A white tear bled from the foil seam,
a cold, lactic rot sliding down her woven leather heel,
drawing a pale, sour map across her instep.
I watched the porcelain skin of her shoe drink the milk,
and in that quiet curdling, my entire small frame snapped.
A choir of jagged iron shrieked beneath my skull,
tearing through the bone and behind my eyes:
a ruined child deserves no sun.
I did not wait for any reflex.
I dragged myself by the throat,
spat curses into my own ears,
and ran.
I bolted past the garden gate,
past the tall, unbothered grass,
my bare feet slapping the dirt in a rhythm of
self - contempt and fault.
In the damp dark behind the compost heap,
I pressed my face into the stinging nettles,
scraping my knees against the jagged limestone,
offering my own raw, bleeding shins to the air
to pay the debt for what I had done
praying the earth would swallow the wretched thing I was.
As the battalion races into battle
You can hear a Saber rattle
But as we charge with guns a blazing loud
He can be seen, leading the crowd
A Ghost on horseback brilliant white
In his suit of armor a scary sight
No one can believe their eyes it seems
He should only be seen in blood curdling dreams
But to us he is as real, as we are
Like us has traveled very far
Not in miles, but in time
Like a hero in a nursery rhyme
As we charge on and vanquish our foe
A thousand soldiers all in a row
He leads by example from the front
The cannon fire, he bears the brunt
Can the enemy see him we all think?
Or is it only us, and a curse of the drink
Imaginary or real boldly we wonder
We frightened soldiers in a politicians blunder
As the battle rages, he disappears as quickly as he came
And none of us even knew his name
The woman hadn’t slept for days.
Blood-curdling screams
Crawling from under the door,
Lurking down the stairs,
Seeping into her eardrums,
Turning her stomach
At the mere thought
Of her baby in distress.
She made her way
To the nursery.
Just as the tips of her fingers
Grasped the cold shock
Of the doorknob,
A silence fell.
The woman opened the door.
A draft of icy air
Sending shivers through her skin,
Only to be swallowed
By the frozen emptiness
The nursery had wrapped around her.
The silence lingered
As she approached the crib,
Only to be broken
By the creaking of the mobile.
She reached
For her bundle of joy,
Laying peacefully in its slumber,
But her arms sank
As the blanket collapsed;
She cradled her sorrows instead.
Old Rumple Stein gathered
the trembling children near
the frosted manor windows
as the full moon rose.
"Listen closely to the
snapping of the twigs out in
the dark estate," he whispered
slyly.
A cursed beast with matted
black fur and jagged yellow
fangs wanders these empty
hallways.
Its long, razor- sharp claws
scrape against the bedroom
doors with a terrible SCREEECH.
You will hear its heavy, wet
breathing right outside your
room before the doorknob
slowly turns.
It hunts the moment the sun
goes down, sniffing the air
for your terror.
The creature let's out a blood-
curdling howl that shakes the
very dust from the ceiling.
Golden, glowing eyes peer
through the keyhole,
watching you hide beneath
your thin blankets.
If it catches your scent, its
drooling jaws open wide to
swallow you whole.
"Do not dare to close your
eyes tonight," Rumple
snickered, "for the werewolf is inside."
I want to hear the possums screeching
Coming from the trees.
Their noise starts out as scratchy,
Then a terrifying scream.
The curdling of the blood they cause
Can send sane people fleeing.
The cold murderer in the bush
Is who they are seeing.
I know a possum when I hear it,
Trying not to panic.
I need to run now. Get away!
Or things could end up tragic.
Beware the entrance to the hypogeum,
unless you want a visit with this lich.
Better me than a breath from a ghast,
blood-curdling is the last thing you hear.
Unless you want to visit with this lich,
walk quickly save your passing glance.
There is only bone sputum here, beware.
Better me than a breath from a ghast,
I am the one who will give you a riddle.
Catacomb inhabitants are bored, beware.
Blood-curdling is the last thing you hear,
ignore that loud undercurrent of curiosity.
There is only bone sputum here, beware.
