Spasmed Poems | Examples

Real-Life Demogorgons

 

Life felt like Hawkins—

quiet streets hiding screaming sirens.

Mind Flayers weren’t fiction anymore;

they learned my name.

 

I was lost like Will,

vanished between breaths,

woke up shivering

in an Upside Down crib—

air thin, walls breathing fear.

 

I walked on jagged glass,

barefoot in my own thoughts.

Locked inside my skull,

my body spasmed with truths unsaid.

My mind—flayed

not by monsters,

but by my own sins.

 

Arggh!

I wanted out.

The Demogorgon loomed—

faceless, black, relentless.

Should I speak this pain aloud,

or bury my life

in a pit of silence?

 

No—

I heard footsteps of the other me,

the one who survived.

Friends became flickering lights,

stringing hope through the dark,

showing me a path I couldn’t see alone.

 

I was found—

not dead,

but drowning

in endless shadows,

Eaten by real-life Demogorgons

with familiar faces:

fear, shame, loneliness.

 

Yet here I stand—

scarred, shaking, breathing—

proof that monsters are real,

but so is salvation.

     My passion’s crashin’
        Enthusiasm spasmed  

     My heart’s no longer in it
        I’m pure counterfeit

     I’d rather be in jail
        Call it betrayal… 

     But they trot me out, their annual thrill 
       Wish I were ill ~ punxsutawney phil

In this woke world I’d soon be hung
If I had had your spiteful tongue
How ironic that its wagging
Only stopped when you were gagging

And as I tried to grab the shard
Of chicken bone that was stuck hard
I grappled with what I could grip
And when you flinched… I heard a rip

You spasmed like you’d just been stung
And left me with your severed tongue
My sense of humour must be black:
Your tongue is mounted on a plaque

I’ve kept it from my wife and kids
To keep my marriage off the skids
So they don’t know that though you’re dead
A bit of of you is in my shed

So there I sat; my hide of choice
And thought about your nagging voice
And when your tongue began to jiggle
I won’t pretend it made me giggle

It made a move like licking lips
And flicked a few saliva drips
It looked ’round with its probing tip
Then sensed me… and it gave me gyp

Plunged to terrain plagued, tasty female options 
Surge of adrenalin pulses choices unsuitable 
Piquant aroma pulls him closer, allure accosting
Sentient favours solacious flower so beautiful

Hurtled descent drops watchful onto hillock haze
Swayed seed laden willow heads have halos
Hedonistic impulse picks silken stems with craze
Seraphim surround a torn aura in dewy daos 

Preordained mistake palates spasmed heartbeat
Shrews drawn to Stu allude to transformation 
Prurient dripping pores warble wanton indiscreet
Strident serpentines permit desire incubation

Heathen has escape, wrapped parachute harness 
Preparing his tortured innards for due launch
Hazards bring unbridled enthusiasm for newness
Pride hides a tarnished ego, attempts reforge 





11th February 

Whenever waking, 
Lady tailor making

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