Tag Archives: Horror

Do You Have An Answer?

Afternoon, folks. Hoping everyone is having a lovely Thursday. It feels wonderful out. Bit windy though. I am having a pretty good day, all things considered. Hard fought, I think. Do you ever feel like you just can’t remember something you should? Some things that you should? Like it’s not even on the tip of your tongue anymore, but it’s just been wiped from your conscious mind. A blockage, rather than a haze? Locked away inside a vault in the castle of your mind? Find the key, win the prize.

Popular

An old friend

Come to see me again

“It’s been a while,”

Spoken knowingly.

“Can you remember?”

Not anymore

“Kind of,”

I lie.

“Remember when we…?”

I can’t

“Of course I do,”

Slithered through gritted teeth.

Sitting still upon a precipice

Beady eyes inside a carapace

Try so desperately to keep the pace

Look down and see my untied shoelace

Ataraxian dreams sail breadth of mind

And probe for gold in hearts of mine

But why can’t I remember?

It doesn’t seem like so far away.

He Has Arrived.

Moving on up. Moving on out. Do what you will, perhaps what you must. Find the page, don’t make a fuss. The man, he comes, to do what he does. How will you respond? In all your despondent musings, never could you have fathomed his arrival. The depth of his presence… What could it mean?

The Man

Novocaine

Laughing gas

Numb the pain

Chuckle now, it’ll pass

Never feeling

Never reeling

From the onion, layers peeling

Never crying, always dealing

Put it inside

Stem the tide

Walking cadaver, formaldehyde

Eat your fill

Drink this swill

Take this pill

Corporate shill…

Once upon a time

There was a man from Nice

Quite the man he was, so very nice

And quite the fan of thyme

Corrupted he was

by demons abuzz

And now is his brain turned to mush

Do You Believe In Magic?

Arthur C. Clarke once said, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” We’re on the cusp of an era where people will no longer understand the technologies we have built from the ground up. They are now so complex that were you to ask a child today how a cellphone works, they might simply have no explanation other than that of magic. My generation may be the last to understand technology’s inner workings in any meaningful way, now giving rise to a society that is full of sorcerers rather than scientists. Imagine a world of science fiction. One where we fly on great space arks and control every aspect of reality simply by thinking. No one will know who built these machines or how they operate, just that they continue, always. You will find yourself surrounded by magic and splendor, finding no difference between the former and science any longer. Any notion of us having built these hulking, self-maintenancing, incredible wonders will have disappeared. We may become little more than medieval peasants worshipping great mechanical beasts that do the bidding of those savvy enough to claim their operation, though ignorant to the internal machinations all the same. None of us will live to see this potential future, but we are getting closer.

Transistor

It’s magic.

Don’t you know?

Every little arc and spark

Coursing through the board

Can’t help but find

Inside the mind

A billion little arks

Sailing through the dark

So complex

Are these effects

None of us remember

How it is they render

Those little magic words

Heart of Stone, Breast of Glass

So you’ve looked upon the very thing I spoke of before? So you’ve made the effort? You’ve seen this heart of stone and found it wanting? Wanting what? Where’s your answer? Where’s mine? I can’t tell you the right one, but I’ll certainly tell you one:

Alchemist

Songs float around my head

Think of words they’ve said

Lying wide awake

Transmute gold from lead

Many times you are warned

Many times we are torn

Pricking simple sentences

From the base of a thorn

From the heart, a sliver shorn

Ein Herz aus Stein

A heart of stone

Final patch’s been sewn

To hide away the chiseled heart so far from home

Sing your somber songs

Pray upon the peddled pillory

Climb inside the cold confessional

Not so private… not so safe

Between you and He

A bet you’re willing to make?

Challenge must you undertake.

If It Wasn’t For The Mist…

Good morning! I have a poem today that was inspired by something very dear to me. The one thing that may in fact be responsible for my accession to the title of “Writer”. Fee free to throw out guesses in the comments as to what I’m referencing. I read every one. Without further ado:

The Rite

Ticking tock

Countenance of the clock

In your hands a mirror

In your eyes, a watch

Sitting there

Something queer

What’s that? Just off the pier?

See so far away the light

Never sure in black of night

Whether you or vision’s right

Can’t tell

So overpowering, the smell

Coming from the swell

Pardon me

That’s just the sea

Though still you’ll have to pay the fee

Do you know the price?

Did you roll the dice?

Asking, asking… Not very nice…

To fear a feeling felt so foul

Makes you think to throw the towel

Please just now, secure the dowel

Composed before some ghastly sight

Hide yourself from trick and slight

Gather your things, prepare the rite