She had a way of looking at you after one too many pegs
Her stare far too focused for someone so blazed on spirits
One hand reaching out almost to grab your face
But you realise what she's seeking for doesn't exist in the physical realm
Her hand grips your face now
Gently
Until you feel her nails slowly slicing down your ear
Your neck feels hot as her deft fingers slip inside
Her eyes locked on yours soothing any pain you should be feeling
Her hand going deeper inside you
Dodging artery nerves and pushing aside your muscles
Only to clasp on your voice box
You move your mouth in protest but no words escape
And as you blink in horror, her hand is gone
Your own reaches up to check the wound but there is none
"What....the..****?"
The words slip out with surprising ease
You weren't expecting this
You look at her in confusion
Trying to search her face for an answer she refuses to disclose
After 5 minutes of silence she sighs
"I couldn't find the words to explain how I feel about you. So I wanted some of yours instead."
Her face is closer now, her hand back to cradling your face
You brace for another invasion but what you feel is the unexpected touch of her lips against yours
They tasted so good you decided to give in
Maybe she wasn't the one high on spirits
Maybe it was you
Maybe you just imagined it all
"I want you"

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 lies . . .

it's Halloween!

Keywords/Tags: Halloween, graveyard, shadows, sickle, moon, witch, witches, goblins, serpents, spirits, ghosts, sibyls, Devil

The body of knowledge is vast,
Just like our spirits,
But the closeness of our hearts,
Is more significant,
Than any sea of thought.

You are my ghostly apparition in the night,
appearing when I close my eyes.
I don't know if I'm dreaming,
or if this is the cold, hard reality.
I'm sorry-
I can't finish that sentence,
I need to say it. I need to-
Deep breaths.
One...Two...Three
I'm sorry that you feel the need to be with me.
There. I said it.
I am sorry that you are watching over me.
I am sorry.
I need to tell you something.
Are you here?
I can't feel you anymore.
Please, have you left me alone?
I'm grateful, I truly am.
But you need to go now.
I don't need to be watched over any longer,
your job is done.
I-
No, I can't say it.
Oh, Vengeful Spirit,
apparatus of my despair.
I-
I love you, but you don't belong here-
with me.
I don't know who you are,
but I ask of you-
No, I'm begging you,
Let me go.

Pick up your Markings
discover that reading you
is meeting me

A heart cleaved open
by thoughts never spoken yet
I know them as mine

How can this be when
penned and inked long before I
was even an I

Here they are, speaking
words never written yet known
as carved on my heart

These words resonate
pulsing out, low and long as
water on the shore

Washing over Time
one voice drawn from two strings
as Rilke had said

As is you and I
with one voice burning with words
that transcend all time

Thanks for the giving
back of my words which I spoke
long before I was

And for your markings
guiding me along the path
to the Meeting Place

Where you and I are
one voice drawn from two strings
in Eternal Hands

I walk the stones each Sunday
I leave flowers as I walk
Not for certain people
Just in case the spirits talk

I left a rose for Eleanor
Gone 100 years
Just to let her know that
Someone still sheds tears

There's lots to learn while out here
Walking through the stones
Listen close to all the voices
That aren't as silent as their bones

There are soldiers who died fighting
For freedom they did die
From the beginning of our country
Who now beneath us lie

They fought the revolution
Some fought in Vietnam
Some died lost deep inside themselves
Now, folks don't give a ****

There's many here of children
From the old orphan home
They found them buried out in back
So, there their spirits roam

The grass is kept up nicely
Though the stones are left to rot
I try to clean them up a bit
I guess I'm all they've got

I started out just walking
Now, I clean the stones while here
I give them the respect they miss
I can feel their spirits near

So next time you're out walking
And you want to stretch your bones
Bring a brush down to the graveyard
We'll take a walk among the stones

Do you think like me?
Are we the same?
Our issues and confusing thoughts
Addictive personalities
Thriving on love
The thing we hate but crave nonetheless
Adventurous but scared
Scarred and depressed
But refusing to live that way
Could we be kindred?

today i woke up to a spirit.
i opened my eyes to nothingness, but i could feel the warmth radiating off of the dip in the bed.
at first i was dumbfounded
where were you? could you be the spirit?
and so i fell in l-o-v-e with it.

       wherever i go the spirit follows.
i feel it hold my hand
i feel it massage my shoulders
i feel its l-o-v-e giving me subtle back hugs through my days

       the day you left i fell in l-o-v-e with a spirit.
the embodiment of your memory
the sweetness of its silence

       and if the spirit leaves me, too?
at least i'll be prepared for the emptiness