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Sixty plus years ago
and the pall that covers us today
takes me there
as if I'd never escaped
the dark secrets are darker
the lies run deeper
and the consequences are greater

'those who fail to learn from the mistakes
of their predecessors
are destined to repeat them'

and here we are
watching helpless as we drown in the muddy waters
of apathy
silent
we are even more unaware
as to what is truth and what is fiction

we will soon pay the price
for not listening
not reacting
to the desperate plea of salvation
and to one man
who knew the consequences

and this time there will be no chance
to find solace in our dreams
peace within our hollow contentment
for we have lost everything
that is sacred
if given the chance to relive my days  
would I sacrifice to choose that which I left sighing in the Sun
I do not truly know if the love I chose to abandon
would have survived the years
would have burned through the days of darkness
our mornings wrapped in warmth
I shall never know
and I shall never see again
the vision of you etching your soul
on canvas
silently opening your heart to me
a moment in time beneath the Sun
oldie - for Yve
444
444
they came to check on me
room 222
I had tried to enter room 555 earlier
and the guest reported me to the front desk
who had, in turn called the Sheriff's office
the guest stated that she normally wouldn't have called
but I had such a menacing look that it frightened her
almost a look of...evil
it was 3:33am and the hotel was quiet
they knocked but got no answer
they had the front desk call the room
still no answer
they finally got a pass-key from security
and entered the room to find me passed out on the couch
they checked for a pulse
laughed it off and left me to my dreams
all of this save a vague recollection of being at the bar had left me

and what a dream
I was back in the bar
in the midst of a heated argument over religion, God, evil...
it was close to turning violent when a few cops arrived
they arrested me for drunk and disorderly
but let the other guy slide
I hollered and screamed on the way to the station
even threatened their lives
they just laughed...an evil laugh

I passed out before reaching the station
and in the dream I woke up in my cell
and then immediately and in actuality, awoke in my room
it was 5:55am and I wanted to hit the road by 6am
to get a jump on traffic
I got a quick shower, packed and was at the desk in 20 minutes

The desk agent, after wishing me a safe trip
began to apologize for the incident the previous night
and said it happens all the time
I asked what incident she was referring to
she said 'well, going to the wrong room by mistake'
I advised her she must have me confused with another guest
'oh no' she said...'I'm quite sure...room 222, correct?'
yes...but
'and so unfortunate for the 2 officers who took you to your room
and came back when you were found wandering in the halls trying to get into other guestrooms. Well, just a short time later on their very next call they arrested someone else who grabbed one of their guns and shot both of them. Isn't that awful. I forgot to mention...we dropped the charge for the drink you had just ordered before the officers arrived in the bar...so you have a credit of 6.66 on your card. Come see us again Mr Gates.'
That's Bates...
yea...it's a stretch...
...it all works toward a balance
no matter how messy
no matter how neat
abundant
or discreet
abused
elite
live
die
.....repeat
thank you Moshi Moshi for inpiring this piece as well as the borrowed film title
i turn my back to dreams that fold
in and out as i grow old
slow the clock for just a while
gain a step and lose a mile

every life is a book unread
every thought a dream unfed
and still i let it drift away
without a care i watch the day

come and go like a soothing tide
a moonlit beach where i can hide
among the whispers of poets past
this is where their words are cast
Do you know what we men love, ladies?

We love the raisins in our apple pie
when we just want apple pie
We love the broccoli in every dish
how you beg 'just give it a try!'

We love the fortune in toiletries
so there's no room for our combs
perfumes, shampoos and body creams
blow dryers, curlers and foams

We love how you sneak to the bathroom
just prior to us awaking
we plea for you to hurry
as our bladders are sorely aching

We love to join you shopping
and discuss the cashier's hair
and if we happen to like it
do we tell you...do we dare?

