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Jammit Janet Jul 2020
#27
Silence so loud,
It taunts my brain,
Eerie emptiness,
Calling my name,

Sinking into horror,
I lose my breathe,
Uneasy darkness,
Seeping through my chest,

Panic,
Turmoil,
Unending hurry,
Morph and transition,
From scene to scene,
In my private movie,

Staggering emotions,
Intangible,
Yet absolute,
Physical manifestations,
Coursing through,

Creepy creations,
My unconscious enchants,
Oppress reality,
And rationalness,

Pulse accelerating,
Sobbing for air,
Let me go from this madness,
Feed me fresh air.
Ruheen Jul 2020
They do have the best stories.
May not be very bubbly
Or comedic,
But thrilling,
At the least.
Horror
Is
The most fascinating
Genre.
...
Anais Vionet Jul 2020
I love that Internet voodoo
that pile of wires and things
that lets us stay connected
and keeps us entertained.

It ties the world together
like economies these days
it's magic either good or bad
information cuts both ways.

It went down the other day
and it wasn't out that long
the maintenance guy
was at the outside box
and he did something wrong.

I watched him like a tiger
from inside my gilded cage
I was pacing my perimeter
like a predator engaged.

I screamed helpful, timely updates
he seemed a clueless clown
and I was ready to go block
his truck if he tried to leave
while we were still down.

He finally got the thingy fixed
my sweet prince of restoration
I laughed out loud to see the lights
then I gave him a standing ovation.

Without the Internet I'd go crazy
and it wouldn't take that long
after months of dull isolation
it's helped us all stay strong.
A tribute to that Internet thingy.
Himanaya Bajaj Jul 2020
Everything seemed to be going against him
Everything seemed grim
Even the brightest of lights looked dim
The burden on his mind had reached the brim


But then he found a silver lining in this horror
It resulted in the birth of a poet and author


Now there was no time he considered a bad time.
All it was was more content to write about and rhyme!
Johnson Oyeniran Jul 2020
-Nightmare

Around 8 in the evening,
Johnson had woken up screaming,
Because he underwent a nightmare.

His soul was in deep distress,
So  he attempted to suppress,
What had just given him quite a scare.

What on earth did Johnson see?
Haters of Christianity,
Burning in hellfire and in despair.
sarah crouse Jul 2020
Quiet voices fill the night
you have to run before they bite
The shadows try to grab at you
from dark corners, they grab your shoe.

You know you should have listened
they told you ignorance is bliss and
to not go into the woods alone
but you were like a dog with a bone

You dodge the shadows
as they tear at your clothes
the menacing whispers grow louder still,
they leave you with an awful chill

a tree root catches you off guard
you fall and hit the ground hard
the fear rises up within you
as you watch the shadows form anew

the whispers are unbearable
they make you feel terrible
frozen in place, you can only stare
as they jump at you through the air
thought I'd try something new
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
****** with callous authority
****** with casual face
behold guilt and indifference
behold helpless public pleading
cries to mothers past and mothers now
behold public death - oh, watching eyes

behold the citizens’ fear to interpose
behold the helpless sheep, oh lion!
where came such fear?
behold the face of arrogance
behold the face of tyranny
are you safe in your coop, chicken?
where came such power?

Share the barking dogs’ epiphany
wake the half-asleep and world-weary
clutch the scoundrels
Let the pain of others be warning
And the alarm of villains ring like music
a free verse protest poem about the ****** of Mr. Floyd, on TV
k e i Jun 2020
my ghosts are fond of your ghosts-
perhaps you are my exorcism
i guess we should stay with each other’s souls
as my pasts and your pasts get cleansed

yet you must know
that the horrors of what has been before you
can’t ever compare to the threats
that losing you magnifies

-so we’ll stay together ‘til we could get past walls, tenants of a house we’ll haunt
manas Jun 2020
An aspect of fear,
is that it can be seen-
in the eyes of weak,
where dark torment has been-
for infinite ages and nights untold,
ruling upon this cursed land,
with hopes and dreams-
all made of sand.


An aspect of fear,
is that it can hide-
deep down mortal soul,
where one's monsters reside,
to relive every cold winter-
as unfathomable a pain,
and be heard in every silence-
as a malicious midnight rain.


An aspect of fear
is that it's strikingly lethal.
it haunts and scars,
like mistress death, cold and evil.
it feeds on guilt, grief and remorse-
from where its roots take birth,
and Adagio it subdues lost minds,
Till they're cold, inside mother earth.
Dm me on insta @ sorted_manas_stars for creative collaboration for poetry, novels, screenplays and more.
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