Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Nov 2017
Traveler
Coming on the clouds
Your reward arrives
You made yourself pure
You made yourself wise
Beyond reproach
You held to your faith
Stuck to the path
Your death is now safe!

Invisible spirit creature
Made it alright
Reincarnate and repete
Stumbling through lives
...
Traveler Tim

Someone said:
Maybe for this reason
I was wounded like that...

Maybe you were just wounded like that.
 Nov 2017
Terry Jordan
I know what a crash dummy feels
While pouring down rain was humming
Bracing myself with nerves of steel
Eyes wide won’t stop trouble coming

Driving cautiously in the storm
So many cars speeding on past
I’m thinking easy, slow, steady
Not fight or flight before a crash

I know how a crash dummy copes
Eyes wide open with teeth revealed
Safety first face forward bravely
Ever expecting he will yield

Disbelief that it’s barreling
Faster and faster, I lean in vain
No place to go but the shoulder
That whizzing missile blurs in the rain

I saw it coming without the squeals
Pathfinder’s barrel fully loaded
No skidding tires or screeching wheels
Slow motion shards of glass imploded

My little red car lurches forward
In a bang she begins to swerve
That SUV slammed into me
Before dropping back at the curve

I feel what a crash dummy feels
Releasing the damage inside
To let go the past and its sorrows
Straight ahead, there’s nowhere to hide
Even though my car was totaled, hit from behind by a rented Pathfinder driven by 2 French guys rushing to make their flight, I am appreciative to be ok physically-though jumpy about driving ever since-especially in the rain.   Felt there was a poem in there somewhere, but kept thinking of crash dummies.  I  appreciate how so many suffer from PTSD from way worse life experiences than this!
 Nov 2017
wordvango
that certain decorum the chug of
progress down tracks leading
far off growing together perspectives
as if horizons have personality
persona decorative mustaches
on poster board canvases in chalk
scribbled concrete bridge abutments
how the man on the hill chants come here
a cloudy guru like quality you
want need to believe fall for
because the tobacco-stained sidewalks
no longer describe your path
so you take refuge in homeless shelters
eat sup in soup kitchens in torn jeans
long unkempt hair and a bath
might be nice
the lentil soup may smell better
how you know constantly there up high
behind the glass in the steel sky eye
a man sits knowingly
pulling strings
yanking the tongues
out of your independence
just playing
like god
you huff
puff
and stare
completely...
 Nov 2017
Thomas P Owens Sr
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!
My friend failed the appointment
and I had this man beside me
with untimely heavy woolen
peering into the condensed haze
of that October evening.

Being alone is scary,
the hoarse voice melted the silence
and being alive sometimes scarier
than not being
,

he paused as if
the words had drained him

when you hope it the most
and none turns up
to feel and fill you
.

The fog had almost devoured the halogen
leaving me only with the voice.

It's uneasy, I spoke at last,
isn't it weird to be talking
without being seen
?

Not in the least,
his laughter rattled the slumberous air
the world long turned away its face
from the face beside you
.
 Oct 2017
CK Baker
they’re pouring out of the
woodwork
those pretentious machiavellians
in ailing albino frames
eccentric masked figures
milling about the glow light
like night moths
in a london fog

lunatic gazers
with seeping moles
pinned by frogmen and twine
spider climbers
in hell fire
splitting seams
on the fading
and hideous ink

guards of the perch
stand on hades hand
while monsters and demons
with severed limbs
taunt the condemned
and wanting
souls of the ******

cauldron fire
in blood red sky
silent screams
hack and wheeze
gas lines broken
words unspoken
teetering backwards
in the dark shadows
of a phantom abyss
 Oct 2017
L B
“The autopsy will confirm no trauma to the body
no foul play”

Face down in the river
whose name means forked tongue
A crow investigates
where water frowned in flotsam
face down—muddied
hair, mustachio
jeans and striped tee
whose--

“name has not been released pending...”

...His loves
tattooed on upper arm

“Coroner awaiting the next of....”

He'll wait a while
for “Mom and Budweiser” to finally check in
He may have...

“He may have been... ...a resident of
The Cozy Care Home”

where he paid for the care
questioned the cozy whose agent demurs—

“The turnover here is just so rapid... steady current of guests
No one ever noticed....”
“...this is Jacqueline Henry with WBSH News”

“The autopsy will confirm...”
First of the month
to town on a mission
Just a short hop
from stone to stone
from day to day
from rock to a hard place
Looking for a short cut
to Tasty Cakes, bologna
Wise Chips and a 40
cross the gurgling,
glinting light and liquid laughter

...This river has a forked tongue...

...a resident
...a resident
who paid to get missed
who one week before
on the easy way of an April day...
Knocked down, gasping
knocked down
and yanked through his forty-eight years pulled through panic
by lean muscle of current
wishing for something...
for someone
to hang on to!
The autopsy will confirm

This river lies
The local river's name is Lackawanna, from the Native, meaning, "divided."
Neighbor kids found this body.  Another was pulled from the "Lacky" several weeks ago.  Small rivers can be so deceptive.

"40" --40 oz. bottle of cheap beer
 Oct 2017
b
I am a knight.

Not the dark from an evening sky.
Not a warrior wrapped in steel.
More like the chess piece.

My movements? Impractical.
My purpose? Undetermined.
And I'll probably die early.

How comforting.

My accomplice.
My comrade.
My kryptonite.

Make sure to bury me with my horse.
And contort our lifeless bodies into an L
So we can finally embrace what held us back.
Next page