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 Feb 2015
ryn
.
•they'd               
come at night•               
these footsteps are               
never light• always                    
heavy and running ar-                      
ound•...they are annoy-                        
ingly creepy..., these aw-                       
ful sounds•every night,                          
after eleven without                        
fail•into rooms,                        

us they would                        
tail• making a                        
din overhead                        
•when all                        
                         should
                        be quiet inste-
                         ad•like barefooted
                          children i would ***-
                          ume...•wandering and
                          exploring into every ro-
                           om•...could they come
                            wilfully•from the cou-
                                ple who live above
                            me•i very much

                             doubt so•bec-
                             ause this much
                             i know...•that
                             the neigh-

bour up-                    
stairs, they're                        
old•frail and meek;                            
never bold•they'd re-                            
tire early•after late, ne-                            
ver a party•now... there                            
the feet go again•drivi-                            
ng me almost insane•                            
on my ceiling now,                            
they're pacing•                        

they know i kn-                        
ow and they are                        
playing•these                        
invisible                        
                        feet•ne-
                        ver would we
                            meet•one thing for
                           sure•this is not a friv-
                            olous tour•determined
                            to tell•that they exist
                              as well•nothing i'm
                               certain but it is clear
                               •i think they really
                              like it here...•

                              •i don't think
                               they're leavi-
                              ng•they're
                 ­              bent on


staying...
.
I live in an apartment on the 2nd storey. My family and I would hear these footsteps every night.

Initially we would dismiss it to be the neighbour living upstairs but that became very improbable simply because the couple who lives above us are far too old to be jumping and skipping in the wee hours...

We have tried ignoring the sounds but they would intensify. We'd hear intentional heavy footsteps, running, jumping between rooms but most of the time they would follow us to whichever room we're in.

Lately these sounds had progressed to rapping on the concrete walls in my bedroom. I could hear them as I lay in bed knocking and tapping on the wall by me.

The thing is... I live in a corner apartment and beyond that wall is the exterior of the building... There is no way anyone could be on the opposite side of that wall...

Creepy much?
.
 Feb 2015
ryn
.
•    
re-
     kindle
    the spark
   that governed
    this game•the fire
  that once burnt as bri-
  ght as sun•all of this once
before, had a name•but now
is weak from the time it had be-
gun•there was a time when it wo-
uld consume•......it would defy the
odds....just so it could burn as one•
frantic and desperate for the magic
to resume•uncertainty has carved
itself into the heart that has come
undone•winds bearing ill no-
tions revealed as the enemy•
stitch up the gaps keep-
ing out the rogue
gust•
  pro
tect
  the
light that burns ever weakly•rejuve-
nate the spirit that harbours broken trust
•rekindle me now... i'm still in the game•
the heart                   save the     you will
isn't                              candle           need
ready                           and              to see
to make                         nur-              me    
sense                            ture             with
of the                             it                 this
dark•                             to                  in-  
                                    fla-              sig-  
                                   me•             nia
                                     ­                     as my
                                                         mark
                                                         •
.
 Feb 2015
Poetic T
Feathers blossomed showering upon sight,
After a windshield hit all was in darkness.
The moments of blindness, reflexes
Each moment ushered away.

For not a moment wished or sought,
A** flurry of darkness covered like death,
These flightless left overs controlling
Every moment lasting a lifetime.

Fate lends us hands, delegates its plan
A motion, was it foreseen,
That which was and is about to happen
Every moment was it mapped out by fates hand.
Let me place an indent,
Of my intent to the Supreme,
And plead Him to bless,
Latest version of life’s software.

My hardware turned soft,
Due to wear and tear,
And software hardened,
Long after ageing years,
I long to log in an indent,
For I belong to you for long,
Oh my dear kind life maker,
Take me with you along.

My memory space is too short,
To live long and prolong,
Please upgrade my motherboard,
From megabyte into gigabyte,
With a backup chip to guard me,
From bothering risk of data loss,
Oh lord! It is time to revamp,
My life’s biometric system.

