spoken of in the press as the new king of dark poetry, born in 1968
this young poets critical acclaim are as follows:
great poet Bruce Boston says "Hewitts work has potential and
emotion". Simon Clark, famous British horror writer, tipped
as the new Stephen King, says of the poem The fire of insanity,This
is a piece of real power, rich in imagery, sure to be published,and
of the poempan, clark saysincredible vivid imageryand
of the poemit came from the swampan intensely visual
piece in a style that you seem to be claiming for your own.And
of the poem Evilthis is a darkly powerfull piece.Andy
Cox editor of T.T.A.press says,Hewitts poetry is brilliant,
the best I have ever read.
Arnzen bram stoker award nominee, professor of literature says of
panthis is a good job of fomenting madness, and the
insane chaos of pain, the collective voice is chilling, and creepy,and
ofThe fire of insanityyouve definitely got
a talent for mood, and atmosphere, this is a dark and dangerous
piece,and of the poemit came from the swampchock
full of creepy images, dark and disturbing, you have an innate talent.
Also L.Michael Lohr editor says of it came from the swamp,
this reminds me of Lovecraft, very visual and intense.
author Steven Climer says of The fire of insanity this
is a very visual passage, filled with deep despair and emotion,
Crowther member of H.W.A.says ofThe tolling bellsvery
moody and evocative,
Editor, great Horror writer, says of The fire of Insanity,
it is a very powerful pieceand of pan very gothic,
and disturbing imagery,and of The future, its
sentiment and imagery are chilling,Hewitt has lots of talent,
and his writing is visionary.Hewitts writing has also been
compared to author Lord Dunsany by Australian magazine Redsine.
of Hewitts pieces is to appear alongside a Simon Clark piece
calledthe derelict of death,due to be published shortly,
which will be available from good book dealers in Great Britain
and in America., Hewitt has been published all over the world in
unpaid, and paid markets, and he has recently been appointed as
fiction editor for Terrortales online, the extremely popular online
horror magazine, Hewitts career truly does move from strength, to
phantoms gather in the golden mist, and amongst ancient trees, whose
dark gnarled branches grope wickedly upward towards the heavens
and glimmering, phantoms dance, and cavort, in the sunlit golden
mists, relishing and adoring death, at last happy, to be far, far
away, from fearful life.
phantoms like children carry none of the heavy burden of worry,
which stains, and defaces, the beauty of life, but the dark beauty
of death will never fade, for the black rose of death, will always
be in full bloom, due to the rich sustenance of the blood of the
I lie amongst a smouldering, fire eaten, bubbling, stinking, pile
of evil spirits, here our minds fuse, and in unison we scream at
Satan, for more, and more pain, for we relish and adore pain, pain
is our sustenance, pain is our god, Satan obliges, and a wave of
thundering, crushing pain rushes at us, it washes us into ecstasy
far greater than any ecstasy any living being may ever experience,
and at the highest point of this searing, exquisite pain, we meet
the great god pan, and join him in a celebration down amongst the
catacombs of the bowels of Hades, where hordes of heavens angles
are shackled and bound , they sob, and beg for forgiveness for all
their good deeds that they have committed, but pan and Satan know
no forgiveness, and so here they will stay, trapped in this fetid
pit of evil ,they will drown, in the licking ,strangling flames
of hades,while us evil spirits, relish, and enjoy, those very same
Fire of Insanity"
holy ghost has led me to a lonely demise, I have been thrown into
a pale blue oblivion, amidst a bone crushing, mind breaking, tsunami
of paranoia, left to die on a deserted island, eternally cursed
by the fire ball which burns above me, it laughs, mocks, and pokes
fun at me, I turn inwards on myself, self destructing, shrivelling,
and shivering, at the stigmata ridden feet, of the holy ghost. I
am my own slayer, a slayer of my dragon like soul, whose fire is
now nothing but mere embers, gently glowing on the arid golden beach
of life ,for I am a murdering wretch , a murdering lost wretch ,in
a paradise long forgotten.
hear the tolling bells of the dark tower of Babel, under blood streaked
skies I can hear the bells, a mournful sound the bells of Babel,
they are wailing for me, they are wailing for you, the spirits they
toll the bells, and we are drawn to them in a dreamy trance, for
the spirits they want to posses us, and lead us to the land of the
inhabited home of our fathers, who patiently wait, for our weeping
and whining arrival, because to the bells of Babel we are drawn,
like a bee to a sweetly scented flower, or as a lover to a lover
is drawn, or like a bat to the darkness, irresistibly we are drawn.
