Posts Tagged ‘Horror’

Beware that reef child,
It is a graveyard,
A hodgepodge of stony dragons teeth,
Full of great timber titans,
The sound of torn sails and creaking hulls,
And salt-wrapped spectres,

These wrecks are a diorama,
Skeletons still at their posts,
As if frozen in glass,
Awaiting orders that shall never come,
Sailors picked clean by the reef,
Feed for the crabs and fish,

It’s a morbid monument at sea,
Whorled in mist and deathly cries,
It harkens back to a past of seafaring,
Of piracy and exploration and glory,
A time now only whispered,
Upon dead men’s tongues.

Ahh yes,
That dank motel has many stories,
Each room a storybook of flesh,
A rogues gallery of sorts,
In a cloak of cigarette smoke,

This room here,
Contains a beggarly prodigy of paint,
A Picasso in poverty,

That room there,
It contains a young couple in love,
Fleeing a pair of oppressive households,

That room at the end,
The lady there killed her decorated husband,
For striking her one too many times,

The road has all kinds of refuse,
Much finds its way here,
Travellers and outcasts of all shades,
Drawn like moths to its neon sign,
A haven on these backroads,

A den to sleep in,
A hole to fade in.

Last night,
There were strange lights in the sky,
Creepy neon greens and oranges,
Comets raving as if sentient,
You remember it making your head hurt,

You wake up to eerie silence,
No birds chirping or distant lawnmowers,
Everything aches,
Your cat hisses as you pass,
The paperboy gawks way too long,

The street feels somehow off,
There are bizarre burnt spots on the lawns,
Your neighbour doesn’t know who you are,
Passers-by stare at your house as they walk,
Vacant expressions and wide eyes,

It’s your imagination you conclude,
An off day surely,
At least you think so,
But your spouse forgets your name,
Your children flinch at your presence.

Beware the darkest of nights,
When the moon hides,
The air grows heavy with the stink of formaldehyde,
And even the toms bite their tongues,
Be sure to stay under your duvet,
And close your curtains tight,
For the gangly man may be paying a visit,

A demon,
Or mayhap something fouler,
As tall as a house,
With legs like circus stilts,
And arms just as gaunt,
A bogeyman prowling the streets,
Awkwardly prancing between streetlamps,

In a patchwork suit,
He seems to stride in abject agony,
Creaking and moaning,
He has vipers for fingers,
Slithering along bedroom windows,
Peeking with many eyes,
Hungering with no maw,

Knock knock,
Knock knock at your window.

When they came,
Those sharks in uniform,
I climbed atop my household raft,
Fearing for my life,
They came bearing gifts,
Tokens of handcuffs and stingray barbs,

I see their blue skins and bluer lights,
Circling me,
Stalking me,
Smelling blood in the water,
The curtains are my shield,
With no oar I can only wield a house key,

They want me to give up,
To stop treading water,
They keep using big words like “surrender”,
Screaming “murderer” and “monster”,
But I see their barracuda teeth,
Truncheons and mace,

The front door caves in,
A flash,
The thrashing of water and 9mm rounds.

In a dozy West Virginian town,
An urban legend takes flight,
Holding dominion over a pleasant night sky,
Over highways and young couples,
It’s never in true focus,
A humanoid shape obscured,
Huge crimson lanterns for eyes,
And wings shimmering with prophecy,
Bird or moth or demon?
Nobody shall ever know,
Wings simply flutter,
And bridges fall.

I couldn’t say if it were real,
Or a dream,
But I found myself in a dollhouse,
Quaint but very off,
I fear no joy had touched this place,
The air reeked of uncertainty,
And cigarette butts,
Like some neglected dive,

The rooms had no essence of childish play,
Toy furniture covered in pale cloth,
Pink paint flaking off,
The floorboards seemed wet from tears,
Half-formed mannequins,
Cobwebs draped over like veils,
An array of barbie heads,
A miniature pushchair splattered in red,

Was I alone?
I couldn’t say for sure,
I felt wild eyes upon me,
Small figures dance in my periphery,
Skipping off into the aether,
A giggle,
My veins grow boreal,
Never had a child’s laugh chilled me so.

The planet suffers,
Cracking under human pressure,
Choking on human fumes,
Past generations inflicting coal bruises,
And ozone cigarette burns,
Unnaturally accelerating the stopwatch,

But the ones to suffer the repercussions,
In the decades to come,
The pessimistic youth,
Are the only ones to comprehend it,
Seeing the world without ruby goggles,
Knowing they are the ones to burn,

The elders are in denial I fear,
Or simply uncaring of what won’t harm them,
Children born now are not blessed,
But cruelly sentenced,
To being part of the pessimistic youth,
As the planet boils.

The day grows raspy,
And I ride atop my iron steed,
Pale in its sheen,
A frame wrenched from cemetery gates,
Wheels grinding through the ash,
Over dale and alpine,

You find yourself a spectator,
The sun creeps through my visor,
Highlighting my face,
You look aghast,
And see naught but a skull,
Grinning at the scene we play,

They tell of me,
Hushed tones and cupped hands,
I’m the goodbye man,
Once I’ve left,
Into the fog post-haste,
There isn’t anything but silence and grave dirt.

Humans are made of all sorts,
A host of exotic ingredients,
Sugar spice and some things not so nice,
Herbs and poisons,
Garlic and cyanide,
Ore and gemstones,
Don’t forget the dead flesh,

The recipe isn’t always followed,
Or perhaps one doesn’t exist,
No human is a carbon copy,
The ingredients act in flux,
The outcome always a coin toss,
Sometimes an angel emerges from the hearth,
Other times a devil.