National Poetry Day

Happy National Poetry Day!

I haven’t posted any creative writing in a while, so in honour of today I’ve been digging through my personal archives and unearthed this short poetic verse I composed earlier this year. 

A flicker of flesh and a scorching flame

The burn of a fang piercing a vein

A hunchbacked gargoyle whispers my name

I bathe in blood that shower like rain

My eyes see well in the night but in daylight strain

All my pleasant thought, like blisters they drain

The pin prick of a needle is a heavenly pain

I search through shadows but surrender in vain

A lost little girl that shrieks like a train

These torturous detached voices drive me insane

By Tyler Turner


Poetry by Tyler Turner

I would reach into your festering wound, infecting it with fingers sticky with puss, just to harvest the maggots and free you from their wet sucking lips.

I would carve out my own blackening heart, let it dissolve on your cracked purple tongue and slide down your throat into your stagnant stomach acid.

I would tear off my finger nails and place them on your blistering palm so that your corpse could claw its way through its tomb of earth and worms.

I would grind your bones to dust just to keep the vultures from picking at the fragments of rotting muscle left to wither inside the corroding crevices.

By Tyler Turner

Awake Alone at Night – Tyler Turner

I wake with a start in the dead of night.

With my throat clawed raw and jaw locked in fright,

I fumble through the dark and reach for the light.

A foreign hand greets mine, though no one is in sight.


Rolling up my sleeve in search of the time,

I halt with a jolt as the grandfather clock emits a chime.

Then descending the stairs, a chill dances on my spine.

I pretend that the creaking follo behind is all in my mind.


Taps running; I douse my face with a cool shock of water.

My stomach knots like a cow’s prepared for slaughter.

Though my vision is blurred, in the mirror I caught her

Behind me, a blood-drained face all twisted and tortured.

Premature Decay

Fog distils itself over a death-laden field

Ethereal entities ascend in their armies.

A militia of lost hearts shroud the country-scape

Their fractured features frozen yet oddly unscathed.

Creeping, clawing, crying in their masses

Souls strewn out, neglected by the classes.

A haunted haven welcomes them home

While here they’re left to decay, to erode.

By Tyler Turner

Throwback Thursday Thrillers- Weeping Angels

The Mausoleum Scriptures’ Throwback Thursday special, written by a tiny ten year old Tyler Turner. Inspired by the weeping angels of Doctor Who and unedited (bar from the odd spelling correction) since it was written circa 2007. 

(Below – the original, unedited framed print with terrible spelling mistakes and misused words.)


Wretched souls trapped in bloodless stone.

Empty as a cold, lifeless room.

Emotionless eyes, stiff and still.

Paralysed by none blinking eyes.

Immortal since the dawn of time.

Noticed from every angle.

Gruesome things their powers do.


Absorbing people to the past.

Noiseless, but are heard loud and clear.

Grimy teeth, jagged and fierce.

Elegant, but deadly and scornful.

Lanky robes upon the colour-drained stone.

Sinister as your nightmare creatures.


By Tyler Turner

(Featured image taken from