Empower me to recall,
The memory of my past life.
Let me learn from the lessons,
Of my past to avoid future strife.
And use my yester skills,
For the rest best of life.
Let there be no sinning and sinners,
Wind up the office of hell as well.

Develop and telecast bio-software,
With multiple options to live or leave,
Sign up, sign in and sign out,
Cut, copy, paste and delete,
Log in, log out and log off,
And more such touch skin tabs to press.

May you install ante virus software?
To bind body and soul at will.
For soul is the sole software of physics
Of thy creation and recreation.
 Feb 2015
Sia Jane
"Who am I, mother?
Who am I and what do I do?"

–Norman to his mother Norma, "Bates Motel"

And so it goes, a split self - the protagonist defending the darkness as
Bizarre murders satisfy obsessions of a mothers love, taking a
Chefs knife, stabbing victims to death.

Dualistic wars within, a helpless man whose mother taught him of the
"Evils of women," instilling her own moralities of their wickedness.

Fostering the antagonistic personality of his mother
Giving to his incomplete soul a sense of wholeness.

Hidden behind the boy next door innocence, a terrified man
Incarcerated; locked & bolted
Juddering with fear - promising to adhere - set free said to be "cured."

Kleptomania returns; unearthing bodies from their graves, stealing skulls; a comforting souvenir, as
Loving anyone meant destroying them also.

Multiple personalities dominate him
Norman Bates becomes Norma; his mothers persona, crawling into her skin
Originating from their very kiss, kick starting a timeless love affair

Paraphernalia of skins tanned, butchered conquests -keepsakes turned to art & now protecting an un
Quiet mind
Reasons pertaining to mental insanity
Sectioned to institutions

Taxidermy as a young boy fascinated his mind
Urges to **** & fill, feeding euphoric highs, & even
Vertigo.
Women thrilled him; their smell lingered on each garment he kept.

Xenos to himself; who, am I mother?
Youth denied, cried away
Zenith ended; his final resting place behind the bars of Mendona Mental Health Institution, 1984.

© Sia Jane
Class challenge of an Abecedarius poem <3
I have a best friend, his name is Nobody
Nobody likes me
Nobody cares for me
Nobody notices me
Nobody hugs me when I feel down
Nobody helps me
Nobody talks to me
Nobody loves me
Nobody wants me
I love Nobody too
 Jan 2015
SøułSurvivør
~~~^♥^~~~

sidewalks were a rainbow
butterflies were grey
the sun was filled with darkness
the moon lit up the day...

the seas were full of concrete
buildings made of salt
right was always welcome
wrong was still a fault...

birds flew away backwards
roots grew up like trees
leaves and flowers never wilted
frogs swirrled in the breeze...

the rich lived in the hedgerows
poor people in a manor
war was never thought of
the white flag was a banner...

but I've never seen
these things before
nor tasted salty wine
'til i drank on my own tears
and knew you were not mine...

when these strange occurrences
are there for all to see
then i will receive your love
and you'll come back to me.


soulsurvivor
(c) january 26, 2015
~~~^♥^~~~

