Author: poetryfest

She arrives in a whisper.

The hands of our time all point in different directions, the steady tick-tock of our life. For some it’s early, for others, the clock approaches midnight, and those of the unfortunate—the hands of their time spun forward… ticking… ticking… ticking… More powerful than lightning, always ready to strike, without warning, or with poison.

She has the power to break the bond between man and wife. Uncompassionate and gutless are her ways. She will steal the future from the youth and strangle the past from the wise.

Never does she sleep. She waits and watches, patient like love, but never kind. She can be slow, and sometimes that’s worse.

Her sinister, dark hand comes down upon the earth; a cold claw that takes away those whose time is up.

She is the draught of our fountain.

Like the hidden things that crawl into the earth, she brings down her hammer in secret, wielding no mercy.

From the ground on which we were born, she is the one who will grind us into dust and return us to the earth. She is the shadow that covers our light, the eclipse of our sun.

She ends the gift, returning us to darkness.

She is the unwanted promise, which is our broken clock.

She leaves with a shout

Early in the day, the couple was wed
The crowd rejoiced when I dos were said
But touches in apathy
Wouldn’t end happily
By morning the bridegroom was dead

A sharp song of the wind, shrieking through the twisted trees;
The knotted branches that wail within the breeze;
Rocky pathways scattered, alluring but dangerous.
I alone stare into this desolate abyss.

O’er me towers a shadow of unknown origin,
An ominous silhouette that is anything but porcelain,
Encourages me to walk onto this empty path,
And ensure I will never look back.

Wavering, whispering, willows in the woods,
Thousands of branches with mystical goods.
Swooping and soaring as if spirits rise,
A symphony of spirits haunting cries.

I stumble upon the empty path,
The silhouette stood waiting for my wrath.
Upon entrance do I sight
An unknown mystery with nothing bright.

Shadows of mortality, I sight a smooth stone.
Engraved in the markings, “come back to your home.”
A cold companion for the soul’s own place,
A silent way to mark down my days.
A chilling reminder of the path I have traced.

Engraved in such is frightening memorial,
Words etched in time’s ceaseless flow.

RIP
[REDACTED]
[MM/DD/YY] – [MM/DD/YY]

A vision sinister that can not be grasped.
A haunted specter that kept others masked.
Here lies my name, a marker divine.
A haunting echo was buried in time.

A venture to leave the Forest of Dread,
A poor wretch wandering through a hollow.
Ghosts and souls will forever follow.

Swiftly I roam and ponder about,
With each turn I turn astray.
This haunted forest, a realm of dismay.
A possession of mine I no longer hold,
An ominous silhouette, a companion bold.
Before I could grasp, I was in the silhouettes clutch.
A day of death’s final ambush.

Today I meet the graves embrace,
Today I lie without a trace.
Burrowed six feet under, my cries unheard.
A silent whimper, could it be simpler?

Time passes by without a wonder,
A gruesome fate was all I could ponder.
An underground burrow, death’s feast profound,
Foul decay as my life starts to drown.
A sickening refrain, a helpless man.

I am not human. My hands dripping with ichor as I lift you to my mouth. My teeth, razors, against the flesh of your inner thigh, biting in and drinking you down. I feast on your body, spreading you open beneath me. Your arms twisting over your head, hidden in endless loops of silk. Your breath catching in your lungs, growing fainter with each pull of my lips.

My worship is your horror. I crave the taste of you on my tongue, the divinity of you sliding down my throat, to settle the monster within me. I crave you. The feast of your body settling within my skin, making me more human, with each piece I consume. In your entirety, I kill you to make myself real.

I am Grendel, and you are not even Beowulf. No, you are the sweetest sacrifice sent to appease my hunger. The temptation of meat to a starving stranger. Still, I miss you, each time I am forced to leave you for air. Each second parted from my meal, is an eternity of bitter aching. Insisting on following each tang of you that lingers. I will rip you open, with claws and teeth and blades. Anything to burrow into you, to eat my way into the place behind your lungs. To suck each drop of life from the dying form of your body, until there is nothing left but leather and silk.

My tongue hangs, half out of my mouth. Like some panting dog, drooling over a fresh bone. My jaws covered in pink tinted saliva. Gorging on fat and marrow, cracking open each rib to get another taste. A feral beast clinging to its last meal. Ripping through trust and safety, for food.

