Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Erian Sep 21
Crow’s sung in the wakening night
Causing ghosts and ghouls to stir up a fright
Kingdoms broken down in ominous sight

A moon drowned in red
Hanging on by a thread
Scarecrows wandering from field to field
A night escaping by echoing cries

Where the black cats pounce through dusk
Where witches laughter is cold to the touch
A whisper heard in the atmosphere
Halloween is near
Bring out the lights
The ones that glow orange and purple
Slip on your black and white tights
And plant some spiders
We're bringing the aesthetic
Creepy glam and full face
If there isn't a pumpkin involved
I'm not interested
Let'***** Party City
And get this started
I can be Inigo and you can be Buttercup
Or I can be Noel and you can be Sandi
We can dress up as our favourite
Spooky characters
I'll go full axe murderer
And you can be a creepy doll
We'll hit the streets
As wasted teens
They can tell us we're too old
But what do they know
Collapse back home
To watch horror movies
Stay up all night
On fright and candy
This isn't just one day
It's a two month event
So let's get real spooky
And live while we can
It's spooky season, *******.
Also yes, it is August. Do I look like I care?
Ava Jul 1
Specters and phantoms,
spirits screaming at all hours;
chivalrous duels hosted by
chivalrous ghouls with nary
a tomb to house their souls,
bullets whistling as they grin
through a folly of fire
which grazes their fates;
a table of victorian ladies
spirited with Jane Austen
and tea in hand,
listening merrily to
the dancing band;
smoking cigarettes as
laughter roars abound,
the poets of old lay pouring
their souls to the gayous sounds.

O tizzy, O hissy, O goddess
of love and time, free us all
from this realm of uncertainty
and harken the call
to forego the plans of our Domine.
At once you feel it, stop, perform an about turn
Something behind you, into your back its eyes burn
You shiver and shake, rub the hairs on your arms
No-one there, but the goose bumps, the sweat on your palms

Carry on walking, swift, humming out loud
Desperate now to find yourself deep in a crowd
You are sure you can hear it, a breath, a refrain
Who is, who follows you home once again

It has happened before, in fact quite a few nights
A shadow appears in the glow of streetlights
It is gone by the time you shuffle up, when you dare
Where’d it go, did I see it, was it even really there

Put it down to exhaustion, a trick of your mind
The tiredness, the *****, the crap daily grind
The work, family, stress it is driving you mad
Makes you see things not there, you’re so ****** sad

We all have our demons, horrors, creatures run wild
Dreamed up monsters we’ve nurtured since we were a child
But monsters don’t exist here, bold, out in real life
They are fantasies, just stories, imaginations run rife

Silly idiot, you’re stupid, get a sodding grip
And you laugh at your crazy as you feel yourself trip
Something was there, it got you, hear a grunt or a bark
It drags you kicking and screaming deep into the dark
A little bit of pseudo-scary fluff for Halloween
Deep within Earthen bowels
immensely distant from sheltering sky
amidst a thick fog enveloped landscape
with here and there a projected
craggy, derelict chasm

precipitously crooked
rocky claws pointing toward
an infinitely wide yawning abyss
dwelt kindred spirits

comprising soul asylum
where grateful dead (albeit marked,
via weathered tomb stones)
hermetically sealed
once vibrant corporeal mortals
betook their eternal slumber.

One among their number
included a misanthrope
who sported long straggly hair
bushy eyebrows shield

ding cold eyes of steel
straggly bearded clammy chin
in tandem with a hairy body
which when alive (long time ago)

upheld upon unshod feet, a severely
hunchbacked ******
Within dense pitch-black terrain
(Mother Nature enlisting

a menagerie of life forms
accustomed to hellish environment)
awash with unrecognizable
alien sights and sounds

mollycoddling bewitching warlocks,
mailer daemons, trolling trojan horses
imps of the pervert chieftains, fiery
long and fostered Golems

who called underworld
their private demesne
also alluded to Marcy's playground
holding hostage Alice in Chains

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,
The Beastie Boys, Culture Club
The Human League, and
Village People a Crowded House

Emitting wisps of ethereal matter
appearing a small medium at large
chat snap ping, flickr ring
indeed joyus minions
exalting piety good and plenti.

Prone ounce sing proud purgatory
promoting protean phantasmagoria
hideous hulu hoop dancing holograms
highly distorted grotesque
silent 10,000 maniacs screaming
sinister semblance to banshees
slithering across escarpment.

Echoing one end of universe to the other
putting to shame initial big bang
ranking as a mere whimper
that original primordial blast

which cosmological exploits
generated heavenly sphere instantaneously
comparison viz Krakatoa times Googleplex
essentially reduced to insignificance
albeit on the analogous tinker toy
premised conjectures of brilliant minds

could gander feeble educated guesses
asper extraordinary natural phenomena
mortal mankind could never approximate
as belligerent threats punctuated,

via nuclear warfare
merely rates as a flickr
amidst uber kindle snap chat ting
tinder blinks, extinguishes,
snuffs out one lowly
Beatle browed bipedal simian.
Amanda Mar 2018
I am disgusted with myself
Under a disappointed stare
The agony clear and palpable
As it courses through open air

I cannot change the deeds I've done
Unspeak the weighty lies I told
I work towards a better future
To prove trust is something I can uphold

The idea of you wondering
If I am not who I am
Keeps me enveloped in fear
Words barricaded in a tricky dam

Together we can tear down obstacles
Defeat shadows and doubt
One by one I will fix the problems
We have been fighting about

My ghouls are running wild, exposed
By the knife plunged into your heart
I long to have you in close proximity
Yet keep tearing your love apart
You said that what I did was disgusting, I know you don't mean me specifically, but it still hurt at the time.
Mel Tulane Feb 2018
There's not much that can scare me in this life.
Ghosts
Ghouls
Demons
The dark
They all seem rather mundane in the ways of scaring young children

When people like me think of frightening circumstances,
We think of all the ways we can lose our not-so-hard-earned money,
The ever resounding call of failure
And in the end, the inevitable destruction of this earthly vessel.

However, all of these unimaginative dilemmas still seem so bland in my eyes, when compared to the pain in my chest when I'm alone.
Next page