in the darkness, smothered by the dark cloak of night, small furtive
animals coarse haired, warm bodied, brush against my trembling jelly
heart thumps and squirms within my heaving chest, and icy water
trickles around my bowels, pure fear pumps sweat out of every pore
of my body, I begin to howl and whoop and wail at the heavens, for
I seek forgiveness,anyone can be forgiven at anytime, if truly,
truly sorry, buzzes through my head Im sorry,
Im sorry, God please help me, forgive me for my sins, oh please
spare me this pain, I beg of you, but God is deaf to my pleas,
instead I fear he licks his lips, and smiles with glee at my pain,
as this thought matures and blossoms in my head, bearing the fruit
of more fear ,I feel the first short sharp piercing pains in my
legs, as razor sharp devilish like teeth, begin to strip chunks
of flesh from my bones, begin to tear at my flesh within the darkness
and my nerves shriek,crying out in agony , light headed now, praying
for the sweet escape of oblivion,the coppery scent of blood fills
my nostrils, and a rising torrent of sickness erupts from my shrieking
throat, I grope for the escape of death,I search for the light at
the end of the tunnel, but all I can see,all I can find, is more
and more bright red blinding pain.
devil prepares a fresh bed of fire for the newcomer, and God washes
his sanctimonious hands, cleansing himself of the thoughts of my
evil dark soul which is now hurling and whirling into the fires
down from my castle high in the sky,
I can see many spirits like puffy clouds float by,
mother, a stillborn baby, and an ancient woman.
float by, they all look so happy now as I look down upon them from
my castle high in the sky.
knock on my windows and doors as they drift by,
want me to join them, to join them in their ghost dance
tomorrow, I shout at them,
gone, please just be gone, leave me be I shout.
yet I feel I have a lot more of lifes long road to endure,
I join them in their ghostly dance,
And one day I know this for sure, and then, no more,
Came From The Swamp"
of the swamp and into the milky moonlight it slithered, the thing
with two heads squealed and howled at the stars, as if seeking some
sort of forgiveness for revealing its hideous countenance, now free
of the swamp, juda one of the devils sons bathes in the moonlight,
regaining strength after the long torturous trip from the baking
oven of its fathers home in hell. Juda begins to split, to tear,
the separation has begun, from one creature of the night into two,
the ripping noise of flesh, and ligaments popping under such an
enormous internal strain is heard, for juda is now entering the
struggle to become two, and then at last he may sample the exquisite
blood of the good.
morning reveals its fresh pretty face the two judas lie side
by side, at the edge of the stinking, bubbling swamp, they dream,
and their dreams are filled with tyranny, and many a painful death
of the innocent, they dream of theirs, and their fathers heroes,
evil dictators, and mass murderers, to name a few, for these all
are the people juda worships, these are the people guided by judas
father, these are the puppets, controlled by Beelzebub, the one
and only great prince of darkness.My father I will emulate
thee, I will walk in thy footsteps, I will slay the innocent, and
send countless numbers of them tumbling, humbled and subdued, where
they will crawl on their bellies, akin to thy marvellous serpents
who serve thee so reverently, and their they will dampen and bathe
your feet in rivers of their tears, for this is how it has to be,
and this is how it most certainly will be.
tear open your coffin, and I will feed off your rotting, stinking
corpse, I will feed on your brain, for I seek your great mind, your
intellect, your problem solving brain will nourish me, and lead
me to great victories, within this vicious blood curdling world.
Under the damned skies which are infernally laced with fire, I will
stare into your empty eyes, and I will beg, and plead with you,
for forgiveness, I will blubber into your decaying face, but then
I must split your skull for the hidden treasure of knowledge within
the darkness of your damp grave, and within the darkness of your
deaths head I must find.
son, you will feel no pain, for your spirit has fled this wicked
world, your smiling face I will always picture in my mind, but my
son I am sorry, for I seek more of you, but I promise I will consume
you swiftly, and see you, and leave you for the final time, and
then, but only then, may the earth finally claim my dearly beloved
only son forever.