The situation was unprovoked.
Your rage was indescribable.
Your words were unfathomable.
Your strength felt superhuman.
My fear was insurmountable.
As if my words were set on repeat, I could only mutter please stop.
I could not cry, not yet.
With each passing second, your rage escalated and vigor intensified.
You continued to dominate my body.
The day you laid your hands on me, I came face to face with the devil.
I could only pray.
Then the unthinkable happened- it was not only you and I.
I was staring back at you, as the gun pressed firmly against your temple.
That was the moment.
I was not looking back at someone I once knew.
Your eyes were no longer green.
You were a hollow shell.
My tears flowed and I could only pray.
My subconscious stopped listening and hearing.
I was emotionally paralyzed.
I could not think.
I could not speak.
My tears and whimpers were now uncontrollable.
I could only pray.

I don’t need supplies.
I need your vote.
For you.
Your family.
Your future.
I taught them to be quiet.
To hide by the safe wall.
We use our walking feet.
Hide your body.
Be quiet.
Crawl.
While I turn off the lights, close the blinds.
Lock the door.
Whisper out names.
Make sure everyone is accounted for.
Some voices turn to giggles.
“Why are we doing this?”
Don’t you remember?
It’s now a lesson I teach, a book I read.
The video about safety, the one we watched.
You are just a baby.
You’ve never heard gunshots.
I follow my training.
The one I learned in a library.
Just another staff meeting.
When “What if?” comes to play.
Fire Extinguisher in hand.
I climb a chair.
I tell the children it will be okay.
Because we practiced.
They’ve been instructed to grab weapons.
They’ll use the school supplies you sent them.
I tell the 5 year olds to defend themselves.
While I wait above the door.
Standing on a bookshelf.
To use my life.
To save someone.
Someone I love.
Did you know that is what teachers are made of?
Guess what?
I still love my job.
Those babies light my heart up.
We care for them so much.
Add Human Shield to our job description.
“You must be a saint.”
They say in the hall.
To have patience for children?
Oh you must be heaven sent.
Yes. I am only trying my best.
Have a growth mindset.
After a drill, I survey the wreckage.
Wipe tears from eyes that are scared senseless.
Have a calm class discussion.
Communicate our emotions.
Ask questions.
Man, these kids are smart.
Empathetic.
Engenius.
Like “What happens if Ms. Porter is hurt?”
How? Do we? Help her?
Where do we run for the help we need?
What do you mean we run to the street?
I’ve imagined all the “What ifs?”.
I dream of blood,
seeping from,
the bodies of,
your children.
As they are scattered across the playground.
I see their corpses in the classroom.
I can hear the screams now.
The ones for change.
To the 2nd amendment.
I ask you.
Your guns?
or
Your children?
Whose future are you protecting?
I’ll buy my own markers, scissors, and supplies.
Make a choice.
Vote.
Use your voice.
Tell me the cost of a child’s life.

Vampire (Rex Jupiter) wanna suck one
¾ moon shines in my full shut eye
I dream of monkeypox on my neck

Damn that mosquito, again
Dyaaaamn, awake, agin
What sound does he make
Like a werewolfwhere (sp?) we,
were we’re howlin

Against my head
What’s that dot, star by the moon

Staring at me
Gleamings on my neck
Jupiter the big one SLAP
..Keepin.my-ass.up

Dear God of sky, law, light, JUP!
And yes, welfare this time too, good-night

It is not easy to see
or to remember,
how the day I sat under a tree,
it gave decent shade to me…

It is not easy to know,
that beautiful day,
how a spot by the lake,
was calming in every way…

It is a beautiful thing,
when instead of the sound of the alarm,
it was the sound of a bird
that made me feel so warm…

When all else fails
to be understood,
things like trees, and butterflies,
tell a beautiful tale, touch wood

My wife says she doesn’t really like
the cereal I bought.
“It tastes like corn chips.
It just doesn’t taste good.
At all.
I don’t like it.”
“Ok,” I say, “I won’t buy it again.”
“That’s what I was getting to,” she says.

But before she arrives at Her Point,
my wife sometimes likes to take the scenic route
through Complain Town,

where the school buses are always stopping in front of you,
and there’s always a truck behind you,
and the lights are too quick,

and the houses are all high ranches,
and every single person has wind chimes,
and the paint on the fences is chipped,
and deflated decorations canvas the lawns,

and the bushes are too bristly,
and the trees won’t stop swaying,
and the hills are too sloped,

and the clouds are too suggestive,
and the sun is always eye level,

and the speed bumps are too high,
and there’s a sidewalk only on one side,

and the mailman could use a belt,
and the kids look wild,
and the elderly limp,

and the birds are always gathering
in the middle of the main road,
which has too many potholes,
and too many fallen branches,
and too many windblown garbage cans,
and is never quite long enough.

i’ve never felt the need to
get lost in someone else before,
but all this shit in my head
needs to be emptied.

lemme empty what’s left
into what i hope can be true,
make something out of
the hope of me and you.