Masked
We are all sinners,
?Marked by quiet guilts
?We tuck beneath our ribs.?
The only difference is?
How sweetly we excuse ourselves?
While pointing trembling fingers
?At another broken soul.
We polish our halos,?
Pretend they gleam,?
Pretend we are untouched—
?Yet deep inside,?
A devil paces in the dark,
?A creature we refuse to name.
We call ourselves flawless?
Only because we lack the courage?
To kneel before our own truth.?
The light we claim to carry?Never reaches every corner—
?Some rooms stay locked,?
Dusty with silence,
?Heavy with the stench of what we hide.
And maybe it’s fear—
?Fear of the shadow lurking within,?
Fear of the chaos it could wake,?
Fear that one slip,?
One crack in our mask,?
Would let the darkness spill
?Until it drowns the last good in us.
What if it grows stronger??
What if we become the monster?
We only whispered about?
?What if one day?We cannot bear
?To look our reflection in the eye?
masked marauder oozed into the night
hoping he and his shadow remained out of sight
he did not appreciate crowds, or one person even
he was a one-wolf, a shy guy, an introvert, Steven
Someone was looking, so he slid under a bush
To get him back out would have taken a giant push
He lay their prone most of the day
Until nightfall, he decided to stay
He was frightened by people, this scary looking dude
you’ll find someone you like some day, his mother said
but the masked marauder was frankly, not in the mood.
uncomfortable around humans, including the undead.
The grandfather clock
struck nine as the silver
platters were finally
uncovered.
Instead of the roasted duck,
a severed hand rested on the
bed of rosemary.
Before anyone could
scream, the mansion's
heavy oak doors automatically
locked.
The lights flickered out,
plunging the grand dining
room into pitch blackness.
A wet, heavy thud echoed
as the host collapsed onto
the mahogany table.
When the candles were relit,
a towering figure stood
holding a carving knife.
A porcelain mask reflected
the frantic, tearful faces of
the remaining guests.
One by one, the crimson
wine on the tablecloth was
replaced by a darker red.
Breath was held beneath the
long drapes as heavy boots
approached slowly.
The figure stepped over the
furniture, whispering that
dessert was about to be served.
I can see the dense,quiet crowd of green
Spreading across the Woods
Lively and glistening
Standing tall and swaying
With centuries of secrets within
I was dragged deeper into the dark
Without knowing what my soul seeks
Completely lost in the lap of nature
Perhaps to comprehend the secrets masked
Though seemed real,it was all,just a dream!!
Sponsored By: Nette Onclaud
Contest title: Poetic Reply Poetry Contest
Date: 03/06/2026
wizards and witches whistled in the trees
owls and bats were hidden in their places
Halloween night, there was a gentle breeze
frisky cats were hunting for mouse traces
Dracula was shaking Frankenstein’s toe
A coffin lid creaked open from next door
Get up! He yelped. It is past time to go!
large mummy headed toward the crypt’s front door
werewolf in the distant was howling strong
monster mash was beginning in a few
soothsayer in the forest rang a gong
lots of white ghosts; I counted twenty-two
we danced around the masked children of course
I went as the back of a sturdy horse
He paints a face for all to see,
Of grace and high morality.
He scolds the world for every sin,
While hiding all the rot within.
He loves the mask, he loves the lie ,
Until the mirror catches his eye.
It churns the pit of my stomach
that monsters who used to hide in caves
are now standing on the world stage
as ruling elites
preaching right and wrong to our faces
while they chew on the flesh of our children
and turn them into their playthings
in the darkest hour of hell.
Monsters that used to hide in caves
are the faces of masked morality…
and we’re still pretending not to see.
Renee Nicole Good,
poet, writer, mother of three.
A domestic terrorist.
She had it coming to her!
Stuffed animals in her glove compartment,
the family dog in the backseat.
Renee Nicole Good,
Loving, forgiving, and affectionate.
She had a whistle strung around her neck,
They came for her with guns.
Roving gangs of masked Gestapo.
Renee Nicole Good,
A domestic terrorist.
They shot her three times in the face.
She had it coming to her!
This spring of compassion and kindness.
Renee Nicole Good,
exuding Christmas everywhere,
pure love, pure joy, a star-studded night.
A domestic terrorist.
She had it coming to her!
They murdered her with impunity.
Renee Nicole Good.
Somewhere, she probably sees them and forgives.
And yet, they failed to kill her.
They cannot extinguish her.
Her vital principle still grows and spreads.
Her quintessence will not die.
Accepted for Publication: The Opiate Magazine -Spring Issue
CONCEPT...FLOW....PROSODY.....
these are sequencailly sound!
