Alone is my operative word.
It works well in a Republic,
With all those booths and secret ballots.
In Autocracies we are wise to keep to ourselves.
I'm relieved to be on my own
With what I think and what I do.
With others, I'm never alone.
I don't have far away looks;
I'm not fully engaged with me;
I can be spotted in a crowd.
I'm part of the gathering, and so,
I repress alone thoughts and actions.
If you're not looking my way,
I'm still not alone.
Some say they're alone in a crowd.
I don't get it.
I so get:
Shunned. Outcast. Alienated. Isolated. Fringed. Outed.
I knew when someone had the cooties.
But I'm not. I'm beside myself. Next to an idiot.
I'll never leave me alone.

two giant heads that flank the gate
of Charnel House since ancient date
sit pocked and scared in ruined state
and bare the names of Death and Hate

within Death's skull, are nested crows
upon Hate's lips, a gray moss grows
and Death is carved in screaming pose
while from Hate's eyes, a black stain flows

the wrought iron words arched overhead
say this is where you bring your dead
so veil your face and bow your head
as they are lowered to their bed

a filmy ghost descends the stair
with sunken eyes, no nose, no hair
he holds his ghastly evil stare
to frighten souls who wander there

yet, one day, the dead shall rise
and wipe the tears from hopeful eyes
but, Hate has suffered his demise
for this is where all anger dies

Monk Taio Kaneta

In everyday life
we sacrifice our need to feel
without even knowing it

The place in
Cuba
Runned by Americans
Is the next
Most haunted place
On earth
As there was horrific acts
Done there
Second to the great wall
This
This place
Guantanamo Bay
A portal to hell

The weather has gone back
To pretending to be a tsunami
And my heads filled up
By all the grey clouds
It's not that bad, though
Because the magnets on my fridge
Keep spelling out love letters
The taps on my wall
Are to the tune of
I'm in love with you
And all the voices in my head
Want me hitched, not dead
The shadow in the corner
Is down on one knee
And the Grim Reaper
Keeps bringing me bouquets
So who needs a girlfriend
When the undead wants me?

I awoke each morning, without warning
They came from the front door,
And at night the candles were barely well lit,
They were silent and yet I couldn't
Ignore, this is...what is this?
A vile voice and angry specter
Filling my night with gloom,
Now all that was left, my empty space,
For horrors I would brace ,
I couldn't get them out of my face.
This each night they came again,
Banging cupboards while I slept,
Spinning sofas, shooting rubber bands.
They kept invading my dreams,
Upon my shoulder I saw a hand,
A reflection in a portrait of skulls,
A face of an old graying man...*
All of this and more. All of this sent me off my rocker,
I lost my nerve but couldn't settle the score,
I had no idea what they wanted. I was scared
Within inches of my life they were everywhere,
Like the scattering tiny feet of mice.
And a small little puppet twists his face up
Upon my bed, then a native over the same area
With Tomahawk ready, swinging over his head,
Huge spiders appeared upon the ceiling overhead,
And still I was somehow not aware at that,
But they drove me over the edge.
Her feet in the air while lying on the sofa, long hair,
A glaze in her eyes, hate behind the dark disguise,
It's sad to say I had no idea what I'd seen back then,
But it kept going on and on and on.
Close they always followed, they wouldn't let me be,
But I tell you for once a real haunting thing or three,
All I really know is they just wouldn't let me be free...
No matter what I know, no matter what I dream,
Every now and then something moves to scare me.
I know that it's weird and can't find proof or come close,
But all through the years it appears it was a "Gray Winged Ghost."

Two knocks at my door,* I get up to answer-a shadow in the darkness,
A voice asks if they can come in, I don't even recognize them,
I left the door open a little too much last time, I learned not to do that.
Why, you ask? Because I was all alone and on my own then.

I walk towards the door, the voice sounds blurry, kind of faint-
As if dizzyness and despair seems in the air, I clutch the door,
Ready to open it and then without warning "something" comes
To life, I can't seem to see as "it" moves around on the floor!

Then I finally turn on the light, IT'S MY CLOTHING?
I shake it until the bag is still, it's alive somehow what do I do?
I check for the cause, I'm in the cabin loft, I can hear childish laughing-
Chanting again and again-"WELCOME TO THE BEDROOM!"
My head is reeling, I'm wide awake-is this really happening...?