Thanks to Poetic T for the inspiration

~~~^♥^~~~
 Jan 2015
ryn
Dig
.
•unchain me from unrest•
shovel me out of the dirt•
une-                              arth
my conge-   sted chest•
let my secrets blurt•
let them
spill.....•
just   for
the wor-
ld to see
•..string
me up...
..against
my  will
•harvest
the fruits
of the bi-
tter tree•
let    eyes
see  what
will show
•...let feet
be caught
in stubbo-
rn mud...•
let prying minds be baffled.....by
what they would come to know
•...let wanting hearts choke...on
the dirges of my stale blood....•
now dig me up quickly•'cause
it's been far too long..... and i
have been readied•exhume
all of me completely•for
no longer should i
remain as........
buried•
.
I am okay, you are okay
We are okay, they are okay
All are okay - Is it really so?!
An ambition sans ambiguity

Many are okay at times
Some are okay many times
Many are okay for themselves
Some are okay for others too
All times are not okay for all
Yet it’s okay that we are all okay
Mostly than never
 Jan 2015
Poetic T
She was hunted by a witch,
Who was to **** her
By the name of white.
She sent the woodsman
To put an end to her young life.

Caught up in the woods,
She begged for her life,
On her knees, she did the deed.
Wood was in her mouth,
  Down the back of the throat licking
Lips after the deed.

Be gone said the woodsman,
She had secured her freedom.
She did run, into the woods
she found a home,
She smashed a window to escape
the cold.

She undressed and lay on the bed.
Asleep she did fall, then awoken,
She was startled as seven little men
Stood around the bed.
Do you like what you see?
If you let me hide here,
I will thank you in ways that a princess is taught,
I can be naughty as well as nice.

They talked and said all right,
She pleasured most of them through out the night.
Happy was used and abused,
But he left the room smiling from left to right.
One did leave the room with a grumpy face,
He liked his kin and sleeping with a woman
Had never felt right.

So through the night,
She showed them things
That only princes usually get to see,
And for a while they lived all happily.

Her name was white,
But she was anything but that.
She had the stamina
To keep these little men all happy,
Content they could live with that.

But time went on,
The queen had found by rumour,
Where she not so pure was at.
A plan was made to
End her life.

A candy apple sold at the door,
She said her thanks an shut the door.
She liked hard things in her mouth,
Licked with her tongue,
Took a bite and passed out.

She was found
When the little men came home.
In tears they where,
As they would once again
Have to use the wooden doll.
Splinters were never fun to pull out,
Used by many it was cleaned a lot out.

She was put in a casket made of glass,
Still a beauty to behold.
As word spread,
Princes from across did try to find.
But only one had found white,
A kiss on the lips
Would break a curse out right.

His lips pressed hard,
and a confused look,
as the kiss was salty on his lips.
Happy smiled as he didn't have a care,
A mouth is a mouth warm it was
When he pushed it in and out.
So he used it to satisfy his urges,
No one would know
As he did it in the dark of night.

She awoke startled,
So much time had past.
I am your prince,
I heard tale of a gargling princess
named as white.

They travelled the land
To avenge her near death,
By the queen of night.
Swords drawn,
The seven little men by her side,
They confronted the queen.

She said do you know what she did?
This woman called white.
She slept with my son,
My husband and me.
Turning each against the other,
Until I was the only one left out of three.

Her name is white,
But she is any thing but that.
She will turn one against the other.
She must die for her crimes against me.
With that the prince looked on,
As she said all is true.

But queen you liked what I did
Before you found out,
That I played your family.
You all got what was deserved
I have no regrets with that.

Then with sword in hand
She killed the queen
With a sword through the heart.
She turned her sights
On the eight men.
The prince fought well
But she was too good.
His head left his shoulders
Ending his life.

The seven were no match for her.
Drenched in red,
But named white,
As all were slain.
She smiled sitting at her rightful place,
The queen of white
That went on to conquer many lands
 Dressed in red but named white.
 Dec 2014
Francie Lynch
I was co-joined
By an isthmus of words;
Ringed as an island.
If I walked away,
I was snapped back;
If I rolled over,
I was chosing sides;
Getting dressed
Was a dialogue;
Eating was identical.
But now,
Now that the separation
Has set in,
I'm next to an idiot,
I'm beside myself.
 Dec 2014
Poetic T
Seeking those lonely ones,
Every step watched, *dark shadows hidden,
Ritual of the **** *planned,
prepared, precision,  
Is the key to the departing of life,
All will fear that moment,
Looking behind as well as in front,
Kill or be killed,
Is the reaction to that moment of a death,
Life is in their control,
Let the blood seep,
Every moment is a last lingering  breath,
Right now you realise your **time is up.
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