Wishing aint gonna make it happen
it's best to stop whinnin and complaining
tuuf it out if you goota
when life puts you through changes
we gots to togther
sorting out the foolishness
from the good stuff
got to be more reliable
to get through this situation
it aint easy thinkin up something
when there aint that musch to say
what seriuos to me is a joke to you
sems you like it that way
toddle up and get ther
do your best to keep it right
we gonna be together
just let me make it throught the night
pucker up and kiss me
Sweet lady let me be your man
concepts flowing groovin together
pouring out like a soda can
swig aint that nasty
it sweter then the honey from the bee's
cold to cold today and tommorow
just keep me off my knee's
In twilight halls, I wander, lost amidst the masquerade,
A lone soul unmasked, amidst a sea of painted shades.
They don their facades, a suffocating uniformity,
While I, a chameleon, harbor multitudes, a chaotic symphony.
My essence shifts, a mercurial tide,
Humble servant, raging beast, side by side.
Through labyrinthine corridors, I weave and stray,
A stranger in each room, yet belonging nowhere, lost in gray.
Then, I beheld her – a fleeting glimpse of truth,
A visage unadorned, a moment's vulnerable youth.
My heart, a traitor, whispered sweet deceit,
"This is the one, the soulmate, the key to my crumbling seat."
But hers was a beauty, veiled, invisible to the eye,
A masterpiece of malice, hidden beneath a saintly guise.
She struck, a viper's kiss, a whispered promise of despair,
And I, a willing captive, still believed in love's sweet air.
The arrow's fiery tip, a burning, searing pain,
I smiled, a final taunt, as darkness closed, a suffocating rain.
In death's threshold, I saw her, transfigured, revealed,
The angel of my demise, Masked Malice, my heart's fatal yield.
I'm in a room where everyone is pouting on a Mask but I don't fit in because I'm not covering myself with one so everyone hates me for being real what they don't know is that the are too many different spirits in me. A personalty is constantly shifting. I'm the most Hamble but acts differently the next minute. As I move round, in and out of different rooms with each having masked faces i stumbled across one with out a Mask and I thought I found the one a soul mate just didn't know she was my cell mate she wore a the most perfect mask that you can't see with your naked eyes she was the Masked malice by the time I found out it was to late cos she had already stabed me in the back the moment I turned she had a bow with an arrow on fire pointing straight to my heart . It's funny cos I still thought she was playing even after the stabe in the back I still felt her now she has an arrow pointing at my heart but I smile and made the wrong move that is when the arrow pissed through the heart. At the moment of death i saw that angel I feel in love with but that was just a glimpse with the eye of death i saw through her and realised it was just Masked malice that I feel into
Artist Verious
----------------------------
Fluttering Tougne
Concerto, Concerto, Concerto
Me buscas para ser tu
quieres mi amor
pero estás en
el camino
ya no me recuerdas
la soledad
es un asunto triste
no puedo esperar
a estar
contigo
de nuevo
Anata wa watashi o anata no mono ni ai to watashi no ai o motomete iru demo anata wa tabi ni dete iru mo watashi no koto o oboeteinai no? Kodoku wa kanashi mono mata anata to issho ni i rareru no ga machikirenai
í, día de gira
no teníamos miedo
ahora necesitamos tiempo
para escapar
mientras nos dejamos llevar por nuestros
recuerdos
de odas a la alegría y las lágrimas
degustando vinos preciados
de nuestros primeros años
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in this
dystopic
nation
masked thugs
tear
babies
from their mothers' arms
raking them
off the streets
disappearing
inheritors of the kingdom
you who believe
in the ever-after
there will be
a time after
when evil visits the evil
payday
isn't always Friday
I can't wait to
write a poem then
a poke in your
blind eye
3 masked men
Sun at their backs burning heavy, bright
As silhouette turns to figure,
A striking image displaying only death
3 masked men
Sea born breeze blowing, a single tear
Was there a message?
3 masked men exclaiming silently.
3 masked men
Drawing ever closer
Fields drag with anticipation
Closer the men draw
3 masked men
Arriving with gifts from a recent history
Belongings sharing horrific memories
These have seen battle
3 masked men
Departing saying nothing
Speaking thousands of words
Honor the souls that live in these vessels
No more men
All stands still
Women weep for their loss
Children missing memories soon to be
No more men
Blood soaked ornaments
One lost
Many lost
3 masked men
Sunsets sweet memory
Maybe I should put my mask back on,
Squeeze back in my mold.
I’m too loud, too colorful, too different;
At least that's what I’m told.
I tried so hard to blend into the crowd,
Whispered when I wanted to scream out loud.
But the mask is heavy, the mold too tight,
And shrinking myself doesn't feel right.
So maybe I’ll break the mold apart,
Peel back the mask and show my heart.
Maybe I’ll be loud, and maybe I’ll shine,
Because this life, this soul, is mine.
They may call me too much, too bright, too rough,
But I’d rather be too much than not enough.
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