Poetry Blogs (macabre)

I've been invited on a ghost hunt

So, I, of course, said yes!

What these people hope to find

I can only guess.

The eerie, the strange

The truly macabre

Haunting and daunting

Where does one start?

I've heard from some folks

About 'certain encounters'

Odd goings on

Alone in the darkness.

Voices and shadows

Movements, vibrations

Spine tingling visions

Then...

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She Hides Behind Her Hair 
Here In The Macabre Theater.
Because All My Memories Are Fuzzy 
Like Old Movies
And He Walks,
And He’s Not Even A Person.
I Flick The Flashlight On.
All This Anticipation 
For The Suicidal Thieves Of Night.
Into The River Of Styx,
We’re Back Into The Water.
We Could Let Him Leave,
We Could Let Him Live,
But Why Bother?
He’s Not Even A Person.

Back In...

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Slow Train to Freedom

Have you ever had the feeling, late one night,

that you're pounding down an ever-narrowing path

without the strength to either flee or fight?

Your feet touch with fear this wanton, ferocious earth,

but the stars reflected in your teal-blue eyes

are the brazier-fires of a homeless hearth.

Then a slow train, velvet-clad under coated skies,

pass...

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