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Kenji 2d
It’s beautiful, a feeling of pure darkness and intensity.
It’s freeing, like a raven in a cage waiting to break free.
It’s dangerous, opening yourself up to such a matter of inner conscious.
Losing self control and letting yourself go.
The dead sleeps still, the graveyard whispers pain and sin.
It’s midnight, I’ve been in this beautiful place for so long.
It’s peaceful, like I am one with the dead of night.
I felt something I didn’t feel in a really long time.
I felt like I belonged, like the spirits surrounded me in welcoming peace.
At first I felt a heaviness, a blockage in my throat.
They felt threatened, thinking I was invading their space.
When they realized, I’m one of them, just another lost soul.
Lines and lines and wired times.
Fading into the abyss and getting high.
The spirits communicate with me, I can feel their energies like an instant magnetic pull.
I can feel their pain, their sadness, their hardships, their madness. I can feel it all, and I soak in energies like a sponge, I can’t help it. Intuition kicks in and I can’t even block it.
It’s intense and beautiful, the fog and misty air.
The dark light, and despair.
I FELT EVERYTHING
It was the best experience I’ve ever had in a really long time.
The graveyard in the back of the church, where true love sleeps, souls stay forbidden, sacred, ridden in deep.
A hidden passage way to the unknown and discreet.
I finally found where I belong, for I am a lost soul, buried six feet deep.
There is a church a few houses down mine in the area. I was also scared to enter, until I found a little graveyard in the back. The energy was intense and beautiful. I felt myself be known and understood in that atmosphere. It was peaceful, knowing the spirits were all blessed and accepted me into their sacred space.

My Scorpionic energy at its highest. My alter ego coming out to play.
Dr zik Apr 26
Everyone is stunned
as passing through the graveyard
no comments at all
Dr Zik's Poetry.
Amna Khan Apr 23
I am no longer here
or at least
it feels like it.

Sitting here
in the land of the dead
is too overwhelming.

Spiraling
down, down, down
but I'm still intact.
How? Why?

I'm immobile
like the intricate patchwork
below me
dead;
just like the cruel substance
that I'm made of.

All the gravestones are scoffing,
mocking the only emotion
that i am capable of;
GRIEF.

Mourn I must;
that the woman
who gave birth to my father
the only anchor I had
that still remained
is dead.

The gravestones chant,
in a language that I can understand,
"All must die.
Mourn no longer
than necessary.
Forget the dead.
PITY THE LIVING."

They are right.
But I will mourn
my deceased anchor
for a while longer;
otherwise, numbness
will take over my horizons
and there is no going back
from there.

So I bury the dead
but before I leave,
I do not forget
to dig my own grave,
for the time is inevitable
before Grief hands me over
to the unforgiving hands of Numbness
and I join those gravestones.
Mitch Prax Apr 19
Won't you fall
into my arms?
I can be your palace
or your shallow grave.
Nabil Falchou Apr 12
I’ve been walking around a graveyard for so long
I’m starting to wonder whether I’m a ghost.
Jenish Apr 7
Pattering rain shattering on grey road
With grisly green umbrella she troad
In a black attire looking ghostly white
Her red woeful eyes sending fearful jilt.

Watery moon painting yellowish lips
Frozen fear dancing on pink finger tips
Her flowing hair sweeping pain of ashes
An orange lamp blinking passing wishes.

Violet blooms falling from whining trees
Covering brown earth - a graveyard in pleas
Ah nature, dull and dreary, standing still
Her fervid eloquence under blue spill.

My canary cage cried a fearful moan
While eyes shifted, into thin air she gone.
Isabine Apr 6
Nothing resists forever
Nothing outlasts time
but
Our hearts thump
With the manifest certainty of
A graveyard’s slow march over an empty field
Passed a graveyard today, and I thought of how it keeps moving, like a rising tide along the shore, into the next open field.
It's Halloween!
by Michael R. Burch

If evening falls
on graveyard walls
far softer than a sigh;
if shadows fly
the sickled sky,
while children toss their heads
uneasy in their beds,
beware the witch's eye!

If goblins loom
within the gloom
till playful pups grow terse;
if birds give up their verse
to comfort chicks they nurse,
while children dream weird dreams
of ugly, wiggly things,
beware the serpent's curse!

If spirits scream
in haunted dreams
while ancient sibyls rise
to plague nightmarish skies
one night without disguise,
while children toss about
uneasy, full of doubt,
beware the Devil's eyes . . .

it's Halloween!

Keywords/Tags: Halloween, graveyard, shadows, sickle, moon, witch, witches, goblins, serpents, spirits, ghosts, sibyls, Devil
grave request
by Michael R. Burch

come to ur doom
in Tombstone;

the stars stark and chill
over Boot Hill

care nothing for ur desire;

still,

imagine they wish u no ill,
that u burn with the same antique fire;

for there’s nothing to life but the thrill
of living until u expire;
so come, spend ur last hardearned bill
on Tombstone.

Keywords/Tags: Tombstone, Boot Hill, grave, headstone, death, doom, graveyard, morgue, final, payment, resting place
Completing the Pattern
by Michael R. Burch

Walk with me now, among the transfixed dead
who kept life’s compact and who thus endure
harsh sentence here—among pink-petaled beds
and manicured green lawns. The sky’s azure,
pale blue once like their eyes, will gleam blood-red
at last when sunset staggers to the door
of each white mausoleum, to inquire—
"What use, O things of erstwhile loveliness?"

Keywords/Tags: death, sentence, dead, cemetery, graveyard, mausoleum, corpses, manicured, lawn, flowers, pink, petals, blue, sky, red, sunset
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