Focusing on my self; no other
filtered out all negative feelings
cut ties with deceptive dealings
home is calling so don't bother
Feeling things that make no sense
a little of revenge, guilt, anger, fuss
a lot of love, faith, truth, and trust
Thinking of things conjuring defense
Eliminate thoughts of all others
took for granted with misjudgment
challenging my truth with argument
now stuck in shame that smothers
No allies in this deceptive outer world
most live for bribes lies no alibis
all I truly hear is loud curdling cries
devastated by the truth, only can hurl
Let this be a lesson to trust only self
trust your own feeling and knowing
forgiveness and healing for growing
always room to help improve oneself
Not understanding my role in your life
no longer needed spoken or explained
hate jealousy greed no longer retained
dismantling what The Divine calls strife
Completes my assignments with grace
highs lows many death and rebirth
bring back LOVE to beautiful Earth
LOVE is home there's no other place
This, is where it began
A scream
Blood curdling
An amalgamation of acid and iron
Coagulates my blood
Mother
Instinct seizes
Heart racing
Legs race faster
Thoughts race out of hand
A gun to her head?
No time for weapons
Fists will do
Around the corner
My eyes catch glimpse
five golden corners
two solemn eyes
Mother
One word resounds
From shrieking lips
No
Over and over
Over
And
Over
That word
His badge
Her sobs
His gaze
Say one shrilling word
Her lover
My father
My father
Gone
On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my enemy gave to me
Twelve upset tummies gurgling
Eleven spoiled milk cartons curdling
Ten missed opportunities to achieve
Nine judges who refused my reprieve
Eight frustrations and barriers
Seven Covid-19 carriers
Six casseroles with a bad smell
Five empty packs of Pall Mall
Four creepy sashes
Three worn out lashes
Two cobras who attacked me,
And a grizzly bear in a honey tree.
A haunting comes unexpected,
perhaps that’s the delicious draw;
Strolling the woods with a guffaw,
nature’s buzz leaves you elated;
Every sense may seem upended,
red bared skin on your wrist is raw;
A haunting comes;
Your pulse has become upgraded
put into pace by a chainsaw;
The blood curdling scream’s first law:
‘Leave all their calm devastated.’
A haunting comes.
curdling gardenias
milky whiteness tinged yellow
scent lingers
It simmers. This constant invisible, hovering
like a wasp in the forever periphery threatening
lightning strike yellows, sudden and unbidden. It spills
and spools, down into black stripes melting and melding
to pools of what could be oil, what could be memory.
What could be regret now slick with – what?
A splash of anger boiled, with sprinkles of blame out of date;
mixed with grief curdling, poured into a well of questions
overcooked yet left raw, still somehow
roasted and burnt-snap-toast /
ed too tough for even a
crouton of relief.
It’s a recipe I can never master. Ingredients
lacking, my baking tray left to crust.
‘The Chronic Pain’ special.
'The Looping Blame Game’ starter.
“Welcome to Self-Sabotage Restaurant and its
rotating menu of dishes which you serve yourself.”
A Step Away
Blood-curdling
screams reverberate
in Spanish
bullrings where
death awaits a step away,
“Olé!” Spectators yell.
Party invitations popped up in everyone’s hand.
The Wizard invited everyone special in the land.
With magic galore, it was destined to be grand.
He made sure good fairies and elves were banned.
To respond they were invited to RSVP The Wizard.
On the menu would be yummy fricassee of gizzard.
And a huge bowl of sautéed toad eyes with lizard.
The host planned it was held on a night of a blizzard.
All in readiness as the guests were arriving first.
Were offered blood cocktails to quench their thirst.
Little did they know the drinks were cursed.
Sit tight you haven’t as yet even heard the worst.
For entertainment a banshee wailed a blood curdling song.
Dracula danced with Medusa to slow songs all night long.
When he tried to bite her neck, her snakes came on strong.
Witches and goblins, ghosts and ghouls all shared a bong.
Pinning the tail on the donkey beware as the donkey kicks.
Not bobbing for apples in a barrel, these were live chicks.
There were ghastly horror movies playing, Taylor Swift flicks.
All had nightmares after the party the Wizard was up to his tricks.
The cowboys always won
The Indians always lost
I yearned to see a cowboy
with an arrow through his chest
But then I read a story 'bout
a cowboy who'd been scalped
Promised to myself, I said
Now I'd see a red man dead
Put on two toy store holsters
Courage blazing from their guns
Bagged me the bony remnants
Of a graveyard skeleton
Blood-curdling Scene ~
Happy Halloween!
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