I, only I, will then conquer all.
upon a time there did exist an ancient dark castle which was filled
to the brim with a brooding horde of satanic evil spirits, spirits
who did not seek the fires of hell or the cool bliss of heaven but
adored more than anything to gorge themselves on the gothic rich
fearful vibes that emanated from the very walls of the dark castle
itself, they became gluttons for those vibes and grew fat on fear.
Then one dark night when the spider webbed ancient grandfather clock
would strike tiredly the midnight hour in the deathly silence of
the cold and lonely castle, spirits would begin to dance with fellow
spirits spinning twirling and glowing ethereally, they would whisper
and then yell at the heavens above them, mocking and goading, until
eventually they would drift into a sullen boredom, and begin to
talk of how they could enable victory over heaven to befall their
imperious father in hell.
would discuss the destruction of all do gooders, and the most important
part would be the rewriting of all the holy bible that would then
show the sacred writings in a totally different light, which would
then intern enable them to recruit more and more innocent stupid
humans into there wicked fold and begin to preach that Satan was
the only one to save the world and not god, that riches would belong
in abundance to all, that life would become a bed of ruby red roses
on which they would all lie with their leader and great father and
then later with an army of new followers they would be able to stroll
through the gates of heaven and into a certain and glorious victory
with eyes of glowing fire sings a song laced with death,
an image, an image lined with blood, sticky and grimy with blood.
Darkness is strong in its sole, hatred is burning like a huge fire
in its belly, oh blackbird, beast of the darkening skies, harbinger
of death, free us, free us all, show us the way, the way to the
devils door, to be greeted by his crooked smile, and shake his withered
hand of blistering fire, and at last feel oh so secure, so secure.
and tired of searing pain
to tense within its withered human shell, my beautiful spirit prepares
for the short but emotional trip from life to the heavenly light,
where my father and my mother surely await me with open arms.
last, at last I can feel myself slowly being pealed from my withered
dying body, my eyes are closed forever against the light of life
and fear begins to bubble away within me laced with joy full thoughts
of an imminent family reunion.
breathed my last, I will feel no more of the mental anguish that
is caused by life, and now I will head for the blinding light that
lies before me at the end of what appears to be a short dark tunnel.
My spirit is shivering with joy, for what I was taught and told
all through my life is evidently and miraculously true, for there
is a tunnel as death closes in, and there is a light at the end
of it, and behold, behold, for their floating before me entwined
together are the glowing apparitions of my deceased parents.my mother,
oh my mother I have missed you so, and my father who I have missed
painfully for ten whole years you have never left my thoughts, and
now here you are just waiting patiently for me, eagerly I drift
towards their glowing presences ,but wait, this is not right,this
can not be true ,for my father seams to be filled with an infernal
rage and quickly he begins to gouge and dig at my presence with
what looks and feels like a sharp gleaming dagger of ice, he tares
through my spirit from top to bottom with one swift blow,and without
effort he lifts my ragged spirit high,a sacrifice he
cries, a sacrifice for my god,my son has come back to me as
if a sacrificial lamb, and he now is yours oh lord, yours,and
an enormous relentless wave of grief begins to drown me,and finally
all I hear is the loud hysterical evil laughter of my mother, over
,and over as I am drowned relentlessly within a tsunami of grief,
and buried beneath an eternal thundering,crushing mountain of pain.
Great White Worm"
puffy worm, as pure white as freshly fallen snow, lives deep down
beneath the many graves of Gomara, where it feasts upon the rotting
corpses of the dead, deep down, cloaked by darkness, the ancient
worm will never grow hungry, slipping, and sliding, gliding powerfully,
it searches for the delicacy of the lost desperate soul that is
howling somewhere far below, in amongst the shadowy catacombs of
the graveyard Gomara, now dead, but still suffering deeply, the
soul of a small lonely child, weeps, and howls for the return of
life, or for the soft, warm love, of a parent, but unfortunately,
neither of these will be found, for the bloated, blubbery, great
white worm has this souls scent engraved deeply within its brilliant
mind. The taste of a fresh soul to the white soul-hunting worm you
see is unsurpassable.
later, now beneath the old broken down church, lying in the bowels
of Gomara, the great white worm is full, and contented, coiled at
the feet of its dark master, the worm dreams, and the dark one feeds
off these dreams, which are laced with fear, pain, and loneliness,
fine sustenance, for the dark god of Gomara, fine indeed.
light bleeds down upon me from glowing stars, but my thoughts remain
coated with a darkness that only death can bring.