but most of all we love you
for the biggest, most valuable perk
is the motivation you provide
to get our ***** off to work!
all in fun! Oops...I hadn't even realized that CDK was responding to another 'About Men'...that'll teach me to read the notes!! LOL
He would walk to Bears Den when the weather allowed
when his old bones felt as if they could take the steep mountain road
he would sit upon the rock that faced West
towards Winchester
and here he would search for inspiration
despite the pain in his shoulder and knees
he could block that out long enough
to find a few words
the poet of Pine Grove
they would see him on occasion
mention to the country store clerk that
the old man with the pad of paper
was heading up the mountain again
no-one knew who he was exactly
or where he came from
they just knew he was no kin to the local folk
one Winter's day a few kids made their way to Bears Den
to throw stones off the edge
they found the old man
laying sideways on the rock
clutching a pencil
and on the pad
they read the first few lines of a poem;
'Here I can see forever
here I am above the fray'
He was buried in the little cemetery
near Unison
where the Birdman and Wiley rest
it is quiet there
the breeze is constant and the view is open
it is a good place for an old poet's soul
to contemplate his art
the wind that howls in the deepest night
is a comforting sound
the dog that moans at the earliest light
is a soulmate found
I abhor the thought of wistful bliss
of nervous laughter unprovoked
I slip into my warm abyss
this sea of pain on which I choke
I wade in pools of sought despair
while others seek their mothers
I dance on floors of rotted wood
and sing to ghosts of lovers
I find it my salvation
to document this pain
to analyze the demons
and revel in the rain
perhaps one day I'll leave this place
and walk into the Sun
to face the light of happiness
content my deed is done
re-post
the wind that howls in the deepest night
is a comforting sound
the dog that moans in the earliest light
is a soulmate found
I abhor the thought of wistful bliss
of nervous laughter unprovoked
I slip into my warm abyss
this sea of pain on which I choke
I wade in pools of sought despair
while punks seek out their mothers
I dance on floors of rotted wood
and sing to ghosts of lovers
I find it my salvation
to document this pain
to analyze the demons
and revel in the rain
perhaps one day I'll leave this place
and walk into the Sun
to share the light of happiness
content my deed is done
whole new crop of oldies I discovered. (revised) I will mix old and new.
I've had this dream before
somewhere I've been
her face familiar
from long ago
our conversation guided by acquaintance
it moved along in black and white
we walked among old ruins
and buildings long since unoccupied
through rooms of faded paint and old portraits
their frames thick with dust
outside we strolled through what appeared to be
a family graveyard
she stopped
turned and said 'do not be afraid'
stepped away from a headstone which carried my name
'after this life we shall be together'
she kissed my cheek and I was awoken
by the thunder of an oncoming storm
when the last line is written
when the last rhyme is pulled from the bowels of that…
place
when the brain burn and the message is to my liking for now
i will return to the folded arms comfort of night
pick out a star and float to it
sleep

unlike the wicked warmth of tequila
or *******'s almost passive attempts to own me
the word is my true addiction
the insidious hold it has
drawing me in
calling to me every waking moment
i fear the whispers will not end in death
and i shall face an eternity living the nightmare
of an incomplete batch of words
that hold the key to my missing life
How beautiful she is in fires light
flames dance sparks off black marble eyes
lips red and dripping sighs
draw me to bosoms salted taste
we lay first locked in passions moan
inferno of sweet lovers heat
she whispers her undying love
bites flesh
rakes nails along back's skin
I swim in swirling shadows
fall dizzy into the altered state
breathless in the bloodied rapture
the addiction that is she
re-post
i walk to the curb
glance up the hill to get my bearings
your spot is to the left of the oak
and right of the large marble cross
on which an angel hovers below a cloud
your stone is quaint
your name
two dates
and the words
'Beloved Sister to Everyone'
can i sell my soul to know you beyond those fleeting few months
beyond those precious nights that somehow came to an end
how could we have given them to the wind
to the whispers
to the doubts
to the days ahead that slipped away
like an almost 'I love you'

i'm not sure what is more painful to this beating heart
that i shall never know what may have been
or that the light of love i felt for you has yet to ignite in the eyes of another

what might be sadder than a love left to wither
two lost souls in the wake of their misdeed
i hear your voice and see your smile
in the dream i've set aside
and i shall pray this night
that both may return when this heart is silenced
if you find love, fight for it with everything you have. Don't let it be stained by things much less important. I made that mistake
Fifty years I see it clear
a face gone pale
a falling tear
a silent stare as she began
the cutting words that choked like sand
our breath was taken
our hearts were stone
my eyes were fixed
on a tear alone
before it hit the wooden floor
the world beyond our first grade door
had changed from one of children's dreams
from castles, songs, woods and streams
to a good man unsure of what to say
of the world we would have the following day
he removed his glasses
and trembling...he said;
"The President has died"

