Horror. Poems - Poems about Horror.

She was floating on the ceiling

We are soul first and body second, not the other way around, the body being the transport system for the soul.

Speaking to a nurse she explained to me the purpose of opening a window when somebody dies.

When my dad died, there was a shift in energy. The phones wouldn't work.

I felt a rumbling go through

Love of Horror

Love of Horror

When shadows lengthen, and the moon hangs low,
My heart beats fast, a thrilling, eager glow.
For whispers chilling, and for blood-red gleam,
I find my comfort in a waking dream.
The creaking floorboards, the unearthly wail,
A twisted plot, a terror-filled tale.
No gentle rom-com, no drama's soft embrace,
But monsters lurking, leaving not a trace.
From classic slashers to

Haiti, When Will the Chains End?

You bled, Haiti—
not from your sins,
but from theirs.

1994 they came, not to heal,
but to haunt.
To wrap democracy in boots,
and silence in oil-drenched contracts.

America—
not a land,
but a machinery of ruin.
You did not restore—
you erased.
You did not rebuild—
you ravaged.

You took a sacred island
and tore it from within.
In the name of liberty,
you planted despair.
In the name of order,
you

WHITE CARS

White Cars Haunt 
My dreams awake in wasteful
Flights fantastic blight
Each headlight flares 
Restless into the outer fields of memory 
The oppressive, hot, humid twilight
Passing out of my sight
They haunt my wakening eyes
Along the way, hollow roads of soul
Down endless maps of history 
The endless engines thumm
An echo old still lasts, sitting 
White cars are empty

Humans Fed to the Minotaur

There’s something in our entrails knows this dread.
You hear it scratching – that’s alarm enough.
That snorting half-suppressed, that flagstone scuffed,
a passing shadow of a massive head,
and we scent darkness, dark beyond the dead.
It hovers like Unreason. Does it know?
Canals of self-containment overflow,
like wits’ weak walls, at that approaching tread.
Our fingers, feeling for that flimsy thread,
Seem

Bzou

Tell me, Bzou dearest Bzou 
Have you found a treat for us today?
I am hungry for a heart,
for mine is dry and shrivelled.

    Grandmother dear grandmother
    Have I ever let you down?
    I have one on a tether
    and it is dressed in crimson

Israel's Share

Israel is the biggest evil producer in the whole world, fact.

Planche de Chair Cuite

She was not invited

She was arranged

They never wanted Jasmine 
not the woman who brought basil-clean hands
and pomegranate soap 
who harmonized soliloquies into pastries 
while they offered only 
hinges rusted shut

She was not guest

She was garnish

Not Jasmine the flower 
but Jasmine the bulb 
strangled in its own clay
frost biting at the marrow 
buried beneath their polite

Texture

The texture of those black out curtains,
a whistle that ruffles your hair.
Tickling all of your senses
with a shoulder massage. 
Tossing and turning 
rolling with the
cotton ghosts 
through the
night.

The Jungle Untamed

"Lost, in a fight for survival, a man refuses to succumb to a harsh wilderness."  - quote by poet.

    A great aerial adventure comes to 
A harrowing end for one man.
His hot air balloon malfunctions;
It comes crashing down in the middle 
        Of a

The medical gaslighting of a black woman

Is to be pushed to the brink of psychosis
And to then be labelled mentally unstable 
It is to ask for help and be met with the door 
Then when we worsen they blame us for waiting too long 
As if we didn't come when the wound was fresh
Not when it becomes a scar
Our pain silenced
But

Scars

Scars
and sunburn,
with their mark
a gruesome glow. 
You can taste that edge,
as the knife stabs your throat.
Cut pumpkins swallow the Sun,
now this final curtain is warmed.
Ostentatious heat clings, darkness waits
for that first bittersweet taste of autumn.

Horror Poem Number Two

The razor;
It slipped
Leading to 
Unexpected consequences.

The redness 
Splashed and spread,
Splashed and spread.

Be Me, I Dare You

A warning to possession.

To the demons chancing claim of skin: I dare you to take this body, and dare you to take this mind.

Better yet, I beg of you, to claim each for a ride.

Would you like to suffer reason? 
Suffer sound of self each second?
Or rather suffer thoughtless sense, 
Even you could not have

Horror Poem Number One

Driving down the black tongue
Of the desert highway
Mirages rise
Like pools of water on the highway
Reflecting even the sky beneath

 Suddenly, a darkness arises
A flatness on the pale horizon;
There is no time or purpose to slow down -
It rises, and engulphes the world 

We move into it
And it

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