I touch your grave with shivering fingers, I stroke the gravel under
which you lie for all eternity, and my tears drip, drip from blood
shot eyes like holy water they drip down seeking the chilled brow
of my beloved. And Deep down the darkness hugs you like a lonely
child to its cold breast, holds you tight in its icy grip, and whispers
incessantly of dark ancient tales which originate long before the
filthy touch of humankind, the darkness then begins to become agitated,
and of a substance thicker than darkness, as if possessed by an
evil riving spirit, it begins to spit out blasphemous words which
are riddled with dark magic and madness, it shrieks louder and louder
into your rotting worm ridden head, into the decaying passages which
once led to your brilliant brain ,where now only lies more darkness
and where the only life forms are bloated crawling grubs.
damn you, rise, I resurrect you, I resurrect you, I adore you, the
dark one adores you, come back, come back, return damn you, the
great dark one has laid a great banquet for you, and mounds of gold
for you to roll and wallow in, so please return.
all these words are to no avail for nothing will stir within you,
no heart will ever throb within the mound of your chest, and no
light of life will ever pump through your veins, and I pray if you
do shed any tears from your gaping empty eye sockets that they will
be tears for your beloved, who now cries on your grave, far, far
above you. Unable forever to touch you, unable forever to hold you,
unable forever to hear your breathing in the depth of a dark silent
night, for I fear you have now found a new lover far away on the
other side, and to me now you are lost forever.
from the main trunk of my body I lift my dripping bloody head up
toward the heavens, I swing, and swing my torn off head round and
round by my long auburn hair, and my bloody bits spray into the
sunlight that floods through a gaping hole within the angry looking
now To a small brook I carry my severed head, I bend down and begin
to fill my now empty skull with the clean sparkling water, A gory
looking goblet my head, dripping drool, now filled to the brim with
the pure water of the whispering brook, once again I lift my head
high but this time as an offering to the great gods far above, who
in return chant my name and with this my spirit leaps for joy within
my dying corpse.
peace, at peace now for the gods have drank from my gory chalice,
I slump down by the whispering brook and I listen somewhere deep
inside myself to the soft humming lullaby of my long lost mother,
back now in my crib, once again newborn, I dream, and dream of my
sweet loving mother, I dream of the pain inflicted upon me by my
sweet loving mother, I dream of the darkness of her glowering face
that hung above me so often, reeking of stale smelling booze, for
this is my real sweet loving mother, for she truly was the nightmarish
beast with dripping dagger in hand that stalked me through many
a hideous dream,but now strangely in my last moments I yearn and
yearn for her to hold me, as my life gushes from me in scarlet waves
that still pump out of my twitching now useless body.
devil coated in a glorious flowing robe of flame gently plucks scarlet
luscious flowers from empty, decaying, gashed open corpses, and
he begins to hurl the bloody coloured flowers into the air, and
like red rain the silky petals flutter about him and they whisper
as they softly float down towards the licking flames which are waiting
eagerly to devour them in sizzling gulps. They whisper of the wonder
of death, and of the beauty of the devil, they whisper the names
of many gods, and as they near the flames they begin to moan louder
and louder ecstatic now as they feel the heat, and the fire does
rage and rage and spit and lash out at the opalescent coloured skies
which lie serenely above them.
A Dream? Or Maybe Reality?"
by darkness I am drowning in the decadence of a familiar dream,
floating over fields of decaying frozen corpses, glassy eyed, dead
hands grope towards the angry looking skies, as if trying to capture
their fleeing souls, or beckon to me for help, pleading with me
not to let them die. Empty human shells they rest in silence, today
no birds will sing in the skies, an unreal morbid silence reigns,
until Suddenly a jagged sharp flash pierces the belly of the gloomy
looking clouds, and a blood red rain begins to pour down onto the
dead, and quickly they become islands resting amidst bloody seas.
I begin to cry, for my heart it aches within me, to see all these
innocents dead, tears of blood fall from my eyes, and mingle with
the blood that is falling in rivers from the gloomy looking skies.