Camelot is dead
oldie- memories of childhood - 2nd grade teacher informed us that JFK was dead
melodies and spirits of the afterglow
dance within and outside my conscious mind
silent beats and haunting echoes
weave and work through me
like ghosts in a mirror
tantalizing notes within the silence
a guide to endless lucidity
I am released into unbounded thought
and impassioned calm
and delivered reborn
into my awakened state
just a little bit of streaming thought while listening to 'afterglow' ...an amazing 2 hour bit of ambient music
long ago
we lay quietly in the aftermath
of an exhaustive period of rage
the eye
of this terrible storm
rendering a peaceful moment
'don't ever leave me'
you said
in such a pitiful whisper
that I almost believed you
such a haunting, calming plea
that I knew at that moment
I'd never forget this night
even if it be our last
oldie
bitter cold morning
I start the car and await the heat
thoughts of you warm my heart
as the heater warms my feet
we refused to share our lives
beyond those indelible nights we dined
wasting not a precious moment as
our young hearts became entwined
in something we did not recognize
I cannot truly say
why the fire burned so quickly
why the embers weren’t enough
to make us want to stay
…and so we fell away
and live now in each memory’s corner
for these moments to replay
i want to write
but the words dangle like crow
on a wire
against the Sun
their black shine ablaze
i no longer fly to join them
they caw and move on
the old man is done
i watch as they become small
and fade into the darkening skies
time to put the black book away
the Sun has set
growing old
A garden grows this darkened wood
shade by ancient Oak
clouds be thick
dirt be moist
where breath of Sunlight choke
plentiful the plant does grow
in pitch of night it feed
on onion root and wayward toad
this plant of human seed
cloned and honed to grow as wheat
what science has begun
hide away these darkened wood
should mother's soldiers run
with fires racing cross the open
seizures of this land
our dna from yesterday
shall rise from death of man
repost
i held a life in my hands today
and tried to give it back
but could not
she had fallen too high
into the light
and my breath fell short
perhaps she paused
perhaps she knew
i see her face again
when she was young
when she was who she was
and it will always be there
framed in light
pure as breath
alive with the promises
of youth
several years ago I was called to a room where a woman had stopped breathing. I started CPR...first time I had ever done it...and continued until the emt's arrived. they zapped her with the defib and got a heartbeat. I've never spoken to her. I wrote this before I realized she had survived a long period of rehab.
i am lost in a desperate dream
that winds through liquid caves
it holds me by my gasping soul
and pulls me neath the waves
i spend these lifetimes nightly
no end where darkness lives
it bites
then smiles politely
it takes and never gives
i am breath in this empty shell
a life unlived
undone
a falling mass through time and space
that never found the Sun
02/07
alight upon my weary day
you bring your dance
then dance away
mystic beauty show your smile
alight again this lonely mile
come with me cross quantum's beam
night upon night
dream upon dream
vanishing as thought takes hold
I awaken
I turn cold

alight upon my weary day
bring your dance to me
and stay
night upon night
dream upon dream
beautiful dancer
playing with fluff
alone on these quiet shores
in the precious moments before the Sun departs
final echoes of laughter have faded
the mind turns to the reason I am here
it is hallowed ground to this weary traveler
that which brings me back to a path of pure thought
the connection of the soul and mind
the ocean soothes like a gentle voice
of one familiar
and I am somehow closer to you here
it is in these moments that I feel the energy of you
sense the beauty of you
and when the laughter returns
when the moment is no longer mine
this precious time that I have saved
will tell me
when you are near
oldie
the echoes of a long ago dream
play in the silence of a quiet sleep
a dream I once saw clear
a dream I once held near
but it faded like all dreams do
and drifted to the corner of consciousness

they are clouded and difficult to see now
these dreams of the unresolved
unexplored soul
what might I have found
had I heeded its call
its whispers
to follow
Someone along the way
I'm not sure who or why
drove my myth into the ground
derived pleasure in seeing
the dreams I thought attainable
turn to so many dried leaves
gathering in the corner
unnoticed

