Category Archives: Fear

Pie face

Don’t go out tonight, 
my little man.
Oh no, don’t.
Especial, not behind the broken barn
by the woodpile
under the crooked elm.
I seen him there last night
when I was takin’ a pee.
Buddy kilt ‘im.
Cooked ‘im up in a pie.
It’s he’s ghost, I tell ye.
Got lips so horble.
He’s eyes drippin’ blood.
He grab me,
says “Yer not the one”
“be bringin’ me the younger fer a bite”
“Oi wait tomorrer and then the night”
“If ye don’t come, then yer the one”
Don’t go out tonight,
little man.
I love ye so.

Finders keepers ***graphic***

In this year of China’s moon,
there ends a life too soon.

On the cliff’s outcropping I stand,
not yet daring the mile-down view.
I wait for the scene seekers to disperse,
then pin this sorry note to the grappling tree.

You see,
I cannot shake them.
Like brain bees they buzz.
Dark stories they tell, without end.

All help seemed too busy with life.

Now, I will walk backwards,
fixing on the air’s horizon,
leaving no room for second thought.

I will count the paces.
Ten, twenty, thirty.
I will wait for the surge of crazy strength.
I will run, arms wheeling,
and be gone.

Good person,
I hope to make the river,
winding in the sun’s silver,
to spare you the sight’s abomination:
my pile of jellied bones,
entrails of pastel,
abalone membranes.

If the punctured eyes contrive a stare,
it is not accusatory-
only a mirror
of a hell that slowly did go by.

Wake me up. Wake me up!

Ghostless spirits fast convening

Faces full of fearsome meaning

Fallen angels, minions of the One

Assembled is the shoreline throng

They’re moaning an unearthly song

In penance for the wrongs that they have done

And I, among them, poked and prodded

By the grinning ghouls applauded

The lake of fire is hotter than the Sun

On weakening knees we mouth our pleas

Our souls absorb a dark disease

The inner onslaught makes us want to run

And now, there is but no escape

They’re closing in, our Selves to rape

“The Fire, or by your necks be hung!”

In sway

I roll down the ghost road
in this time of quickening twilight,
uncaring of the mundane day.
A fifth part of me sober, in control,
but in the main,
I am swayed
by the lowness of the sundering clouds.
The cloistered scene.
There’s a strange sense of foreboding,
of a going down to the dark roots of guarded secrets,
unknowing all else.
This stays and presses,
saying settle, settle.
Though please,
I do not want to know you.
Nor you to know me.

Twenty… this dream of anxiousness.

I turn around to an unfamiliar sound.
My strange neighbor stands in my yard.
He has a hose, and sprays casually,
glancing furtively in my direction.
The water is warm.
He turns his back to me, then quickly comes around.
Spraying now a fan of fine white sand.
I run for a broom, a shovel, a hope.
i return to backyard dunes,
as over the fence he floats, gone.
I slide open my back door,
admitting encroaching sands,
and run through my house to the front room.
Someone has laid a dead rodent on the white pile carpet.
It smells as i pick it up, and leaves a stain.
A face appears behind my front curtains, then flees.
An image of a long dead niece.
From behind the sofa, a giggle.
I bolt through the front door.
The street is dunes of white.
There is a plant pot placed in my driveway.
A single stick, bereft of foliage, sprouts from it.
And, hanging from a branch, a furniture tag.
It bears the word ICARUS.

A fight in the night

I had the darkest dream last night
It pinned me to my bed
A humming buzz of blackishness
was leaning o’er my head

Its eyes were but a sickly gleam
Its curtains brushed my chest
Its leathered hands upon my mouth
my heartbeat did arrest

My hands and feet were flailing fast
to break this evil dream
I shouted out, but only cast
a smother-muffled scream.

a squeezing of the throat it gave
I thought I would be killed.
but morning broke this devil’s cave,
this darkness, unfulfilled.

 

The getaway

as a freshening teenage boy
just shy of sixteen years
foisted from a battle-scarred home
into this supposed school of highness

he is already in retreat
from vitriolic violence
from love that has gone
from hormonal eruptions
from the Bullies Three

the ostracization of the ostrich

he builds his defences
hands upon hands upon hands
he pushes away, and keeps all

at arm’s length.

Tenuous

I’ve started seeing faces
in the most unlikely things.
At random times and places
these thoughts, upon their wings
demand my close inspection,
their weirding eyes aglow;
their dark’ning introspection
like pee holes in the snow.

Upon my popcorn ceiling
at first, I count the stars.
Their constellations reeling-
There’s Jupiter and Mars!
But soon, they’re coalescing
The stew is boiling down
The planets effervescing
It brings to me a frown

The overture delightful
Is closed, and then a curtain
Opens on a scene that’s frightful
Disturbingly uncertain

The faces form but once again
Their gazes schizophrenic
My Google search shows one refrain-
I must be Apophenic.

Blackstars

Through a half inch chink in my prison of warm rubble, I stare.  Gluttonous for the light. I screamed, at first.  Now, breath is shallow and rationed.  In thirty minutes, I will manage a gooselike honk.  I am held motionless and squeezed in painful pincers of crazy two-by-fours, in steel and glass.  I squat.  I smell of myself.  Never been so familiar with my own kneecaps.  One arm, my best one, captive by a deadly weight.  The clockwork beams coming through my spyhole show me flesh, so purple. I thirst.  Three nights I count, and I am fading.  These nights have been clear, and I see a star selection.  For a while, the burning smell permeated all.  Now, it is my own effluent and decay.  I babble to myself ….the sad joke is on you now, brother.  You proud atheist.  If there was a Pride Parade for such, you would have been the flag bearer.  You feel like praying now, don’t you?  But you don’t know to whom.  

All of this day, this bright dreamlike day, I see stars too.  They are before me, black spiders pulsing.  Please.