Quickly I float away from this carnage, for I can not bare a sight
such as this any longer, up, and up through gloomy blankets of clouds
I fly, but I am cloaked in a dark suit of grief, that hangs around
me, still, up and up, I travel, until I enter a total umbra darkness,
which lies far above the sickening scenes that are now far far below,
but even here there is no escape from the darkness of death, for
glowing, wailing souls soar past me in every direction, searching
for loved ones who they will never find,searching for any god, searching
for any glimmer ,or morsel of hope, but their seems to be nothing
, I wish I could help them, but to them I remain totally unseen,
they are in one world ,and I in another, is this the future I observe
through the cloudy window of my dreams, or just a mere ,sick ,depressing
fantasy ,created by a warped, over stressed brain, the answer to
this I suppose I will never attain, or may be one day my dreams
may unfold in front of me in reality,of this only old father time
feeds within the dark pit of death, spirits flee from their ruptured
twisted and torn bodies they flutter like beautiful exotic luminous
birds out and up toward glowering skies, terrified spirits they
dare not stare into the bloody red eyes of Judah the soul smasher.
The beast now is full of joy as he thrashes around in his stinking
pit of the dead for at last he can feed on fresh human meat and
add spirit after spirit to his fine growing gallery collection.
much bloody sustenance Judah sleeps, and he dreams of dragging kicking
and screaming spirits toward row after row of gleaming icy crucifixes,
onto which he impales each spirit riving in agony. After this laborious
but enjoyable task Judah sits and stares weeping with joy at the
site of row upon row of spirits on crucifixes silhouetted against
opaque coloured skies that linger deep within Judahs mind,
and through sobs Judah sings, he sings hallowed praise and thanks
to the sky god, and to the god of fire for the fresh spirits he
has had the ultimate joy of receiving from them.
fire within the pit and Judah is burning, bubbling within the flames,
but he loves the pain he relaxes and lets himself be engulfed within
the inferno that rages in the pit.
there will never be victory over Judah, there will never be the
blackbird of death to carry Judahs spirit away for Judah is
already dead, he is the ravenous merciless leader of the living
dead, and once again already he is hungry for human flesh, so beware,
beware of Judah, for tonight he may be stalking you.
nailed to a flaming cross spits venom at the heavens, and his hideous
horde of blood thirsty beasts gather and chant and whirl and twirl
around that raging cross, evil spirits mop his brow with the blood
of pure virgins, and with the gore of many a slain innocent they
feed him sustanence, greedily he swallows, gulping it down.
night the evil dead will return to worship at the foot of the flaming
cross of Satan.
night Satan with his jagged dagger like fire-ridden fingernails
will reach out to the heavens scratching his bloody name across
the skies making the heavens weep blood. And the blood will flood
the morning though, nothing, the birds will sing, and the people
will smile, and love will gently float upon the warm summer breeze.
at night like every night a dark story once again will unfold.
tonight, tonight, Satan once again will mock and scoff and goad
at the lord.
The Moon of Zennadon"
water gushes down from the mountains of Umbra, filthy water bursts
out from dark deep internal cavities like blood from a severed artery
and the earth seams to bleed.
malformed two headed beasts, pure white, red eyed, slimy animals
of the night, they ride the flooding water which pours from the
mountains, they skip across the galloping waves of putrid filth,
they yelp excitedly like small babies, they scream through the sounds
of the torrents of water that pound down, and down, from the nightmarish
craggy mountains of Umbra, for they know that their journey is nearly
now over the ancient gothic cemetery graves begin to be besieged
and overrun by the web footed, two headed, red eyed, demonic children
of the grey, rugged, harsh looking mountains which now loom in the
they begin to delve deep, and give chase to tired frightened spirits
who are pulled down, attacked, and torn to pieces by the hungry
razor sharp toothed swimming animals, some spirits are drowned,
others are tormented into madness, then hung high from the ancient
trees which stare down disbelievingly upon this frightful scene,
the trees they begin to protest in unison for the spirits to be
left alone, but the barbaric beasts just laugh at the trees, further
insulting them by hanging the spirits high from their branches like
luminous banners which flap and wave beneath the darkening bloody
skies, and so the trees now begin to weep tears of sap which slowly
trickle down their rugged outer skins,and begin to gather in sticky
pools above their knotted roots.
now as darkness reigns, fires can be seen burning across the rivers,
the waters are burning and bubbling, banks of rising steam begin
to float gently amidst the darkness, and upon these banks drift
gloomy downhearted spirits, weak and full of fright, silently and
full of loneliness they search for their lost friends who have been
cast into oblivion by the demons of the mountains of Umbra, friends
who will forever wander on the arid land which eternally sleeps,
on the black side of the fabled moon of Zennadon ,for this truly
is hell, a hell in the gloom and doom of Zennadon.