Somewhere along the way
I lost the will to hold
those dreams sacred
thus quieting my souls breath
to all but a whisper
all but a vanquished hope
silent in the corner
unheard

Somehow along the way
I found solace in relinquishing
that which set me apart
from those already there
aglow in blind contentment
the safety of their corner
awaiting the day
and not the night
my own shadow
become a stranger
am i worthy of such a love
this simple man, this fool
whose darkness shines in dead of day
the night is where i dwell
only howls in the distance
and the silent call of the lost
spark my soul to move

am i worthy of such a love
whose light burns like a thousand Suns
illuminating the same darkness i call home

there is beauty in this world
beyond the desolate thoughts
beyond the pitch black that i see
beyond the colorless landscape where i dream
She resides there
this endless field of light and hope
this world i long to touch
am i worthy
in this age of vanishing dreams
and crying ghosts
I find myself drawn again and again
an undying connection
to this work of art
so out of time upon its creation
as to be an endless fascination for me
so unlike the artist
this suffering soul
who's immense love and anguish
for the less fortunate
coupled with a talent too immense
for one man
created a burden that weighed upon his shoulders
and his heart like a million captured tears
then once upon a beautiful dream
or perhaps just a clever thought or a baby's smile
a brief respite from the pain
he created the contradiction of his lifetime
as if to say to all that may come to know him
through what history dictates
'You see...I was not crazy!'
and The Smoking Skull
was born
I have some connection to this painting that I cannot explain...perhaps that is my skeleton in a past life...(grin)
George Carlin's wife died early in 2008 and George followed her, dying in July 2008. It is ironic George Carlin - comedian of the 70's and 80's - could write something so very eloquent and so very appropriate. An observation by George Carlin:

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to ****. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.

Remember to spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, 'I love you' to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

And always remember, life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by those moments that take our breath away.
after some research...it appears this may not belong to Mr. Carlin...so forgive me for not digging a bit earlier. Especially, my sincere apology to George!
my dreams
they are rekindled nightmares
of my most negative bits of life
they move like thick syrup along a cold plate
drawn out slowly with no resolution in sight
bringing me to the edge of madness
and then
I am awakened with a thud
as if I have fallen from the sky

perhaps a mechanism
or some caring soul slapping me into consciousness
to save me from the real dark stuff

I've experienced the other side in many ways
I've been touched
attacked
threatened
I have also heard the gentle voices of distant souls
allowing me a moment of connection  
I am not quite sure how dreams are intertwined
but I am quite sure that they are
I have an angel
the little girl said
in a voice that quietly screamed
her loneliness
I could not respond then
because I did not hear
then
and continued walking
past her
in the dark hour I listened to all those voices
I could not hear
then
some ominous, some disjointed
and some just
sad
I have an angel

