you wore the flickering room
like a robe, its shadows fitting
to your skin like mist
we were the wolf
and his lover the moon
we were claws and soft flesh
graveyards and midnights
and no matter how loud
outside witches were screaming
we made our own noises
danced our own waltzes
to the howls and the hand's
candlelight
Midnight Hauntings Of Old Man Turner's House
Daylight's silver fingers haunt the old home
Ghosts stay there haunting and at night they roam
So eerie when they together loud moan
And spill warm warm red blood on the blood stone
We as kids would not go there on a dare
In that evil place rest scariest scares
Rumor is Jack got caught when he fell down
Never seen again in our little town
Kenny went there and he came back a mute
Mike promise he would go and that ghost shoot
Nobody goes there neither boy or man
Adults now we laugh at all those old scary days
Would I go there now, I shall simply refuse say?
Robert J. Lindley, dark sonnet
Feb.13th, 1972
Note --
Years since my writing this and the old house has been torn down since the late 1980's..
I do wonder often, where those ghosts had to go?
Do you believe in ghosts. I've had friends that say they do because they
have actually seen them!
Haunting melodies rise cold,
swooping in,
entwining around the soul,
squeezing tight,
the heart's inner whole;
breathless breathing soft,
into whispered fears and fright,
just a melody traveling
in the darker shadowed light,
swirling, beneath the clouded moon of night;
stirred achings,
echoes that escape their confines,
repetitious venerations,
memories of time,
streams and rivers of the blanketed mind;
spectred semblance,
of an unseen presence
lonely familiar fears omnipresent
cast upon the waters,
in obsolescence;
let it flow, in and out,
life's evanescence
ghosts with hollow music,
melodic notes, giving in,
silent acquiescence.
The hauntings of a midnight sun
for struggles lost and battles won
White nights to fill the summer sky
the time for thought and asking why
The universe misunderstood
accepting what we think is good
As minuscule as we may be
it’s not impossible to see
The more I think I know is less
but from this thought I now digress
So I’ll recline, I can’t outrun
the hauntings of a midnight sun
Haunting
Daunthing and haughton
Demons dispelled, haunting
Horrifying awaiting lyrical all my soul within me
Demons spiritual ghouls
Delegating deep into the darkness seething
Haunting
3/30/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
These walls, crumbling through time.
seeing old metal beds, stained mattresses,
broken sinks and toilets, rusted old medical supplies and a vacant morgue.
I'm walking through a dark place where pain was inflicted,
on patients to non existing ailments.
Lobotomies, electroshock, meds that these doctors and nurses,
thought would cure such simple illnesses.
The flickering florescent lights above my head.
showing me graffiti on the surface,
seeing a place from the past runs,
chills down my spine.
Thinking of the people who felt lost,
hurt, and neglected.
How they were mistreated or discarded.
To still hear the moans and groans echo through the halls.
The suicides', the padded rooms and the unmarked graves,
bring sorrow to my heart.
Those past years of being treated as nothing but as test dummies.
Those old stories of the survivors as they remember their time here.
As if they lived through the pain just yesterday.
Now the hospitals lay empty.
As the ghosts of victims still haunt these halls.
I will visit them one day and explore through these deserted rooms.
In the shadows, we watch.
As you live on your life.
You think this home is only for you,
but we are always behind you.
Up in the attic, down in the basement.
We taunt you, tease you.
Make you our prey.
Draining you of your energy.
We play among your halls,
and speak to give you a scare.
You are worried knowing you live alone.
Yet you know you are not on your own.
Your heart rate rises when you smell us.
The chills make you shiver,
and the hairs stand on end.
You call out and demand to know who's there.
Knowing that only an empty space surrounds you.
Listen hard as we speak loudly,
"We're here!!"
Weakling,
why do you cry so late at night?
who harms you in your dreams?
I know something is bothering you,
but you refuse to tell me.
Darling,
What makes you think of murder?
Why do you wish to poison your fellows?
I'm sure there is a reason,
but I don't think spilling blood is the answer.
Tell me, please, Tell me.
Why do you wanna cause harm?
Why do you curse at the dead?
The nightmares are getting stronger,
and your will is losing all its power.
So wake up from the slaughter,
and breathe again.
I'm sure the pain will die out,
but only if you confront your demons.
Past memories
Trying to get back to you
Traveling through the time portals of your heart
Trying to create the damage
They know they can create
Burdening you
With their continuous weight
They creep into your bedroom at night
Crawl inside your head
Turn your dreams
Into nightmares instead
No those past memories
Turn themselves into past hauntings
That haunt and torture you here in the present
~5/16/2018
All the neon lights at sight
Wont fill the void in your bed
Im the void
All your marxisms stand corrected
The anarchists rejected
Will your sullen doctrines console you at nignt?
Weather the storms , joan
Cannot withstand solitude?
But The buendías can
Recall your faze , your pop culture phase
Modern artists , french new wave
Our youth was a maze
Albeit as not as bleak as our present
The Scandinavian weathercasts that daily swallow us
You were never a Hamlet , Orpheus
I was never an Eurydice ,
but rather an Ophelia
Hey nonny , nonny
I spread the flowers on my grave
They way i always did since birth
The sun also rises but im eclipsing
Elapsing
Collapsing
Help me ,Hemingway
Where do our saviors vanish
When we dont ask to be left be ?
Hauntings all around
I believe spirits are real
they're all around us.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Jan.10/2015
I'm watching Ghost Adventures.
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