Creepy With No Name

She saw bright red eyes,

Following her,

And knew they must be part of a body,

Covered in fur.

She would sometimes speculate,

As to whom or what they belonged to,

And she made quick to navigate,

The well-worn way,

That over the years,

Her feet had trod,

Over the sod.

So many things,

Could be the owner of such awful eyes,

And so many reasons they could have,

For using them to spy.

As far as she could tell,

She was the only one who went this way,

And so she settled on the sentiment,

That the way was haunted,

And the Thing was not,

A Thing Heaven-Sent.

For how could it be a human being,

When the eyes in its head,

Glowed such a fiery red?

And when it was out,

Only when most peoples,

Were abed?

A werewolf?

A demon?

A possessed fellow human?

Tonight,

Thoughts of what it was that lurked,

Ran rampant through her mind.

*************************

Dinner-time was long past,

And getting safely home,

Past that thing that roamed,

Seemed a barely attainable goal,

And even more so,

When she heard that feral growl.

Assuming it to be The Thing,

With adrenaline,

Her blood began to sing,

She was frozen in place,

Then before too long,

Something raced and filled the space,

Between it and her.

Nosediving into a boulder,

Smashing her face and shoulder,

She thought herself done,

And expected any minute,

The Thing would tear her to pieces just for fun.

She could feel it,

She could hear it,

Something sniffing around her fallen frame,

She lay all still and quiet,

But inside her head,

There was a crazy riot.

After nearly a minute passed,

She ventured to open her eyes,

And then,

She got a big surprise,

For there,

Right there in front of her,

Not more than twenty feet away,

Were the bright red glowing fiery eyes!

*************************

And through the immobilizing fear,

Her mind began to work again,

Why was it,

She could still feel her aggressor’s breath,

When she could swear that was he,

Right there up ahead,

And slightly to her left.

But there was not much time for theorizing,

For whatever was sniffing at her,

Was too drooling now,

Like she was steak and fries,

And the red eyes just leapt through the air,

Headed right towards her,

Oh now!

What else was going down,

In this living nightmare?

*************************

And so there was a wrangle,

Between the one actually evil,

And the one mysterious,

With devilish eyes,

And would you know,

She was in for a surprise!

Indeed,

An entity did reside,

On her path,

But it had defeated,

The one who had left her mistreated!

Catastrophic Controversy

Hell is here,

But don’t let that get in the way,

Of living your life today,

Put your angst aside,

And get the fuck outside.

Hell is here,

That much closer to Doomsday,

And the Man Downstairs,

Is trying to take,

An early payday.

*************************

You won’t find no sugar-coatings here,

I say,

Fucking relax,

Because facts are facts,

Your time is your time,

It is predetermined,

By not your brain nor mine,

If it’s meant to nab you,

You can not halt it,

And if you’re meant to survive,

At the end you will still,

Be fucking ALIVE!

*************************

You must realize,

It’s coughing all around us,

Now we’re coated with its germs,

So expecting the worst,

From this curse,

Everyone’s common sense,

Has become paralyzed.

Hell is here,

Stupid souls,

Let it take control,

Rather than live and let live,

Blame is thrown at others,

Who just innocently go about their business,

And long after this is done,

They won’t think it’s fun,

When their targets,

Find it fucking impossible,

To forgive.

Hell is here,

What was alright,

Has become taboo,

At least to you,

But speak to another,

And you’re told it’s no thing,

Really,

The world is about to recover.

Hell is here,

Times are dark,

Days have vibes,

Like the witching hour,

Daunting and full,

Of the Devil’s power.

Hell is here,

It’s been a long time comin’

And would you look at that now?

Many who talk a big talk,

Are frantic and running.

Hell is here,

It takes just a sneeze,

To knock a once-badass,

To their fucking knees.

Hell is here,

And that black-clad bastard,

Is trying to shine,

So let’s not let him get away with tainting,

People and places divine.

May You Rest In Peace

*************************

Come,

Take a leap,

And fall asleep,

Enter Dream Land,

Where reality can’t hurt,

But fantasy can……….

*************************

Destination: Dream Land,

It’s a second reality,

That hides behind the mask of sleep,

It’s a mixed-up mess,

With Sweet Dreams and Nightmares,

And of course,

We’ve all been there.

Smiling merrily,

All of us go voluntarily,

Once we’re tucked in,

And headed off towards Slumber,

One comes for us,

Then we come back,

Either rested or distressed.

But even when you’re far away,

You are here to stay,

Your mind has gone some place,

And there,

It your body cannot chase.

It’s so funny,

This thing called Sleep,

Every night you journey there,

Wondering if Dreams await,

Or if you’ll come face to face,

With yet another Nightmare.

A lucky break,

An escape,

From day-to-day idiocy,

At least that’s what you hope to find,

When you reach the place,

Where Nightmares and Dreams collide.

But when you drift off,

You may be disturbed,

By mysterious entities,

That tend to catch you unawares,

And the only avenue of escape,

Is to wake up scared.