I have gone back to look for her
look for some sign as to where she rest
in this graveyard of lonely souls
in a 20 minute evp session recorded in a nearby cemetery, I recorded this little girl very clearly. If you would like to hear it, feel free to ask
demons took you
haunted by your innocence
and the power of your convictions
I am saddened by this life
unfulfilled
I mourn for what we lost
perhaps a Saint to be
a reflection of God's will
your light shone bright
through the cracks of hell
I trust you reside in the purest of light
that your soul shines in another
and that I shall again witness
the beautiful smile of Anneliese
Anneliese Michel
spirit calls my name as he passes overhead
child cries for mommy 400 years dead
silent disc over trees with faces alive
fireballs falling but never arrive
lights flicker in room 308
unseen occupant says the room is great
numbers , coincidence a daily routine
I've been touched in the dark
if you could see what I've seen
I am terrified and yet drawn near
my curiosity outweighs my fear
they watch me while I'm sleeping
from home to home they follow
they noticed that I noticed them
and without them I am hollow
I followed you home from school yesterday
and I watched through the window as you played in front of Mommy's big mirror
so close to being a woman
but still as innocent as a child
I had to **** the family across the street so that I could use their house for a while
I promise you that they didn't suffer
they never saw me coming
such nice people
see what you made me do!
You'll hear about it on the news in a few days
that was me
my name is...
maybe I shouldn't tell you that right now
because when you get older
we will meet
and you will fall in love with me and my money
and we will live in our own Paradise
that is, until you do something to displease me
just like all the others
then I will have to **** you
just like all the others
Goodnight my Princess
I see you sleeping
so pure you are
sweet dreams
lost in smoke that swirls like ghosts
round music and laughter that sways in stride
blurred by ***** my eyes sweep slowly
through the flickers and clicks of bodies
I search for an opening to make my escape
drowning in thoughts of lust and lines to spin
unable to speak them even to myself
I am not this
gameroom for hollow pleasures
far cries to fill the void
left by love not perceived
therefore unattainable

through the mist of emotional waste
as I prepare to depart
a voice caught me blind and sliced the silent noise
in a deafening whisper
'breathe deep' she said
as a hand turned me to the left
she stood as light in a desert of shadows
she was all I could see
her beauty was staggering
even in my diminished state
I blinked to reset my eyes
and she remained
'Breathe deep and look upon me
for I have found you
and you do not belong here'
Gloria leaned over the bar and whispered
'You okay, you look like you've seen a ghost!'

all was quiet as I left
arm in arm with a vision
I heard the meeting of glasses
as they toasted one they knew would not return
oldie...part 2 of Brewsters
did I hear the sound of a breaking heart
as he finally reached 301
seeing the note taped to the door
just above the peep hole
a long pause
a fumbling of the keys
I knew she had left
I could hear her earlier
sobbing
she'd had enough
she was much younger
and there were years ahead
they had spoken of how this could happen
long ago
rather, he had spoken and she had laughed it off
today she realized he was right
today her glass is half full
and his has emptied

do I hear the sound of silence
oldie - heavily revised
the thought of death is an uneasy thought
in my case it's a ****** nightmare

