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Dyanova Sep 2014
When clocks strike twelve and trainings end
— lurk not, they say, in school at night.
Age-old stories tell of how there’re
things that throng in fluorescent light.

In toilets silence screeches loud,
for when school’s empty, they arise:
Ghosts of pregnant girls lie wailing,
with cleaner-uncle poltergeists.

For now I sit on chilling white,
resounding prayers in my mind;
my heart racing with dire wish
a friend of Casper’s I won’t find —

Then eeeeeeek!
Is that a door creaking?
Perhaps it stemmed from my own mind,
Hinges sing as they fly open!
Thou who entered, oh be my kind!

A thud thud thud as shoes traverse
across the glinting marble floor;
and louder,
louder as they get
much nearer to my sacred door!

THEN SILENCE

or so I wish!

But a loud knock takes my breath away.
The unlatched bolt lies there lazing
HOW’D I FORGET TO LOCK TODAY?

A hand thrusts in so hard and swift,
door’s open ‘fore I can react!
I’m facing now a girl my age,
She bawls at me with little tact —

Eyes bloodshot and tummy bloated,
“YOU DISGUSTING PIG! HOW DARE YE?!”
I dash out of the girls’ toilet
before she tries to castrate me.
Hahaha wrote this for the fun/pun of it.
Phobial Jan 2014
They teach you in school that the building blocks of life and matter are atoms filled with subatomic particles
But believe me when I tell you that they're lying.
"They" are claiming to be your saviors from what is actually fueling your bloodstream.
Protectors of your sanity
But believe me when I tell you it's fraud, a scheme of words that are meant to prevent you from discovering the actual monsters buried beneath your fingernails and hidden in the cracks of your bones.
You see, what the evildoers trains the neurons in your brain to understand is that the demons in your skin cells are atoms filled with subatomic particles.
This is what you know and you know it for a fact until the time comes for the poltergeists within you to attack.
They line up and pluck away at the petals of your once "protected" sanity one by one until you're convinced he loves you not.
Your defense has been destroyed and the demons flood in with no intention to come back out.
The swarms of beasts taking over every aspect of your being is what is now going to cause a new feeling called "numbness."
Your last memory of peace is permanently shattered.
This is called growing up, kids.
Gregory Bowman Sep 2012
how can we know where lovers go
or when they take the notion
to stop the flow and try to slow
the rhythm of the ocean.

we cannot seek to reach this peak
or lift above that sea,
we are too weak to mug the meak
of their sincerity.

we are alone, together and free.




and here's some stream of thought (that just so happens to rhyme, kinda)...

loopy arousal.
lofty appraisals.
disabled and taken for granted.
in the eyes of the dead,
instead of the usual red,
we decided on green
to dress the scene.
the sound man listened.
the light man leered.
the chef was cooked.
i'm hooked.
heaved on to me like voyeurism
and sought like publishers.
distasteful? yes.
useful. yes.
knowledgeable? sometimes.
lurid trysts and poltergeists
expounding.
multiplication escapes me.
pen and paper **** me.
Nevermore  May 2014
Apparition
Nevermore May 2014
Reading about the paranormal,
The unknown,
Hearing of ghosts and spirits --
It hurts.

The otherworldly
Stirs up the painful memories
Of you.
I'd rather feel
Horror and fear
Anything else but this.

The demonic
The satanic
Can do little else to me
That you haven't already done.

Ghostly visitations,
Hauntings,
UFOs and their merry little abductions --
They all remind me of you
Still lurking my nights

When people trade stories
About aswang and demonic possession,
Cattle mutilations in the middle of nowhere,
I get chills
Thinking of you.

You are as inscrutable
As the Works of the Old Men
As the Nazca Lines
As the Coseck Circle.
Deciphering the Voynich Manuscript
Is nothing compared to the puzzle of you.

Listening to UVB-76
Max Headroom
The Bloop
Rebecca Black
Makes more sense than listening to you.

Unmask Jack the Ripper
Explain the Toynbee Tiles
Solve the Taman Shud Case
And I can solve you.

It's far less taxing, really
And more merciful on my limited cognitive faculties.


Bring me the Mongolian death worm
And Spring-heeled Jack
The Wandering Jew
The Dover Demon
And the Am Fear Liath Mòr
Before I decide
That sympathy and love
Are more that mere legends
Roaming the windswept wastes
Of your icy, shriveled heart,
Closer to reality than cryptozoology.

