Author: poetryfest

The waxing moon lay in a shroud
Behind a wall of ashen cloud
It was now All Hallows Eve
When the dead rise to grieve
What drove me to this haunted place
Shunned by my fellow human race?
My need to know what lay beyond,
When we break our Earthly bond
On the headstone the inscription read
“HERE LIES ONE WHO EATS THE DEAD”
As I knocked upon that stone,
I prayed what rose was flesh and bone
I shivered madly-held my breath
For my chance to speak with death
I heard a voice call out my name
“I see your soul! Why you came!
You long to hear of Heaven’s heights,
Angel song and blessed sights.
On this night, you’ve roused a fiend
Who feasts on those life has demeaned
I eat the living and the dead
I’m the thing that all men dread!”
My mind cried out in fresh alarm
Why had I dared to tempt such harm?
This ghoul will eat me limb by limb
What madness made me call to him?
My soul will perish in this quest
And never find eternal rest
The face was tattered, rotting skin
The ravaged eyes had sunken in.
Blindly I ran toppling stones
Heard lost cries of rattling bones
A streetlamp lit the way ahead
To lead me from this place of dread.
Each night I quake at midnight’s toll,
Chimes that haunt my cursed soul
For the fiend I woke from its tomb
Will now deliver to me, my doom.

in bed this morning
I lie awake

too tired
to fight the day

too scared
to face the night

I dream
with eyes wide open

of things
the brave dare not fear

and the things
that make nightmares sleep

« Les Choses qui Font Dormir les Cauchemars »

dans le lit ce matin
je allongé éveillé

trop fatigué
pour lutter contre le jour

trop effrayé
pour affronter la nuit

je rêve
avec les yeux grands ouverts

de choses
les courageux n’osent pas craindre

et des choses
qui font dormir les cauchemars

I stared at my reflection, exhausted, full of rage.
Placing my hand upon the mirror, I begged to end the pain.
“Perhaps I may be of some help, and we may both be assuaged.”
I was startled to hear the little voice, it must only be in my brain
“Look ahead, for I am real, at least while you are near.”
I looked into the mirror, And lo, it was myself who spoke.
My own voice filled the room while my lips held still with fear.
Within the mirror’s smooth glass, my reflection awoke.

“Hello my twin” the mirror said in a high and hopeful voice,
“Tell me what troubles you so.”
I groaned “Oh!
How I envy you, you know not my strife!
For I am burdened with horrid choice! All throughout my life!”

I held my head within my hands and sobbed again once more.
My reflection asked:
“And why should choice cause such pain? And make you feel so poor?”
I looked at her through bleary eyes and said through muffled sobs,
“Choices only bring me fear and dread.
For when I make one incorrect, it haunts me until I feel dead.”
“I would not know, for I make none. Reflecting you is my only job.”
“For that my friend you’re lucky.” I stated in reply
“I could say the same to you, and yet you still cry.”
I looked into the mirror and asked “whatever could you mean?”
“You have the gift of life” it said “without you I cannot be seen.
I cannot choose to feel joy or despair; the only time I do,
Is when we face each other, and I’m forced to copy you.
And even then I know not why, we may laugh or cry.
I know not the reason for anything I do”

I wiped the tears from my face, and stared into my own eyes.
“Oh how I envy you” I said, “free will is only a burden to human lives.”
The reflection stared back and said, “Perhaps we should swap places,
I can claim your human life, while you reflect my faces.”

I reached out toward the mirror, as another hand emerged.
I felt myself grow flat, as my skin was purged.
I looked upon my own flesh, who laughed with joy and glee.
“Oh how great it is to finally be free!”
She moved her new flesh hand, causing me to do the same.
“I shall make our choices now, to spare you from your pain.”
I felt the same joy she showed, yet I could not not reply.
My reflection turned and walked away, as our relief made us cry.
I walked toward the mirror’s frame, and saw nothing ahead.
I stepped into the void, and felt a great dread.

The next time I saw her, it was not quite as clear.
I was walking within the windows of old shops by the pier.
Next to me were several others, reflecting the busy street.
Repeating all the actions of those who walked in the heat
Some giggled, some cried, some spoke, some walked, and some sat.
Some wore long flowing dresses, while others wore large sun hats.

I walked again into the darkness, wondering where it would spit me out.
I emerged distorted, feeling rounder as I looked up at myself.
My reflection picked me up and shoved me in her mouth.
She put me back then repeated again and again.
Eating as she spoke with somebody else,
I felt my lips repeat her but I knew not what I said or felt

The next time I emerged I was lying down in bed,
Within the white glass lamp that sat just near her head.
“For years I’ve envied you,” she said as I mouthed back to her.
“I’ve hated you for having what I did not, for making me suffer.
Now I am finally free, while you are trapped just like me.”
I wanted to scream, to beg her to let me out,
But I had lost all control over my own mouth.

In the corner of the museum’s foggy hall,

Mannequins stood on display surrounded by caution tape
three mannequin heads peeking down the hall, their faces twisted,
eyes blank yet watchful, frightfully captivating,
Each smile was a grim echo of something forgotten.

