What am I, a product of a mad man's obsession to play God?
A cross breed’s creature between medicine and science?
For the whole of my parts taken from convicts, and social rejects,
Sown together by skillful hands of a surgeon, with no feeling heart
For this his ultimate creation.
Life infused by heaven's fire storm from on high, did the lord God's
Finger tip's caress against the rocky castle side, electrifying the night
With the Almighty’s spark of existence, and so my mortal father
Screamed with passions conceit, and this was the very first words, I
The beast heard, from my creator's lips, it's a live, it's alive!!
What am I, not human nor monster, do I not possess a soul or spirit,
Do I not deserve the same rights, as those of humanity, but nay I
Am the mocked, and the shunned.
Locked behind an iron barred cage, in a cold dungeon’s bricked
Lined cradle, I'm left in isolation's holding cell, without
Human compassion's physical touch or empathy's mercy.
Yelling up ward’s towards a higher power's glory, I beg of him,
Pleading for redemption's reclamation, to free me from this
Torturous life I've been given,
Free me, heavenly father!!
But I am more than these lumped together human parts of
Refuges misbegotten, for I live, therefore I am, I am man
Not the beast.
This I discovered in my silences solitude, when my jailer
Gave me a special gift, a book such a simple object, yet
It so saved me from madness’ spell, in bold prints
Golden lettering I read the title, The Holy Bible.
In clarities flickering candle light by night did I so
Read, about how a spirit could lift above his mortal
Imprisonment, and soar amongst the angels.
Once I cursed the day of my own birth, but now
I realize to be alive is a great endowment, to be blessed
And rejoiced upon.
As I reach outwardly through these iron bars anew,
I feel the sun's rays for the first time, and know how
Precious a thing this really is, to experience its warmth
My father, never gave me a name other then it or the beast,
So I will take his, as mine own, behold so shall I be called
Made by the firey finger tip's of the lord God himself,
Shall ignorance flame by human kind destroy me?
But heaven's grace in the written word shall save
My immortal essence, and thus I will be restored
On a higher plane's existence, on a farther distant shore,
Considered a monster no more.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
A legend dwells in the polar biosphere of isolation,
In the frigid nomadic country of Siberia,
Within the forests of mighty Russia, this is the realm
Of the Manimal.
It waits in the night, lurking amongst the shadows
Of the mountains, hear its primeval screams,
Echoing through the deep valleys river bed, its
Soundings shock waves, causes an avalanche,
That slams against the rocky hillsides for miles around.
It is a warnings decree, dare not enter into this
Baron waste land of ice and snow, for it belongs
To the unseen, the beast.
Alone canvas tent does stand, as a
Testaments memorial, for nine brave souls,
Oh for their youthful hearts, whom believed
That they were bullet proof, do you remember
Those days, my friend.
Experienced hikers, natives to this harsh environment,
Prepared for calamity sake, except for the wild man,
The stalker whom followed behind them in the darkness.
Farther and farther, did these children of the remote go,
Into the forbidden zone of the unknown, hearing
In the distance braking branches, and low growling's
The Manimal awaits thee, step forward to greet him,
And shake the clawed hands of death itself,
Glimpse his primate fangs, dripping with drools
Anticipation, for a raw fleshes feast.
For this is a creature of instinctual desires, and you've
Entered into his hunting grounds, humanity is now
On the menu.
You've should have known better my young friends,
Are we not of higher intelligence, nay in this icy
Jungle of the Manimal, for here he rains supreme, the highest
Predator on the food chain.
Torn apart, and left buried alive, this is a truthful legend,
On why, mankind should leave his curiosity at home.
Nine went into the wild lands of Siberia,
And none came out alive.
Alone canvas tent does so stand, as a memorial
Unto them, in this frigid land of ice and snow,
In the Polar Biosphere of mighty Russia, as the
Echoing screams of the beast, called the Manimal,
Awaits amongst the mountains shadows, hungry for
His next meals encounter.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Dedicated to the nine brave.
Bitter by ; being mentally bruised and battered most of my life,
shaken with fright without a single soul to help me
through the troubles unseen horrors of the night,
from an evil source that I fear to strike.
But as the evil forces, who limited my choices
that when I found my stallion horses.
Swiftly it came to my head I can run and I cannot hide,
feeling the Beast closing in on every time I decide to hide.
Tired of running and tired of alluding this
relentless creep as my red bolt eyes weep
feeling rest-less, likes a lonely defeated warrior from his home in retreat
that is when I knew it time to rest, to release my Beast.
But in a fight, I may not win however as I cast out my dirty words sin
I made sure it felt my impact, to the bloody end.
by Keith Relf
It was a home on the river we lived .
It was the ghost of a young man whom had taken his own life.
I still remember the vision of him walking by me with a blank stare
We, as a Family of seven , moved into this river house
Panoramic views right out to the river , I should mention
I was home alone as a child , looking out at "The Julia Belle Swan " as she went by .
Upstairs in that room as I saw a figure walking by , with very nice features , auburn hair
I thought he was my older brother , a handsome young guy
Then I realized the young man was not my brother , a apparition he appeared .
He was not there to scare or frighten ,
the message I believe he wanted to shed light on, so clear.
