into the mirror of the great illusion
Where reigns the truth
In a world gone mad
See what is
See the truth as it is
Look beyond the horizons
Of limited reach
For in the end
The truth is the key
Is the reality to all that ever was
Or is, or yet to be…..