the dark unknown waits
nothing moves, nothing speaks, yet
my heart pounds louder
not for what I fear may come
but for what may still brood there
a closed door whispers
more scary stories than truth
could ever reveal
imagination breeds ghosts
more heinous, when less is known
fear lurks in shadows
cast from vague, flimsy sources
never once revealed,
always the thing imagined
too dreadful to be real
The clock that once chimed
No longer recounting
The minutes and hours
Of the lives now left mounting
The bodies piled high
As they search for each soul
The sights all around
Should be taking the toll
The silence abates
As the footsteps move forwards
Searching each room
For those in the floorboards
Holding each breath
As they lay still and quiet
Hoping once more
Of escaping this riot
No place is Sacred
Nowhere left to turn
They huddle together
As they perish and burn
The end of the road
For those He's forsaken
Cling to His love
As if they're mistaken
The homes that they cherished
Now burn to the ground
Belongings forgotten
In this hell all around
Destruction abundant
The stench of despair
The lives now extinguished
Are ripe in the air
death screams echoing around me,
no peace here violence is all you will see.
come with the wish to be a hero,
who’s hero do you plan to be when you never see home again.
there are none here all thats here is zombies in the form of men.
why didn’t you stay at home with your wife,
think about it,
what you could of done with your life.
another roar from the bombs and bodies,
you want to be a hero but who will be yours.
there is no safety here you cant run and hide behind doors.
i know i cant make it out of this hell,
i'm trapped here i cant even make a deal with the devil because i've no soul left to sell.
(NB The character in this poem does not belong to any country but is generic.)
_______________________________________________________________
The sirens howl.
I can smell the fear
I sow in the city.
My super gun can tear
Through buildings
Where innocent people
Lie huddled in despair.
I do not gloat.
My heart is ice.
I have a job to do.
I feel all powerful
like a god.
I lie flat on the roof
High on a building.
The sun is high,
Scorching unrelenting,
blinding like a furnace
grilling sweat out of me.
Yet I lie still
And watch the streets
For the hated enemy.
He'll come.
He never learns.
He too thinks
he's like a god.
One of us may be dead tonight.
Or both!
Who knows who?
Far away I see the hill tops,
where eagles dare to fly.
Below the happy pastures,
the luscious grasses tall and fine.
Sheep graze, and women watch.
I feel the desires of old.
I wake to the present.
I know my job.
Who can beat me?
They will not see me,
Nor flee from me,
They'll die at my hand.
For I fight legitimacy.
Why must autumn take me back to the sunshine days of my love?
Love, non-existent now
Buried in the depths of the ground
like someone throws away broken pottery, our love has been trudged and treaded on
Why must autumn bring with it gusts of your musky smell?
The same fragrance that takes me back to your neck,
The fragrance I had willed myself to forget
Autumn was the month of decaying beauty
Of oranges and reds ,rusted browns
And now I cannot even look out the window
Without the biggest frown
Autumn now is nothing but the painful reminder of lost romances, of kites struck down before they got the chance to fly
Of blue birds, now buried under the soil
That once mastered the skies
Autumn is now nothing but the reminder of my wounds
That I hide under my blood red armour
Of pain and loneliness
Of soldiers dying all alone
And so, the little girl that loved when the trees started turning red
Has grown to dread the very sight of blood gushing out of her hand.
Every morning as I walk out my door,
I look down, cant even see the floor..
I know their there, even if I can't see
When I open the door, it sets them free..
Claws hiting me up and down my leg
Would do no to cry out or beg
Oh the horrors I face
That I was afraid was no disgrace
To the coffee pot I fought my way
This happens everyday
My eyes adjust to the light
I see two sets of eyes looking up at me in delight
Toothy smiles looking more like a grin
I knew right away there was no way I could win.
This is how my day does begin
House of horrors sits on a hill
you smell decay as you walk by;
‘No trespassing’ you should comply;
You may not want to get your fill
loud warning bells are not a drill;
Just one look inside? Please don’t try;
House of horrors;
Time and again there’s been a kill;
Boarded windows will amplify
the halo of the evil eye;
A scream has stolen your free will;
House of horrors.
We knelt beside her with all our sin,
with all our horrors hid deep within,
and yet she offered us a smile,
knowingly, lovingly, forgivingly.
Our lives she captured in her eyes,
all the wherefore's, what-fore's, whys,
all the half-truths, fibs, and lies,
all the ways we made her cry;
and yet she smiled when she passed on,
her tears were wisdom to carry on,
let light shine ever from her eyes
to guide us through our darkened lives.