He walked right by ,then disappeared through the window, out to the River .
The Ghost knew I could see him , a gift I have been given
when I was a younger child of five , I had once died for a short time. I was lifted by Jesus in Heaven . Death is not for us to decide .
Later in the years we moved from that home , every home we lived in had a story
or a presence of its own . My Mother had told me later , a young man took his life there .
Keep fighting your way through life and its despair ,
you are important to someone whom cares . If you feel alone and want life to end , Please pick up the phone , call anyone , call for help , call a Friend .
"This is not fiction , it truly is a gift I have been given "
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
It was a moment in time
a fate of inspiration gifted
I believe I was lifted a destiny in writing
I would vibrantly pursue .
Renting a cottage once in Monterey Bay
this cottage special in some way
The very minute moving.. I felt a presence
giving me no serenity , no rest
feeling I were a quest ~
After desiring this home so
telling the Realtor ~ I made a mistake
She told me be calm ~
many have said this before you
~ this haunt was not a new
For once lived a Writer ~well respected Gent
His cottage a distillery during the time of prohibition.
Many Gents and Ladies came to this cottage
unlawfully gamble & drink through the night
Who would think , Doc Ricketts in Cane & Hat
it was a party by moon light ~
In the back a distillery hidden in a old shed
many Alcoholics were fed ~
The ghost popular quite the Ladies man ~
I was honored while feeling displaced
For those who have not read my poems
~ and this may be new.
This really happened ~
The ghost of John Steinbach rented me his home True
Yvette & The ghost of John Steinbach's , Teamwork 9/14/2013
December 18, 2012
Beautiful lies known as little white lies
yet one is no more deceptive than each
The truth is what makes it afraid of light
It's important we practice what we preach
Imagination built on lies destroy
Imagination built on truth create
Conquering evil we try to avoid
Tooth fairy, Halloween, Santa abate
Perceptions and images make it real
Origins of Pagan rituals true
We've wandered down this path for a bum deal
Now more lies are created all brand new
The mask behind a beautiful white lie
is the truth with a constant shield, but why?
People of my realm,
the dragon realm
But with a Leme spot
The honor to the
His tongue fire and
For your fortune is
You shall let die
and be spared
No generation shall
come to pass
The earth realm, I
Another sweet dragon
shines all through
Unto you shall be my
I will then reward
with piercing mercy
Beware! Is the
goddess you serve?
A legend is told along the sea ports, of a lost island
Unknown to man, protected by a monstrous beast
In this uncharted prehistoric world, not shown on any
Schematic or map.
It is a forbidden place of death, accursed by the almighty
Himself, a dark garden of Eden, kept unspoiled by civilized man.
Guarded by a gigantic creature, whom dwells hidden behind
An ancient wall miles high, made of thatch and tar it rose upwards
To touch the sky above.
The natives screamed into the night, the name of their tormentor,
And God, Kong, Kong!!
Hear in the jungle the drums beat, these tribal people whom
Still live in a primeval world, respect this king of beast known as King Kong.
Within the realm of heightened terror, gray smoke rises as a mist,
But it is the breath of a beast, a forgotten giant, of long ago ages past.
A lone ship crosses the equators fine thin line, between reality and
And mythical legend, to explore the unknown regions beyond our knowledge.
Pull back the curtain; reveal fact from fiction, as this uncharted destination
Bursts forth before the eyes of the brave, and foolish adventurers.
Beauty's first glimpse into a darker place left her breathless,
Exposing nature's raw power and wild magnificence.
Greed drives the men aboard, seeking fortunes favor, by dollars and
But in bloods bottom line, what worth is human life?
In seduction's prime-evil arena, didn’t this mistress of temptation,
Slay the savage beast within desires eyes, most forbidden.
The damsel in hearts distress, climbs the tower of fates misled,
To save the concord foe, pleading with hands clapsed no Lord,
God Save him this creature of your creation, for he is innocent,
Reacting only by basic instincts drive to survive.
But the fallen king, crashes to a mightier kingdom below, called
She weeps beside his majesty’s broken body, as death over comes
The giant's will to live, but it is enough for him to see beauty's face, one
Last time before sucoming unto the blackened jungle of death beyond.
So a legend is given birth, and his name echoes through a lost world,
King Kong, the mighty king of all beasts.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Jane is that person to take the unknown path
Fear is her friend, she knows no other way
Friends and family warned of dangers grave
Told her not to go to the tower, twisting in the forest
A moonless, starless, black clouded night her only guide
She took young Billy with her as a shield
In hopes of engaging him with experience and fear
They climbed 2,000 dusty stairs when they arrived
Billy cried out but only for an hour
Fatigue set in, filled both with anxiety, along the winding way
Monstrous screams came from the unholy spirits top
Blood came flowing from their ears
Each step brought them colder to the ghoulish goal
Lost souls approached in demon forms
Pulled poor Jane and Billy up and out a window
Held them by the throat and screamed
We want to kill you now but that would serve no purpose
They placed chains around their necks
Gave orders to take brooms and mops
To clean the cursed chamber first before the drop
Created on 10/17/14 for Ghost Stories – Poetry Contest