John Martin

John Martin
Great Day of his Wrath

Monday, 20 December 2010


When the backbone is withered and dead, our oceanic heaven reduced to dry desolate plains.
We will scream at the broken city skyline...

“Why did we destroy that which sustained us and reject love?!”

... hearing only the echoes in answer, alone in our suffering.
Haunted by the myriad dreaming,
But not eternally for all is impermanence.

The place where the proud called their home is barren now, scorched not by their own passion but by our greed for their flame.

No gods could forgive such ignorant waste of potential, if they do exist then we are orphans left on the doorstep of the world.

A consequence allowed continuing out of spite.

Rise above this sea of banal filth to seek redemption, in the eyes of suffering no-one is exempt and all are equal.


Sea of grey washing over, rays piercing through.
Reminding us of sublime liberty squandered.
Meanwhile we build our ivory towers
Burning our bridges in solitary solidarity

Hoping for them to come home, again.

So empty and drained like ghosts
And what is left…When all is gone?
Just memories of them and what we loved and lost.

Forever shades of endless haze,
Broken dreams in concrete shades.
Nothing to lose.
Everything to gain.


"There’s the inner world which is a reflection of the outer world, and when you think of all the billions of worlds that are going on out there - we are connected with that, we’re not encouraged to think of our connection as why we are on this planet. Is our life just functional; is that all that is? Getting up, going to work, having kids, to just populate the planet? I mean there have to be reasons we do things..."