. for public domain
On Youtube I learned
Of the
Carrington event
That has been
And will
Come once again
The problems It portends
to bring on
It's heals
brings a shudder
to some
Of my friends
And when mr. musk
Shot 49 rockets
By next day all
But 9 had bit dust
Consumed as
It were
By solar flares
Or at least
they would have
Us to trust
To have lived
In the green hills
Of Tennessee
With a hillbilly
there
On the land
Returning again to
Stone age
I really think I can
Live without
The tee wee
That serves to make the mind small
Yet I'd really
Miss the world wide web
That connects me to you all
I'm shivering, naked, I'm amidst bodies on a cart
All I remember is looking up awaiting the water
Entangled I am seeing grimaced pinked faces
And a solumn looking sky very close to tears
Now discarded, left, sensing a sweet acrid smell
Knowing the await, soon the others and I
Time passes as I drift in and out of reality
Then night falls, as I awaken to quieting sobs
Accents I hear, that I'd only ever heard in movies
Aghast gasps of witnessed horrors befall my ears
Crisp morning airs adorn my emaciated frame
Slowly my eyes open to a cacophony of cries
Gently I feel my skeletal existance being carried
Choked voices console as I blearily scan
A silent emptiness abounds, even chimney stacks
No more I see these ills, these evils, they!
[Gershon recently likened (tongue in cheek) my line
‘My lunch is you’ to some classic movie lines. This
inspired verse one.
Jan recently described a dental dilemma which inspired
me to add a few more verses.]
________________
It isn’t ‘To be or not to be’
And it isn’t ‘Not a drop for me’
My favourite line I’ve ever heard
Is from a film: fun but absurd
As said by a plant who just wants his tea
‘The guy sure looks like plant food to me’
The line is to Seymour who’s lacking in lovers
His true love is Audrey: but she is another’s
He’s been promised riches and romance so sweet
So long as he provides some fresh human meat
It’s how the plant grows so what could he do
That blood craving plant is called Audrey... two
Along comes a dentist who’s mind is askew
His hobby is making things painful for you
His girl is the girl of our hero’s desire
he treats her so bad as to raise Seymour’s ire
Who turns to the plant and he has to agree
‘The guy sure looks like plant food to me’
RUFUS
Fat boy Rufus takes a rooster to bed
"It's my natural alarm clock" he said
He woke late the next morning
Now Rufus is in mourning
Cos he rolled over and flattened him dead...
ARTHUR AND SUE
Two newlyweds Arthur and Sue
Were doing as young couples do
But then as their bed rocked
They became interlocked
And they stuck together like glue...
FRUITY FREDDIE
Fruity Freddie was in bed with wife Beth
Hanky panky he was hoping to get
He leant down to kiss
But gave it a miss
When he caught a whiff of her morning breath...
SOGGY JIM
Jim's bladder wasn't what it used to be
So before bed didn't drink any tea
He forgot one night
And woke with a fright
When he found himself afloat in his wee...
OLD JOHNNY
Eighty year old Johnny ran out of steam
Now at bedtime in his eyes there's a gleam
The doc gave him pills
That sorted his ills
Now his wedding tackle works like a dream...
Written 3rd January 2021
From Moonday to Sinday = A Week of Horrors
On Moonday the orb above turned red,
To awaken the famished dead.
We've beaten them back ever since,
And still, when I bash their skulls, I wince.
Duesday brought the settlement of all our hates
The weaker perished at the gates;
The strong forced all within their gifts.
Woundsday followed with storms of blood,
Nothing could stand against the flood
Of wickedness unfettered;
It's power to destroy could not be bettered.
On Thirstday we drank deep of every vice
Each depravity indulged at least twice.
Then we rested, numbed and barren,
While all around, the scent of carrion.
Fryday came: we set it all ablaze,
Moving along towards some final phase
Before the coming of some closing end
Chaos now our only friend.
On Shatterday we shook with fear of fear itself
Though there was no longer poverty nor wealth,
But mere equality of misery,
Spread far as ear could hear or eye could see.
And at last Sinday came,
When, properly accepting blame
We scant survivors lay down beneath an impassive sky
In weary hope that it might tell us Why.
The papers are full
of the
horrendous - quite probably racist
mass murders
After the horrors
we Americans
must try - try hard
to keep up our usual activities
Going to a baseball game
I felt a little worried
being a part of the crowd
on the ferry
Friday I plan to go to Sabbath services
our prayers are needed
in these dark days
Sporting events, thank goodness, will be played
as usual
We must not give in
to the forces of hate!
Pick up your pens, poets!
Denounce the divisive politics
which now plague out nation
We must stand together
to chase away
the dark clouds
which now ennvelop
our nation
I travel through the black holes in my head
Not a true kingdom beyond
the **** of daily patterns
How many lives wanted
created between fates
Oblivious to actuality
How much of reality lost!
Artifactual
A flow of blood that coats everything
All that history warning
and waking
An eye that opens never closes
Continuence is this violence of remember
Nothing can be touched let alone unraveled
My body cleansed of that dust that crowd at all
ones limits discovered
Escape plotted in the slow creeping carnage
of the everyday masquarade until one day
an entire generation will proclaim its own
vision
May our children bring forth the actuality
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