The disease is spreading
No one  will be immune
The bacterial strain
No cure
Relationships are infected
people are sharing the virus
In their beds
In their homes
In the streets
It's communicable
The dyeing are unaware
The infection
Technology grows
you can't bury the dead
The graveyards are full
The disease spreads
one to another
Society needs no cure
unlike the diseases before
Death is not painful
However,slow.

Goblins, gremlins ghosts and more
Tricksters and treaters candy allure
Parties, parades, dances galore
Masks, costumes,  
gowns to adore.
Whatever you do,
don't open the door.
Happy Halloween

I'm lost in the heap of the unfound.
Tossed away, as an old garment.
Within me, there's an untold story.
While I lived and listened to you
Never surrendering my own misfortunes.
Castaway in some box, or clutter.
Never being told.
My silence grows.
In time, I will not be remembered.
Just an old story.
Another tale.
Once vibrant and compassionate.
Heart strong and mighty.
Now frail to another.
Just another lost manuscript never to be read.
Thrown away.
A journal of a  lifetime.
George Maris

“The fault lies within ourselves”
The tearing down of a person
A breaking of the Spirit
The ruining of self
Infliction by other person’s words
Growing up among the abandoned buildings
Once thriving with production
They became empty
The soul seen through broken windows
Cold and damp
Waiting to be torn down
Stripped of its resources for pennies.
Until there’s nothing left
An empty shell
Set it a blaze
Until it’s nothing but ash.
Then cry over the empty space
Remember it when it was a productive enterprise
Forgetting about the time it was empty,

Chained to these walls
I can see only the shadows
The fire gives light to these dark silhouettes
I call them by their names
Puppets, people, or books.
They're  my company and must be real.
I perceive only what I see.
Silhouettes and shadows that are real to me.
I force myself to turn
My shackles are tight
I embrace the company of  my companions
Puppets, people, and books.
I know them by no other names.


Inspired by The Allegory of The Cave

I can't see in this smoke filled room
Only shadows
Lifeless forms, standing like wallflowers
It's quite
I stare and they stare back
I'm in a portrait painted in smoke and dust.
Surrounded by lifeless people
It's in my head.
Formed by my imagination
I sit and wait
Until the smoke clears
The dust is gone

I've waited for the knock on the door.
I could hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.
I'm awakened  in the night by the sound of screams
They're coming from the next room.
Hollering my name.
I feel its presence getting closer.
My cries cannot be heard over its sound.
It's ruthless in pursuing me.
Like an officer pursuing a criminal.
My determination weakens.
I give in to its capture.
embracing eternity.
Forever singing, fearing no more.