Horror. Poems

Enigma

Enigma

He who has no name lies waiting in the echos
Of my mind waiting for slumber

He invades my dreams like a dog shaking a rat
Tormenting me until the dawn slips back into darkness 

Daylight keeps this vampire at bay though I feel his
Presence following me in the shadow

Seldom a day goes by when I dont hear

The Golden Ball

A croaking echo, dark and deep,
A princess shivers in her sleep.
She lost her golden ball of light,
To a monstrous, endless night.

The moon hangs, a violet stain,
As the bog begins to rain.
A frog, with skin of slimy green,
Leaps from a shadow, rarely seen.

"I'll find your ball," it rasps and sighs, 
with golden flecks within its eyes.
But

SARDONCA

Surviving the waves of pain,
   Loss of three children that she gained.
   Flowing into a pit of despair.
   Home burned.
   Taken away.
   Raped until her uterus faded one day.
   Left starving on a lost shore.
   No hope anymore.
   Hair

Years of Horror

I can't help but wonder if we could even fix it anymore.
 
I don't know if I could ever forget crying there on the floor.

And I can't help but feel that all our future has in store,
 
Is years, and years, and years of horror.

Demon of Witches Tower

An ominous water tower
Stands tall in Starin Park
Barricaded by a spiked fence
Iron clads the stained-glass windows
A steel door bolted shut
What secrets lie within its walls?

On the night of a blood moon
Witches shrouded in crimson robes
Conducted a satanic ritual
To call forth a demon from hell.
The ceremony was a success, but at a cost.
Hellborn claws slew the

Grim

I am not certain sea
is always deep,
no-matter its depth -- 

As professed love is sometimes
only speech rehearsed, well prepped.
And the sun, though illustriously
shines, can be blind, victim of 
self undulating light -- 
               as all
stars, in time, blink out~ sliced from

Empty Mirror

It returned at night, 
with fangs out and mouth open.
A fierce need to feed,
camoflauged by a tame face. 
Mind every empty mirror.

USA Green Card

They told you America is Heaven—
and you believed,
as though Paradise were sold on paper,
as though salvation were stamped in ink.
But I tell you: a lie repeated
is more dangerous than a sword.

The Green Card—
a talisman of the desperate,
a relic worshiped by those
who cannot see the rot beneath the marble.
More than seven hundred thousand sleep on its

Who I Am Again

A bunch of entrails. 
I like strawberry milk in a cute bottle. 
I was one or many more of those things. 
Empty as a shipping container. 

A butternut squash which I only eat in the fall. 
Only knowing fall things. 
Fall hair, and breath. 
Nothing will be endless again. 

A bunch of entrails. 
It’s not

Silhouette of a Stranger

The bloody stranger stank of rank grass and
Animal grime and strutted unnoticed on
Our threshold on a long, misty night.

Lightning, unaccompanied by rain,
Exposed his grisly image,
Comprehended quickly by the village griot,
A humepenthe with seeing eyes, though blind,
Who could smell danger even from long-dug holes of
Doss-houses from distant caverns.

A common, vile dictator is abroad tonight!

Democracy Crackers

Pierced-ear Despot's Con
Eve O' dent'd Null-Lux-Stars
Judes' Counter-Strike Rage




_____
Notes:



When The River Fails

credit the stone
that shapes your name




When The Mountains Flee

stagger the gold
that drowns the sea




At Close

disembark as the dust
into dark




O' Chastened Earth
MAY YOUR COUNTER-STRIKE RAGE

Prisoner Of Depression

There’s a feel of heaviness around me
Weighing down my body and mind 
Restlessness consumes my very existence 
With this cloak of despair I can’t unbind

What brings this downfall upon me
What is the purpose of this misery
Other than imprisoning me in my life 
The reasoning for all this is still a mystery 

My life has been

Naive Faith

Claustrophobic, saturated white walls constrict,
sucking the oxygen from every molecule of deprived blood.
Hypoxic cells circulate through an increasingly unstable body,
whilst rivulets of sweat flow from clammy palms.

Insomniac reality blurs with insidious shadows,
dancing upon the ceiling.
Naive faith keeps insanity just at bay,
but with each sunrise, hope is chipped away.

How much longer can a soul survive without

Awaken Screaming

     confusion slips into our beds
        games the minds of gentle heads

     twists familiars to never-beens
        personas dark mask every scene

     far away from hearth and home
  

Nature of The Beast

In the dark and stormy night, a predator lies in wait.
A grave in sight, no need to fight, 
he's here to seal your fate. Winter has come,
your time here is done, no time for you to run,
the time for that is already too late.
With icy breath that smells of death,
he knows just what you do,

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