on the 16th day of May, 1967, Mr Youngblood took his 6th grade class to the playground as he always does, every Tuesday after lunch. The kids spread out to their usual positions. Some played catch with Mr Youngblood. A few, like Roger and me went to the basketball net and several played on the monkey bars, both of which were part of the big asphalt square. Just opposite this area was the soccer field and then some good distance between that and the Middle School. Lots of open space for a bunch of suburban kids to have fun. The Sun was bright and the wind was light and the temperature was right around perfect. We had been playing for 10 minutes or so when the wind picked up and clouds seemed to move in out of nowhere. We all thought it must be a storm coming...and it was. A distant laugh froze everyone. At first no-one saw him, but then we all saw him at once. He was walking across the soccer field towards us, long deliberate strides. Where he came from is a mystery as there was nothing but open land behind him for several hundred yards. He was tall and lanky and as he approached us, I noticed that his face was contorted and discolored...a pale, almost painted white and he had jet black hair combed back, long and greasy. His lips were thin and black and his eyes bloodshot and almond shaped. He wore a black suit, a black shirt and candy apple red tie. He looked like a mosh-up of Curry's Pennywise and Ledger's Joker, only I would have traded for either one of those ******* right now over this guy, ten to one. He came to the edge of the concrete square. Johnny ****** his pants and Charlene fell from the monkey bars, landing on her left side and causing a compound fracture, her radius protruding from her skin leaving her hand dangling like a dead fish. She did not scream either because she was scared it might draw his attention or she was going into shock...or maybe both. He took two more steps forward and then began laughing as if he'd just heard the funniest joke he'd ever been told. His teeth looked as if they'd been replaced with shark's teeth. I swear there were rows of them and his mouth stretched inhumanly wide. His laugh slowly winded down to a snarl, and he gave a long look to each one of us, as if he was burning the faces to memory. And then he spoke..."You children just go on having lots of fun! Well, except for you Johnny...didn't your Mom just rip you a new *** for ******* your pants at Grandma's? shame, shame!" And Johnny was off...tripping twice before he got his feet under him. "You run home and ...Ha Ha Ha...oh my...change your pants, you pathetic little ****!" Mr Youngblood picked up Charlene and started to carry her inside. By this time her pretty pink dress was soaked in blood. The freak addressed him. "Nice man...but you can't save them. In a few days they will all be mine." He laughed again and every kid ran for their lives back to the school. I was the only one who stayed. To this day I'm not sure why. He turned and walked towards me slowly. "What have we here? The little man isn't running with the others. Are you not afraid Billy boy? Afraid for your life?"...and he leaned in close...close enough that I smelled a foulness that cannot be described. "Because that is what I'm here for...your life!" "Who are you, I asked" and with that his dark black and pointed eyebrows raised and he straightened up. "Who am I...Who am I? My, my the boy has a backbone. The nerve to question while others lose control of their bladders. Well, I'll tell you who I am, child. I am God's worst nightmare. I am every ***** little secret thought you've ever had. I am evil in all it's forms wrapped up in one little package and sent to collect the souls of the innocent. All of you here today will be mine tomorrow. Roger will fall down the stairs off of his front porch and break his neck. Charlene will die from infection due to that nasty little accident and Becky will be hit by the school bus Thursday morning. That will be most nasty! Almost a decapitation. I won't bore you with the rest, but they will all die. Hmmm...you know what Billy... I like you, so I'm thinking, perhaps...yes, I'm going to make a special offer to my new special friend. I won't take your soul until you die from natural causes. What do you think of that idea? At that moment, when your family is gathered round your bedside after suffering that...well, maybe you don't want to know the details... you will see a bright light...but you won't be going towards the light Billy...at that moment I will place my hand on your shoulder and that light will slowly fade into darkness and we will meet again, and you will become my apprentice. So, what do you think of that, Billy? Do you want to be my apprentice, or do I **** you now? Come, come...I haven't much time!" I tried to answer, but my mouth was as dry as cardboard and I could only manage a weak gasp. That laugh again and he turned and walked away in the same direction..."I'll take that as a yes. Remember, you are mine upon your death, Billy boy!" The wind died and the Sun appeared again.
By the end of the week, every child on the playground that day had died...exactly as he stated they would.

And now you know why, even in my darkest days, I never, ever contemplate suicide.
this story was prompted by a Joker bobblehead I found in a collectibles store that is creepy as hell
the thought of death is an uneasy thought
in my case it's a ****** nightmare