New Land of Blood"
a while I let my self drift hither and thither upon the warm uplifting
currents of caressing air, I gaze down through a slight misty haze,
through tired eyes, and at once I am paralysed by a rich deep fear,
a fear that loosens my bowels, a fear that turns my body into rubber,
and puts chips of burning ice into my blood stream, I am at once
completely mesmerised by the enormous carnage that now plagues my
once beloved land.
Death now rules planet earth,
is the lone conqueror of my once gorgeous abundant planet,
and lakes of crimson smother, drowning the once fertile soil of
this blessed land in bubbling rippling coppery stinking blood.
monsters wade through the blood, they lap up my ancestorâ€s
blood, they wallow and mate in an enormous sea of blood.
our white bones they are impaling, with our white bones they are
building, they are building a knobbly looking, crooked tower right
up higher and higher, for they are reaching for the stars.
beasts are swarming like ants, up and up the crooked bony tower,
they fight and beat each other with our crimson streaked dripping
bones, they impale, they impale and gouge and twist and shriek with
what seams like a manic delight or excitement.
is not earth,â€ I scream,â€ this
can not be earth, I will never, never accept that this is now earthâ€,
but the torn limbless bodies, the empty staring eyed skulls, and
the bones, the bones, pile upon pile of ivory coloured splintered
bones, they whisper to me a very sad and different disturbing story
which I can not, and will not, ever believe.for my sanity I will
winged, gleaming sapphire blue eyes, wicked dagger like teeth ideal
for ripping and tearing , hooked talons coated with a sticky scarlet
coloured substance, fur the colour of night, behold, for here before
you stands satans subject, a beast of your darkest dreams.
sleep, sleep, and no need to search, for here the demon will sit
before you coated in a glorious robe of grandeur.
winWithin darkness under the cover of night my tears gently dripped
down onto her worn grave, and with bleeding filthy hands I continued
desperately, whipped up now within a mad frenzy to dig and claw
at the upper soil of her grave, and through the sound of my heart
beating loudly within my feeble chest I could here my long lost
dear beloved moaning, and screaming for escape from far far below,a
sound I could not quite believe,for I must be in a dream,but the
pain in my bloody fingers was most definitely all to real. My love
has returned to me, I knew she would, but after all this time, all
these long lonely years, I never thought it truly possible, but
the dark one did promise me, and I knew he the prince of darkness
would never let me down, he told me on the night of all hallows
that she would return and that under the power of the dark one she
would rise again.
it seemed like an eternity before I reached at last the soft rotting
wood of her coffin, the screaming and muling now much, much louder
and fear like electricity shuddered through my body from head to
toe, and now even more quickly almost in a sort of rage I tore at
the soft yielding boards that had held my loved one away from me
for much to long.
him, praise him, I chanted within my mind as I tore of the remaining
boards and peered into an even deeper darkness, a darkness that
could only be the darkness of the grave.
I became paralysed with fear because there before me riving and
bucking frothing from a rotten and torn maggot ridden face my long
lost beloved was in throws of ecstasy entwined with something that
I can only describe as possessing the body of a pig and the face
of a dirty wrinkled leering old man, but what really sent me into
the abyss of insanity was what lay to either side of the entwined
loving couple, and this was the young ones who had obviously been
born from what was once my lovely wife, they were smooth faced creatures,a
pure white,with what I can only describe as a gnashing maw like
mouth,filled to the brim with razor sharp teeth they advanced upon
squealed when they saw me and they leaped from her grave as I tumbled
in massive shock backwards, in a flash they were upon me squirming
into my gaping screaming mouth and wriggling down my tight throat.tearing
chunks of my flesh as they made there way toward my now paralysed
heart they picked and licked at like it was some delicacy, and then
after a short while they carried it gently down in to the darkness
of my wifes grave, fresh sustenance for there mother and father.