just wanted to post my fiancé's wonderful new poem The Banjax
This will be illustrated in the near future and hopefully turned into a book of some kind
The BanjaxIn the depths of the swamp in a tumbledown shackThe Banjax by ~ARIrish
built of old twisty driftwood all pitted with cracks,
lives a miserable creature whose heart is jet-black;
the spindly, withered, and ancient Banjax.
His tall, scrawny body is clammy and cold,
with pasty grey skin and patches of mould;
lank greasy hair and ugly white scars,
and inky tattoos of strange spirals and stars.
He keeps his face covered when not in his home,
with a long, pointed mask made of pieces of bone,
and the reason he does this is simple, you know,
for his face is a grotesque he dare never show.
When the sun has sunk low and the water recedes,
and the moon casts its light on