David Peak – 1 poem



I want to live in a log cabin near a frozen lake filled with dead Nazis
Above the Arctic Circle, in the land of the midnight sun
In the land of ancient lords

I want to raise a family of wolves
Blood-thirsty and mange-ridden beasts
And eat the meat of my kills off the bone

In the mornings I’ll bathe in the sub-zero waters of the lake
And fight off zombie Nazis with my bare hands
And I won’t feel cold or scared
I’ll be strong as the grizzly bears whose mounted heads line the walls of my bedroom

At night I’ll roam the hillside with my family of wolves
And set traps to ward off trespassers, parasites, hippies

If I find you I’ll string you up by your ankles
I’ll string you up so you’ll be swinging from the trees, human suet
And you’ll die there swinging, a frozen skeleton
Ice man, a warning for everyone else to stay the fuck out

I’ll grow my beard to terminal length
And I’ll brush it 100 times every day and oil it with ambergris
I bottled myself after I killed a whale with my bare hands

I’ll wear a beard of ice and it will hide my face from you
And if you punch me my beard of ice will break every single bone in your hand
So broken they will never heal and you will never again be able
To write letters home to your family, you’ll be lost and alone forever

I’ll keep a collection of guns and battle axes and war hammers
And two-handed swords and I’ll keep them clean and sharp and shining
And I’ll kill anyone who finds me out there
In the woods, in the night, surrounded by my wolves

And half-frozen, fighting off zombie Nazis every morning
But more powerful than a two-handed sword forged by an iron golem
In the molten pit at the center of the earth

The kind of sword passed down through the lineage of ancient lords
Through centuries of wartime plague and famine

Don’t come looking for me because I’ll cut you
In half with a machine gun, I’ll saw you in half with bullet-spray
I’ll pull out all my teeth and feed them into the machinery
Of my machine gun and I’ll tear you apart

Ripped like the plate armor of fallen warriors
Men with names from myths and legends of ancient cultures
Long-ago destroyed by impossible battles
Names that go unspoken because they give village children nightmares

I’ll build a black church at the throat of the world
I’ll build a church out of the blackened bones of my enemies
And I’ll piss on the peasants who come to me to pray, drunk and naked on my throne
Shitting on orphans and raping their dead mothers

My body will be covered by the scars of war
I’ll wear your father’s ears on a necklace
The wounds inflicted by the blades of men who stood two-stories tall
The men who breathed fire and ash

The sons of arch demons and bald-headed witches
You’ll know it’s me when I come for you

When I march into battle my stride carries me over mountains
I’ve crushed the Carpathians with the jack boots
I stole off a dead Nazi’s corpse

When I march into battle my enemies sound trumpets
To announce my arrival

When I march into battle my enemies release their dogs
My enemies signal their archers and pray to their maimed gods
Because I’m a motherfucking war machine, the bringer of death
The black bird whose snake eyes haunt the nightmares of your children

Because I’m the terrible omen in the tea leaves at the bottom of your cup
You’ll never forget the shape of my mouth, the blackness of my eyes when I twist the knife
The way my breath feels hot in your ear as I whisper the last words you’ll ever hearThe way they sound trumpets for me when I march into battle

Do you know what those whispered words will be?
I’ll tell you now, because it doesn’t matter, you’re going to die no matter what you do
I’ll tell you

I’m the war machine, the bringer of death
Do you hear it? Do you hear that?
It’s the sound of the screaming skull knocking at your bedroom door
It’s the sound of heavy boots

Walking across a table bloodied by feast in the great hall of long-dead warriors



David Peak is the author of a book of poems, Surface Tension (BlazeVOX Books) and a book of short stories, Glowing in the Dark (Aqueous Books). His writing has been published in places like Lamination Colony, elimae, Kill Author, Monkeybicycle and Abjective.




About gobbet

gobbet is a literary magazine dedicated to publishing the very best experimental poetry and prose. Intellectual perversity and explorations of dark themes are positively encouraged. We are only interested in work that is progressively experimental. We want to see risks, and we want to see them pay. No previously published work. Prose should not be longer than 1000 words. There are always exceptions. Send 3-5 poems. Include a short bio. Send submissions to gobbetmag@hotmail.co.uk Work will be published every 5-10 days. We also intend to publish anthologies of selected work published in gobbet. We will do our best to reply promptly. Most submissions will receive a decision within a month.
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