Abandoned cities and colonies
Only remind me of how abruptly and senselessly you left,
Leaving me a decrepit mystery of ruins

You believed in Atlantis
I said it was Plato's illustration --
His Republic,
Like Augustine's City of God.

Perhaps this was why our Atlantis
Sank to the ocean floor --
We were just good on paper.
Or maybe we started slaughtering
Noble half-breeds and changelings wholesale
Out of a misplaced sense of pride,

Or our union was unholy
And rankled the senses of the Sovereign
Who deemed it an offense
And thus condemned it,

Or perhaps this was an act of mercy
The equivalent of what Lovecraft said
The most merciful thing
Is the inability of the human mind
To correlate all the ******* he encounters
And has to deal with
On a daily ******* basis.


That the solid waves of mindfuck,
Pushing and heaving like tides,
Emanating from little ole you,
Would have finished off
Whatever was left of my mind.

You believed in ******* everything
But us.
Lost continents
Fox spirits
Psychometry
Were-boars
The ******* occult
No problem
All that which science cannot quantify nor qualify
You embraced
Yet you ran from me
And into the arms of another.

You claimed to be an empath
So tell me
How do I feel
After what you did to me?

You tell me.

And isn't empathy
Supposed to make people more compassionate?

The **** is this, then?

These stories
Of yetis and apparitions
Poltergeists and precognition
Used to intrigue and thrill me as a child.
When I grew up
I started ignoring them.
You put meaning back into the whole thing,
However insipid.

I was a skeptic.
You walked the line
Between the physical and supernatural
At least
If what you said is to be believed.

You were nothing but a specter,
Luring another hapless soul
Out into the barren wastelands
With a *** of stew,
Just beyond reach,
To its doom.

You're nothing but a ghost
Of an angry girl
Murdered by the cruelty
Of your parents and the church
And now I'm one of your victims.

Now as I start to see
Faint vistas of the supernatural,
They start to run
With memories of you
Until I can no longer
Distinguish one from the other.

So I'll ignore the glimpses
Of lurid phantasmagorias
And lock myself in
My world of letters and literature
Of armlocks and flying elbows
Of video games and liquor
I will pretend your world never existed.

Please, please keep out of mine.
*****.
Brent  Dec 2014
Nyctophilia
Brent Dec 2014
When I was young,
I was afraid of the night.
I believed it was
home to ghosts, poltergeists
and all kinds of frights.
Just the absence of light
sends shivers to my spine.

As I grew up, I've come
to love the night.
It makes me feel alive.
All of my emotions revive.
and my words drive
to self-proclaimed beauty.

But the thing that I
most appreciate,
is that this is the time
that I get to you.
The only time
I can see your smile
shine bright.
Brighter than the
gleaming moonlight.
you know it's you. :)
Sam Hain  Aug 2015
A Lullaby
Sam Hain Aug 2015
Tonight the poltergeists will come
    And rip you out of bed,
And pound your walls, and drum your door,
    And hammer in your head,
And leave you writhing still alive,
    Though rather you'd be dead.

But fear not these; they merely prank;
    Instead the demon fear
That frightens away the poltergeists
    Whene'er it doth appear,
And screams a scream that makes to bleed
     A stream each mangled ear.

It comes for you, your soul to possess;
    And I do sadly tell,
You have no chance yourself to save;
    So, sleep, and sleep you well—
Enjoy another tender dream
    Before you're dragged to Hell.

O.O
EmperorOfMine  Sep 2018
Ghost
EmperorOfMine Sep 2018
-----------------------------------------------------------------­-------------------------
Dear Diary,

I am a ghost. I don't know how long I've been this way, but It's my reality.

I've smiled with people who can't see me. I've laughed and made conversation with shadows. Sometimes you forget that you can't be seen...or heard...or even thought of.

I like to watch people live -- questioning the actions and thoughts they feel. Oh, yeah, I can hear their thoughts. Vile and sweet...mixed into a bowl like candied poison.

Sometimes I get lonely. It can get bad...like...really bad. Have you ever wondered why ghosts get so aggressive?... You probably know them as poltergeists. That's when we get so tired of being alone...something comes over us...

It's not like we see each other...no...ghosts are solemnly solitary, unfortunately.

So...yes, there you have it...something I wanted to get off of my chest -- the nonexistent one.

I am an utterly, unfortunate, miserable, somber, quiet, insane, and hurt Ghost.


You're welcome.
Are you a Ghost?

— The End —