This state of going dormant,

It’s really quite important,

So try not to feel dread,

Just because you may encounter,

Someone or thing who’s been long dead.

No don’t try to fight it,

For if you hesitate,

You may make the Nightmares mad,

And so be met with hostility,

Rather than tranquility.

By all means,

Tonight you might see Monsters,

Creeping up from below stairs,

Yet also lurks,

The possibility of Good Fortune,

Sending you Dreams of fuzzy bears.

There’s a fifty-fifty chance,

You could Dream of fun or romance,

So relax,

And hope all remains okay,

When you hit the hay.

Unseen Storms

I am marked,

By something dark,

It follows me,

Wherever I go,

Making sure high points,

Are followed by lows.

It’s not as bad,

As the Mark Of The Beast,

Or the Wicked Witch,

Of The East,

But still it’s shades of dark,

And they leave a mark.

I see it daily at work,

When the old jerks,

Who are running their yappers,

Think that I don’t know,

They’re talking about beaus,

And making it out,

Like I’m some cheap hoe.

It’s like there’s some slight horror,

Around even the brightest corner,

Right there in front of my face,

Like an ugly tear,

In a pretty piece of lace.

I see it each weekend out,

At some local haunt,

It’s not too bad,

Until I overhear the taunts,

Apparently I’m ugly,

And just not normal,

Though I know it’s fact I’m more pretty,

Than most in my city.

It surrounds me for always,

A dark, dark haze,

Is prevalent through,

Otherwise bright rays,

And so being paranoid,

Darkens my days.

I see it most everywhere,

And I really try,

Not to care,

But I’m so sick,

Of all the stares,

I know tons of folks,

Who need a shove,

Down a long steep flight of stairs.

A speck of thundercloud,

In a seemingly spotless sky,

It seems dead set,

On making me cry,

And so presently,

Here I am,

Just trying not to die,

While I’m alive.

The Proverbial Angel And Devil

There is a battle between good and evil,

It’s raging in everyone’s soul,

It takes two halves,

To make any of us whole,

It goes a little like this:

“Do this,

Or I’ll get pissed”!

And,

“No! Please!

Don’t listen to that!

I smell a rat”!

These two whisper battles,

Day in,

And day out,

Trying to win my affections,

So I’ll follow their directions.

One so bad,

He should make me mad,

But when he speaks,

I hear happy squeaks,

The opposite so good,

I should maybe knock on wood,

For when he says walk,

I cheerily ask,

For guidance to his flock.

I’d be better off,

As a one-man show,

But in each situation,

Inside my skull,

My conscience hears two little voices,

That just won’t dull.

What the fuck?

Is there a way,

To shut them up?

They’ve been keeping everyone company,

Since the Dawn Of Time,

Shouldn’t they have expired by now?

I’d think they should be,

Way past their prime.

I picture the one having horns,

Bearing a black pitchfork,

The other wearing a white robe,

With twinkling stars,

Hanging from delicate earlobes.

They represent the two main things,

That drive this world,

Wicked and righteous,

And as thoughts of both,

Course through all our minds,

It would seem we are all one part sinister,

And another part divine.

Does either one,

Ever win?

Can one being be,

One hundred percent,

Just goodness or sin?

I’d say no one is perfect,

We’re really each a mix,

Of halos and that creepy,

Six-six-six.

We Frustrate Me

Nothing but distaste,

For the human race,

When further I think on it,

The more the hate,

Picks up the pace.

They strive to thrive,

Headfirst they dive,

Into normalcy,

Also known as crazy,

And what a waste,

It’s not as though,

They’re leaving alive.

Flitting about here and there,

And most don’t care,

About a thing,

Unless it’s theirs,

And even then,

It’s hard for some,

Not to act like scum.

The other day,

I was at the store,

Everyone was there,

Rich and poor,

Saints and whores,

As well as everything between,

After looking high,

And looking low,

They all had,

One thing in common though,

They all needed something,

Their money couldn’t buy.

I’m sick of dealing,

With them and their issues,

There’s the alcoholics,

And there’s the apostolics,

Some are even diabolical,

I wonder,

When the fuck,

Did this psycho mix,

Become typical?

Let me tell you,

The whole lot is fuct,

If they keep waiting around,

For a run of good luck,

We each make or break our own fortune,

No one is immune,

Now quit looking so god-damn forlorn,

And go grab a new life,

By the horns.

Are you wondering when,

I’ll make my point?

There isn’t one,

Yet this wasn’t written,

Just for the fun.

LOL @ “Love”

*************************

I wish you well,

My fellow ladies,

And may you forever steer clear,

Of the ones who are crazy.

*************************

It does not exist,

At least,

Not in the genre,

For which we all hope and pray.

It’s fictional,

And I am not being stereotypical,

But it’s simple fact,

It exists abundantly in other forms,

But that one,

Produces toxic storms in swarms.

I wonder why this is so?

Why we let bliss turn into,

Row after row?

I’d almost rather,

Never have had it at all,

Than go through,

The predestined fall.