Do you see us? they whisper,
The secrets we hold, the stories untold,
those who dared to gaze too long,
now part of our eerie collection.

Once, they flourished on a grand display,
where glamour masked dark ambitions,
but now they linger in the shadows,
a siren’s call to the curious and brave.

One evening, a wanderer approached,
drawn by the heads’ haunting gaze,
What lies beneath those forced smiles?
Their stares daunting, I could feel their souls.

Unfazed, the wanderer reached their hand out. To feel the skin-like material on their faces.

The heads shook. a chilling gasp,
Stay with us, dear friend,
and let us show you our world.

In an instant, the air grew thick,
and the wanderer felt their skin start to crawl,
as the heads twisted into wicked grins,
eyes gleaming with a hunger for souls.

You wanted to see, didn’t you? they sang,
Now you’re one of us, a figure in our play,
lost among the whispers of those before,
a new face in our cursed image.

With a final shiver, the room fell still,
the heads stood silent, now even more alive,
waiting for the next curious soul,
to step closer and join their eerie collection on display.

All is right, good,
All is happy, calm.

And then bam!
A dagger goes straight through her back
To her heart
And stabs her in the deep seeded soul.

Blinded by the lights and blindsided.
Young and naive,
A daisy.

But by the end,
The dagger
Cut off the daisy petals,
One by one.

My today is haunted by the thought of tomorrow.
Sleepless nights keep me awake
It is only out of exhaustion that my eyes become week.
Head slipping into eternal darkness.
Breathing becomes slowed, relaxed.
This body is finally free as my mind takes over.
My dreams are haunted, they never let me rest.
I wake feeling even more exhausted.
Tied, chained, hurt.
There is no escape from the torture that is my nightmares.
Now haunted by my memories.
I wake up, free from my dreams.
I have started to pray to Sandman.
Praying to rescue me.
to help me get some rest.
I can’t help but feel like my prayers have been ignored.
All things that happen to me.
All in my dreams.
Am I being punished?
Have I been wronged?
I would like to rest.
Without the use of medicine.
No matter how hard I try I can’t escape.
This nightmare is real.
Please, let me sleep

When you forgo sleep for the
nocturnal rattle of darkness,
mosquitos sound like violins.
Tiny violins hemming away just
for your ears, a seashell collecting
music.

When you take your pills, you become
a ghost. Truly, you haunt your own
body, your own apartment.
To not take the pills is to hear
one thousand mosquitos like violins.
One thousand screaming strings
just for your ears, a seashell collecting
chaos.

I can bend time. I can shake
my hands so violently that the
earth quakes in agreeance.
I see shadows that turn to lovers
in the daytime.

I hear the violins,
and they
sing
sing
sing.

Be not afraid
A thousand faces
Hidden by uncountable wings
Stand before me
In my dark home

It’s a mess here
Do you think she cares?
This seraphim
This divine thing

For the first time I feel chosen
For the first time I feel wanted
By this incomprehensible thing in my room
Be not afraid

How do you do that
How do you long for something
Your whole life through
And when it comes

Not be afraid of it
Afraid of failure
Afraid of disappointing
Of not being enough

When you’ve prayed and wished
For a thing like this
But everything you’ve been taught
Is fear and trembling

To not be to much
To not be a bother
To not bother this angel
As she stares out your window

be not afraid
Of people, of things
Of god himself
Yet it’s all i know

Will it happen
Will our arms intwine
Our bodies form knots
That can not be untied

Will the mysteries be unveiled?
By the touch of her soul
And the ruffle of her feathers?
Will we be known

But my room is a mess
And I think she’ll leave
This artefact of divinity
The answer to my prayers, a silent failing

This is a disaster
I’ve missed out on all of it
Because I never could
Be not afraid

Actually,
and this is interesting,
I give you this

ten spots on the line
for food in ragged green parcels
pea-frost rises on the back of the truck

and many great humans are born without post
worth distributed in little caps and drawstring bags at Vespers
as I tell my newly machined lover that her rose is out of mint and crinkled

she rolls the soup cans down the hill. Places pass. Period ends. Nothing cracks or crumbles.
The bigamist tumbles off his horse, brushed by sap, canker leaching
but no one has the wherewithal to take a picture

Meaning that I, the one entrusted, besotted,
decline the objects within the frame,
choose to let pass

all that must.
Can you leave? I don’t know.
Maybe

The blade slides in, a silky smooth tear,
Skin splits open, raw and bare.
Exposed fat oozes, the slick red meat,
Muscle snaps apart—a butchered beat.

Wet suction groans, blood spills thick,
Tsunamis of crimson, alarmingly quick,
When tissue rips like rotted thread,
The air reeks of iron and lead.

Each cut, a scream the flesh can’t keep,
The body shudders, wounds run deep.

Fingers pull apart and pick,

Steel scrapes bone with a jagged click.

Finally the scariest moment to be fall,

The silence in the room is what says it all.