on the 16th day of May, 1967, Mr Youngblood took his 6th grade class to the playground as he always did, every Tuesday after lunch. The kids spread out to their usual positions. Some played catch with Mr Youngblood. A few, like Roger and me went to the basketball net and several played on the monkey bars, both of which were part of the big asphalt square. Just opposite this area was the soccer field and then some good distance between that and the Middle School. Lots of open space for a bunch of suburban kids to have fun. The Sun was bright and the wind was light and the temperature was right around perfect. We had been playing for 10 minutes or so when the wind picked up and clouds seemed to move in out of nowhere. We all thought it must be a storm coming...and it was. A distant laugh froze everyone. At first no-one saw him, but then we all saw him at once. He was walking across the soccer field towards us, long deliberate strides with long thin legs that seemed to bend once slightly below where the knee should be and again slightly above, making each stride awkwardly horrifying. Where he came from is a mystery as there was nothing but open land behind him for several hundred yards. He was tall and lanky and as he approached us, I noticed that his face was contorted and discolored...a pale, almost painted white and he had jet black hair combed back, long and greasy. His lips were thin and black and his eyes bloodshot and almond shaped. He wore a black suit, a black shirt and candy apple red tie. He looked like a mosh-up of Curry's Pennywise and Ledger's Joker, only I would have traded for either one of those ******* right now over this guy, ten to one. He came to the edge of the concrete square. Johnny ****** his pants and Charlene fell from the monkey bars, landing awkwardly on her left side and causing a compound fracture, her radius protruding from her skin leaving her hand dangling like a dead fish. She did not scream either because she was scared it might draw his attention or she was going into shock...or maybe both. He took two more steps forward and then began laughing as if he'd just heard the funniest joke he'd ever been told. His teeth looked as if they'd been replaced with shark's teeth. I swear there were rows of them and his mouth stretched inhumanly wide. His laugh slowly winded down to a snarl, and he gave a long look to each one of us, as if he was burning the faces to memory. And then he spoke..."You children just go on having lots of fun! Well, except for you Johnny...didn't your Mom just rip you a new *** for ******* your pants at Grandma's? shame, shame!" And Johnny was off...tripping twice before he got his feet under him. "You run home and ...Ha Ha Ha...oh my...change your pants, you pathetic little ****!" Mr Youngblood picked up Charlene and started to carry her inside. By this time her pretty pink dress was soaked in blood. The freak addressed him. "Nice man...but you can't save them. In a few days they will all be mine." He laughed again and every kid ran for their lives back to the school. I was the only one who stayed. To this day I'm not sure why. He turned and walked towards me slowly. "What have we here? The little man isn't running with the others. Are you not afraid Billy boy? Afraid for your life?"...and he leaned in close...close enough that I smelled a foulness that cannot be described. "Because that is what I'm here for...your life!" "Who are you?", I asked... and with that his dark black and pointed eyebrows raised and he straightened up. "Who am I...Who am I? My, my the boy has a backbone. The nerve to question while others lose control of their bladders. Well, I'll tell you who I am, child. I am God's worst nightmare. I am every ***** little secret thought you've ever had. I am evil in all it's forms wrapped up in one little package and sent to collect the souls of the innocent. All of you here today will be mine tomorrow. Roger will fall down the stairs off of his front porch and break his neck. Charlene will die from infection due to that nasty little accident and Becky will be hit by the school bus Thursday morning. That will be most nasty! Almost a decapitation. I won't bore you with the rest, but they will all die. Hmmm...you know what Billy... I like you, so I'm thinking, perhaps...yes, I'm going to make a special offer to my new special friend. I won't take your soul until you die from natural causes. What do you think of that idea? At that moment, when your family is gathered round your bedside after suffering that...well, maybe you don't want to know the details... you will see a bright light...but you won't be going towards the light Billy...at that moment I will place my hand on your shoulder and that light will slowly fade into darkness and we will meet again, and you will become my apprentice. So, what do you think of that, Billy? Do you want to be my apprentice, or do I **** you now? Come, come...I haven't much time!" I tried to answer, but my mouth was as dry as cardboard and I could only manage a weak gasp. That laugh again and he turned and walked away in the same direction..."I'll take that as a yes. Remember, you are mine upon your death, Billy boy!" The wind died and the Sun appeared again.
By the end of the week, every child on the playground that day had died...exactly as he stated they would.

And now you know why, even in my darkest days, I never, ever contemplate suicide.
this story was prompted by a Joker bobblehead I found in a collectibles store that is creepy as hell - I think I will make it my annual Halloween post!
i look to the night sky
for answers
i am so far removed
from where i stand
detached from this time and place
i don't belong
i send a thought
a message
to anyone that may be passing by this galaxy
on their way home
take me with you
seen lots of moving things in the skies lately
There's a poem in my head unwritten
a phrase that lurks just out of sight
a snow covered field that hides a kitten
afraid to cry
its fur of white

there's a sadness in my soul uncertain
of which direction it should take
a play without a stage, the curtain
drawn and black as the deepest lake

there's a landscape in my mind untold
where thought is new as each setting Sun
where dreams are washed in light of gold
and words like children run
how faint his final cry
how frail his last goodbye
plays on low as he drifts away
'song of the sandman lullabye'
he wraps himself in memories
he finds a dream and falls
the music on a constant loop
makes its way down hollow halls

morning light now finds no breath
the pen's ink soon to dry
his final words
his quiet death