*************************

First you think you’ve found it,

Seems to you,

You’ve found a perfect fit,

Then the storms start to brew,

And someone changes their view,

Before you know it,

You’re back to just you.

Now here you are,

Should you try again?

Yes,

You’ve decided,

But the sweet wears off,

And again one takes off,

Like a shot.

*************************

It’s a joke,

A waste of time,

And that’s the commodity most precious,

So why do we waste it,

On something fictitious?

I’ve made a list,

Weighed pros and cons,

Seems the emotional investment,

Is not even close to worth it,

The most you can hope for,

Is staying a tad bit detached,

So when the time comes,

You can walk out the door,

Without being dragged down,

Left to live depressed and sore.

*************************

I see your smirk,

But you will see,

It will not work,

He will turn face,

And be a mighty jerk,

Once again,

You’ll need to begin anew,

Because of what,

He’ll put you through.

The Mighty One-Man Cartel

They’re all untrustworthy and slimy,

If you fuck with them,

Your life is destined to become grimy,

It’s said don’t ever trust a dealer,

Not any one,

Not any kind,

Although one exception,

Does come to mind.

These guys like to hide,

And send others out to risk their hides,

But while his abode is hidden too,

You can deal with him directly,

This one’s not inaccessible to you.

This dealer deals in miracles,

Not at all like those who peddle,

The addictions we’re used to buying,

And he advertises honestly,

They’re never laced or watered down,

And then sold by lying,

Plus there is the perk,

That the price is free.

He’d rather deal out free love,

Than make a fortune selling drugs,

And if you cannot pay,

He will not order you slain,

Instead you will be smothered,

In a never-ending hug.

When he goes out gambling,

It’s not cards he’s dealing,

And he won’t be risking dollars,

He’s unquestionably there to place a bet though,

He’s betting he will,

Save your soul.

There is no need to speak in riddles,

As what he’s got,

Is not contraband,

To him you can plainly speak,

Ask him straight-out,

For whatever it is you seek,

For though it’s a sort of black-market,

Nothing he deals can be banned.

Any time,

Anywhere,

Any kind,

He does not care,

Most assuredly,

If you’re experiencing a withdrawal,

Know that it will take no time at all,

For him to meet you there.

You won’t have to chase him down,

While he’s selling coke or toke,

All around the town,

He’s got a better product,

And he knows right when and where you need it,

And instead will hunt you down.

Indeed,

It sounds so good,

How can it be true?

But give him a try anyway,

You’ll be happy when,

He answers you!

The Damned Union

A match made in Hell,

Right from the start,

Like a failed piece of art,

Thrown away,

On a clearance cart.

A match made in Hell,

But it was on sale,

And both were buying,

So blinded by a bargain,

Neither could tell,

That the other was lying.

A match made in Hell,

It started out well,

But it’ll never work,

Not when both parties,

Are so berserk.

A match made in Hell,

They say you never can tell,

But others knew,

How it would end,

Long before it was through.

A match made in Hell,

And they can’t change that,

No matter how much,

They bitch and yell.

A match made in Hell,

Doomed before,

It ever fell,

No way to win,

Despite the fun it’s sometimes been.

A match made in Hell,

What was supposed to be bliss,

Feels more like,

Being locked in a cell.

A match made in Hell,

No one wanted to sell,

But when it’s over it’s over,

It’ll never turn back,

Into a sunny field of clover.

A match made in Hell,

Regardless of being the ball’s belle,

Evidently,

That one wasn’t worth having,

And had to be sent packing.

A match made in Hell,

Left ugly and split,

Chewed up and spit out,

Like old and broken sea shells,

Washed ashore,

In the ocean’s swells.

A match made in Hell,

Where nothing happy dwells,

They thought it would taste sweet,

Like caramel,

Turns out it’s rotten,

And it’d be best forgotten.

Now Wouldn’t That Be Brilliant

Imagine having the ability,

To become invisible,

With a clap of the hands,

Or the blow of a whistle,

What a pleasure it would be,

To get to do things,

Not otherwise permissible.

Certain situations,

Can get awfully sticky,

And to seem to fade out in a puff,

Would be a pretty convenient tricky.

Remaining hidden,

While being there unbidden,

Would be better than riches,

Even if it had some glitches.

Learning secrets,

Not meant for my ears,

Would be a priceless talent,

Maybe even enabling me,

To fuck with an event’s sequence.

I wonder,

In this situation,

Would strangers mistake me for a spirit?

If I were to walk in invisible,

Then reverse the spell,

And say an unexpected salutation?

How suitable it would be,

To be admitted for free,

Thanks to them not seeing,

The body that’s me,

And so they’d be,

Screwed out of a fee.

I dare say it would be,

Good practice for death,

At least that is so,

If you believe in becoming a presence,

After you’ve breathed your last breath.

Well I think that about covers it,

There’s no need to elaborate more on the subject,

By now you ought to get the picture,

Of how life could be richer,

And I suppose it will do me no good,

To speculate,

Of how wonderful it would be,

To possess this fine trait,

But I’d like it anyhow,

If I could make this happen,

Right here right now.