Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
I wanted to see what AI could do with one of my non AI still images, so I cobbled together an extremely short video with a few video and sound effects, and found it quite surprising how well it connected with my Infinite Black narrative.
Embedded in a dead landscape,
The stone monument stands,
Piercing the stony earth, but not of it,
Ancient, smooth and pitch black,
A tall shard reaching for the stars,
It is said to vibrate on touch,
And to have driven men insane with whispers,
Its northern, sun-facing side is featureless,
However, the southern side is cast in shadow,
This cold stone face features ancient carvings,
Of an unknown, unearthly language,
Some say it pays homage to an entity,
One of unknown cosmic origin,
Who will rise from the earth when summoned,
And lay waste to the land,
Until then, it slumbers beneath the southern sands.
Far beyond the dying waves that make landfall,
Within the dark depths of unseen mystery,
A watcher in the water observes mankind,
With deathlike white eyes, unmoved, but all-seeing,
An ancient enigma waiting below the surface,
Formerly of cosmic residence, now held in a watery cell,
The watcher enters dreams, accumulating secrets,
Existing beneath the dark waves for aeons,
Ready to arise when summoned,
To spread madness and doom upon the earth.
The threat is invisible, silent, and constant,
There is no escape, no running, and nowhere to hide,
The signal permeates every system, every cell,
It’s a new technological pandemic
The killer is digital and already within you.
Nobody can disconnect, and very soon,
All existence will be erased.
Some nights pass quicker than others,
When, with some urgency, I awaken early,
Only to sit in the dim silence of the house,
Where I focus on the light of a new day,
Until the nightmares echo into numb silence.
Thoughts Intrusive – is a new artwork, it falls into a category of my work I call Dreamscapes.
I revisit this dream world periodically, and since I’ve hit pause on social media, I have made this website the primary access point to all of my work, and I feel pretty positive about the change. So from now on, my digital artwork will occasionally creep onto this page.
Covert as a crow at midnight,
My anxiety builds within,
An unwelcome guest with no invite,
A creeping feeling now settled in,
It only takes a carefree thought,
Cast in the wrong direction,
To awaken the monster that I have wrought,
From my mind I have no protection,
Its first blow fells me with a body shot,
And then it then likes to take its time,
Then it twists my stomach into a knot,
And that’s when it’s showtime,
My mind performs its pantomime,
Where I cry, and shake, and can’t think straight,
My thoughts explode working overtime,
Making narratives to feed my frantic state,
I take the drug to calm the thoughts,
That tell me that I’m going to die,
At the hands of this enemy that I have fought,
Since I was just a child,
Eventually the wave breaks upon the beach,
Where I’m washed up broken and tired,
Afraid to close my eyes at night and sleep,
Fearing the monster I have inside.
I had a dream,
The image stuck with me,
For weeks now I’ve drawn it,
I close my eyes, and I see it,
I don’t know what it means,
I don’t know what it is,
But it is relevant somehow,
And my mind won’t let it go.
The early morning mist dances in swirls,
As a weary dreamer’s legs cross a cold open field,
The dead grey grass beneath the white blanket is sodden,
The landscape is flat, barren and desolate,
The grey cloudy sky seamlessly melts into the ground,
Whispers on the cold gentle breeze meet curious ears,
In the distance, the black skeleton of a lone dead tree calls,
Its contrast pierces the grey landscape, like a thorn in the skin,
Its obtrusive appearance is the only visible feature,
Each gnarled branch features a wide staring eye,
All of which slowly turn to focus on the approaching walker,
A thick twisted black trunk boasts a large gaping mouth,
As though silently screaming, through jutting rotted teeth,
A long black tongue slowly unfurls upon the surrounding mud,
Inviting the walker to enter the exposed mouth hollow,
Gelatinous grey liquid squishes beneath bare feet,
Each step towards the opening, sees the tongue rise,
Lapping at the walkers back, encouraging them forward,
Once inside the cavity, the mouth snaps shut, sealing them in dim light,
The dreamer begins to descend, sliding down a dark wet throat,
Tree roots and mud line the dripping filthy tunnel,
The speed of descent increases before the tunnel drops away,
As they freefall into a black abyss, their fearful screams echo,
Before they wake in their bed, sudden and confused, heart beating,
With the smell of putrid burning wood filling their nostrils.
Xylophilous (pronounced zy-LOF-uh-luhs) an adjective meaning, growing or living in or on wood. The term is commonly used to describe fungi, insects, and other organisms that are attracted to and thrive in wooden environments.
Stirring from sleep with a jolt,
The heart beating furiously,
The pulse pumping,
A gaze wide and confused,
Covered in cold sweat,
Things unseen move in shadow,
Inner depths cause silent screams,
No way out, there’s no way out,
Lost in dreams of death and black seas,
What secrets do closed eyes see,
More, than woken minds conceive.
Dan Verkys 