'song of the sandman lullabye'
frame by frame i sit and view
the story unfold like a gentle sigh
or a savage scream
spellbound in this intoxicating isolation
carried from my mundane truth
i fuse with the flickers and sounds
that emanate from this giant looking glass
igniting emotions long departed from this life
what a wondrous thing it is
to be moved by lights and words
woven in a veil of music
taken away for just a brief time
to live another's story
as the credits roll
as the lights fade in
and the picture fades out
i turn my collar
head into the cold night
to play the scene from which i escape
every now and again
re-post
In light of day
I feel no more
I work I play
I shut the door
to feelings only night does hold
feelings deep within the cold
the cold and icy wall that shields
that which burns
that which yields
to secrets no-one shall discover
to dreams left vacant for my lover
questions too come with the night
to play the game or bare the light
this light that shines its brightest when
the Sun has gone
the dark descends
but why the thought so quickly gone
when day arrives
when rays of dawn
pour through the window
upon the wall
into thought
erasing all
I felt with night
I thought with light
that burns within
a few minor changes made to a 29 year old poem
In my passing
what will they say
as they gather round the death display
will they shed a tear
for this pallid face
or feign a moment of silent grace
the final glances
the final sighs
the final light on sleeping eyes
the coffin closed
the voices fade
I watch them walk from Sun to shade
back to their homes
back to their lives
where perhaps a piece of me survives
I sense a distance
almost imperceptible
but there
like the silent breath
of a ghost
or the cry of a dying star

something has left your smile
your touch
a second split into timeless truth
your hesitant kiss
sends a thousand shards of ice through my heart
the light that once flickered
is gone from your eyes
called to scour these transient shores
i am slammed against graffitti'd walls
by winds of hate
and waves of steel
in silent vigil
i caress the promise time has made
the place that fate holds for me
i can see
i can touch
i will find
at the end of this storm
I once rode a dream
in a mind made wheel of red light
it took me where I imagined
a rooftop on the corner of my block
or a moon of Jupiter
where I watched the Earth being born
and then die
all in the span of one dream
history known and unknown
I witnessed
those whose lives I read and cried for
and those who garnered no words
those who passed in battle for glory
and those who withered unbeknownst
those who spoke to millions
and those millions
who left in silence
will I remember?
within this dream I asked
to whatever power
whatever being
allowed this
and with that I awoke
to bright Sun
and the laughter of my daughter
'Wake up daddy...wake up
will you remember what?'
perhaps just a dream
perhaps more
but hear me now
seven years have passed
and not a day have I forgotten
not a day
have I not cherished
oldie
poetry is a song without the music
'hello' while eyes are fixed
a dream we can remember
or a painting unseen during its inception
yet there for all to see

a silent movie

so I shall walk into the white
where all is clean
where all is bright
and leave to you the darkness
with words of silence to ease your plight
I am cornered by this world I have come to despise
it has wretched the few morsels of contentment
from my soul
being aware is a curse
in this day
and in the time of my childhood
when we lived in blind bliss
those memories have been stained as well
God help these maniacs
feeling a bit grumpy today
they accumulate
like snowflakes on a limb
and then they are gone
like raindrops on your skin
taken by the Sun
and when the dry spells come
I hold onto them
these memories
perhaps long forgotten
by those who shared in them
and those already silent
they drift downstream and out of site
to return upon my final night
and beginning with the first clear light of youth
all but a whisper
....is life
After telling a childhood story regarding his wife being visited by an actor in the hospital when she was sick back in 1955, he said...'Life is just a whisper...' how true that is.
I'm all out of dreams
they are the same reruns night after night
like some lame cosmic cable channel
Lucy stuffing her mouth with chocolates
Barney fumbling to put his one bullet in the gun
my tubes and transistors have reached their max
I guess the creative juices have only so many years
of bouncing around in your dna
until one day they meet again at the end of the strand
then your ability to decipher turns to mush
Katy Perry songs start sounding good
and politicians make sense
I spend 15 minutes choosing toilet paper at Walmart
so get a final glimpse of the poet that once was
before he begins crying at Hallmark cards
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