Tag Archives: Horror

Jack And The Giant Headsplitter

Wherefore doth mine head hurt so? Pain und schmerz, ein und das gleich. I am having trouble thinking as the words pour forth. Please enjoy the poem friends, I hope it more enjoyable to read than to feel.

Headache

Pass, pass, pass the test.

Look around and find no rest.

Surely there into the pot,

there it goes,

the lemon zest.

My head so round,

it pounds again.

I find no time

and can’t tell when.

Bleed again into the sea,

lining the ballast I can see,

my life again it flashes there.

If only now I had some tea.

Fe fi fo fum,

drown your sorrows in some rum.

It feels though the giant stomps upon my rigid skull

as beanstalks grow in through my ears.

Car is stopped.

I’m out of gas.

To Feel As If Floating

In a cloud of long-forgotten stardust, I find myself. Far and further away from anything and everything I once knew. Floating there, no air within my lungs, no blood within my veins. I am but a specter, a ghost outside the machine. My ship blown apart long ago in an ancient battle far away and removed from my current, frozen circumstances. There I stay, drifting through those clouds of stardust, the only twinkle in my eye the gamma rays and photon blasts that pass me by every thousand years, a length of time that to me is but a blink. My glassy eyes no longer hold life behind them, but still yet reflect those beautiful, iridescent nebulas and effervescent starbursts I watched so long ago with the wonder only a child could. Only now it has come to pass that I am no longer a child, but that husk of man adrift in a sea of nothing. I am finally at peace among the stars.

Derelict

It always meant so much to me

You did, I mean

We found our peace among the stars

Our refuge from this world’s many wars

I saw and see inside your eyes a twinkle

Reflection and refraction of those great gaseous bodies

Their existence too is all aflame

A reflection too of that which beats inside my chest 

This heart, that heart

You’ve really made the grade

Only now the signal’s dead

We won’t get home to go to bed

These stars with which we’ve sought solace

Caught there in the space between

Floating, derelict

Waiting for relief that never comes

In A Haze

Woken up again, I find myself responding to the light and to the chirping. To the stimuli, as I should. To all things, as I have before. Perhaps I must change again? I am too much the same as I’ve been, floundering in that sea of doubt and sameness that continues to rise and rise until it rests just below my chin. It stops there and waits, knowing I know of it and what I feel about it. Knowing the anxiety it causes me. Cognizant of the fact that its sentience and salience terrify me like nothing has terrified me before because, simply, the idea of stagnation is equitable in my mind to an endless torture. I find that hell would be preferable to purgatory in that I at least derive some comfort from knowing my torture, rather than not knowing my fate. Please enjoy the poem, friends.

Waking Up

Sick again

I keep doing this

I don’t know

It hurts again

I keep a head

Always in cycles

Moving in circles

Wondering why I did that same thing again

Why i laid my head to rest on that same lap again

To find my roots amongst the trees

And my legs against the seas

Tired of finding that i have weak knees

I’ll don my tricorne

And I’ll set off

Or I’ll set sail

And go there far beyond the pale

As friends and foes sit and wait,

I find myself not resigned to this fate

For it’s with destiny that i have a date

You Know That Feeling?

That feeling you get? That one you get when everything seems turned upside down and inside out? When your intestines twist and knot into a ball of writhing flesh and fluid in such a gross display of angry sadness that you wish that you could just pull them out? Keep them in there. Innards are important. The sickness will pass. One day you’ll learn to untie the knot. Easier if you were once a boy scout, but not impossible otherwise. Enjoy the poem today, friends.

Labyrinth

There within my core

A pit, like an apple

Knowing there is something there

With which i cannot grapple

My core is all in knots

My mind so full of nots

Here I sit and think of all the many empty lots

Where We might sit and think so many thoughts

These words do not release

This tension of declension

A descent so far to madness

That sanity seems so intertwined with badness

Down again into the catacombs

Through all this aching blackness

I look and see a pair of tomes

Filled so now with memories of sadness

A history so obscured in mystery

No one knows but me

No one knows but us

Perhaps we’ll fill a tome again

Perhaps we’ll dream that dream again.

Not Quite So Bad A Day

Afternoon, all. How is everybody? Enjoying the writing so far? It’s important to get a read on things. To understand what’s going on with yourself and the people around you. How could it not be? Take stock of your inventory. It’s your store. Enjoy the poem today, y’all.

Not Quite Knossos

I often speak of castles

Of knights and lords, their many tassels

These halls I walk inside my mind

With tapestries are these walls so lined

Labyrinthine, this fortress

Organic matter rotted away

Steel trap

No words to say

No place to lay

No face today

Delve into these catacombs

Listen to the metronomes

Tick, tick, tick, tick

I feel as though I might be sick

They rock and thrash behind the door

Craving always something more

Shadows billow out from underneath

Can almost hear their gnashing teeth

The darkness calls again beneath