In the graveyard chapel
With the candle wicks nearly extinguished
Was a black dog who guards the grave of his master
Who's bond to this world is relinquished

Old bones sit in the mausoleum near by
Do the dead ever come back to the land of the living?
Sometimes the dog barks at seemingly nothing
But on Samhain when the divide between the dead and living is so thin
The ghosts of the deceased inhabit their homes again

The faint murmurs of voices heard a long time ago
The dog barks and the ghost light glows
People never seem to believe
Deceived by their own scientific nature
But if you stare into the mirror at Samhain
You can see the image of those who have passed

Maybe heaven or hell is not enough for these spirits to fit in?
Long forgotten souls their grave stones unwritten by time
Eroded away like the decaying of time
Youths flower fades into dust...

Cold sweats, clammy hands
******* the life out of me
Phasmophobia

A Poem in 3 Parts by Sara L Russell, 4/6/15; 00:51am*

I

There is a grey area between
this world and the next.
People can be foolish; they dabble in ouija, in
dowsing, in automatic writing;
and - wittingly or unwittingly,
they may open a portal
to the other side.
That is how they enter.
Beware of inviting them in.

Shadow people are there
where needle pierces skin; where the ******
sits, glassy-eyed, on the precipice of oblivion;
they lurk in unholy places where godless
politicians declare themselves to be
speaking for God;
they haunt the dreams of drunkards,
schizophrenics, junkies
and the paranoid.
But they are not spun out of dreams,
they are real.

Shadow people were there
when the ancient pharaohs of Egypt
were interred, with all their gold;
they took them to Hades
for also burying their wives
and servants, alive.
They were there
in **** concentration camps,
sitting on the left shoulders
of those who blindly carried out
orders of death and torture.

They subsist in underworlds of catacombs,
they lurk in the spaces between
our conscious and unconscious minds;
In blackened mirrors they seek out a vortex,
My friends, be the light that
keeps out the darkness,
Do not seek to question the dear and foregone,
No matter how much they are missed;
for there are others lurking in the shadows.
Be not the portal inviting them in.


II

Did I see you in Bohemian Grove,
smiling at the Cremation of the Care?
Were you there,
and did you have more than one shadow?

Did I see you in that Great Hall
with chequered floors,
where the Eye of Horus
watched over a pyramid of gold?

Did you lift a cup of
the good red wine,
did blood brothers drink each other's health,
gazing through a glass darkly?

Did we toast the Cremation of the Care,
and how many others were there?


III

Sometimes we visit Hell in our dreams,
though we may fervently pray before sleep.
There is no shame in sleeping with the light on.
Wear a cross, if you think that it will help.

Sometimes the citizens of Hell visit us,
in that stasis between sleep and wakefulnes;
they are only ever seen at the outer periphery of our vision.
It's never a good idea to look at them directly.

Sometimes they venture a little closer than the rules allow.
Sometimes the line between their domain and ours is blurred.
Occasionally, the breeze seems to whisper your name -
only, it's not the breeze.

Be vigilant.
Always try to see them first.

moonlight reflects
and your skin glitters
like the stars.
you are translucent,
I see the icy chill of your veins-
a striking blue
against the ghostly surface.

an apparition,
contrasted against the dark ink
of the 2 am sky.

The arena crowds my thoughts,
A thousand messages, a thousand stars,
but all I can feel is you.

You taught me how to breathe,
But now I can’t sing.

Lead into Chorus:

Water’s in my lungs,
Quickly filling up,
And I just miss the taste of air.

Chorus:

You’re all that I can see,
But there’s a galaxy out there,
And I just want to see the light.

I don’t know how to separate
From this love gone sour, this heart beat dissipating.
I miss someone who isn’t here,
a stranger in the bar who drinks my bittersweet air.

Some say I should seek a fortune teller,
someone who can cure my slumbers.
I just miss the taste of dreams.
Take me back to sleep.

Water’s in my lungs,
Quickly filling up.
And I just miss the taste of air.

You’re all that I can see,
But there’s a galaxy out there,
And I just want to see the light.

I don’t know how to separate
From this love gone sour, this heart beat dissipating.
I miss someone who isn’t here,
a stranger in the bar who drinks my bittersweet air.

I’m blind and lost in a crowded room,
But you can see straight through.
You’re the only ghost I’ve ever met,
And now all I want is to forget.
Go, go, go go away ghost.
Won’t you, go go, go go away ghost
Won’t you, go go, go go away ghost
Please go go, go go away ghost?

One person sings chorus as another sings “ghost” lines. Intensity builds.

Then, quietly:

Go, go, go go away ghost.
Won’t you go haunt somebody else?

Ghost in the wharf canal

Sweeps the surface of water lucid

Upon the lighting storm of rage

Darkness is luminous silent

Echoing is the call of the ghost

By the hour call of the black raven

The wharf of canal road is daunting

On the soul as the spiritual ghost

Creeps in the shadows of the wharf canal

In the mood so seldom so feared

Swimming the ghost is twined deep

In the water reaping for heart

From it's haunted depart

Trapped in the canal

Is the spirit of wharf of canal road

For eternal surface

Ghostly Wharf
By Deb Harman (c) 25/8/14