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Tammy M Darby Nov 2019
Allow a being into the bizarre world I have created
When my penance for being human
Has left me cold and my mind serrated

How could I allow myself
Even the slightest expectations
That the emotions of a whimsical poet
Could ever be expressed openly
Outside a circle of ones cursed with the same peculiar traits
Or anywhere but on crumpled yellow paper

To forfeit the right of control of my heart and mind
A simpleton vulnerability pinned to my chest
The quickening of my surging pulse
The fluttering of my heart
At the command of an image’s behest

How could I in my foolishness
Allow a being into the fantastical world I have created
When my explanations for being solitary
Even to myself have not slightly abated

A stark clear image emerges
The stars align in clustered constellation
Revealing the dream that has so alluded me
The life to which I am fated


AllRights Reserved @ Tammy M. Robbins Oct. 24, 2019
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Tammy M Darby Nov 2019
If you dare look upon its reflection
Or have you the courage to look upon the face
Delve into your soul
Without self-admonishment or rejection

Though it holds many answers
So too does the mirror present many questions
The righteous existence of a soul
The solemn eyes that stare into it
Projecting endless depth and perfection

The mirror holds many answers
If you dare look upon its telling reflection
Those who get a glimpse of what lies before them
Are ‘afflicted with anxiety and overwrought
Embracing the art of image deflection
Denying the very secrets, they sought.


Still, others shun what they see in the mirror
Belligerent refusing to acknowledge the truth until the very last
Be assured you can bear the revelations that will be revealed
When you willingly gaze into the looking glass.

All Right Reserved @ Tammy M Darby Nov 9, 2019
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Tammy M Darby Nov 2019
Who in its anger repudiated the world
And embraced the dark.
Or would you prefer elaborate romantic letters of love?
Unwavering devotion,
A pedestal of adoration
Pledges spoken to him above

This tale is of one who by choice turned from the light,
Nevermore hear the chorus of sweet breezes,
Boldly cavorting through sage green branches in the night.
Nor see the unfurling of the young dew-covered grass.
As life slowly drained from the body,
Without protest or a struggle
To breathe its last.

Sadness encroached upon the soul
Oh so quietly and remained
The spirit seeking refuge
Ignoring the risks lept from reality
Into unknown plane

Closing their eyes, tightly
They prayed to forget what it was,
To bear the burden of desire,
Or embrace the malignant lies of love.


All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Oct. 21, 2019.
All Material Stored in Author Base.
Tammy M Darby Nov 2019
There was no choice except to lie about the drug use though everyone in town knew the truth. He was a heavy cranker, a tweaker and tried to keep it secret then the inevitable came, long under drug-induced strain, its parts wearing out, his heart started failing.

He had done the drug for a long time and did a good job of hiding it from most of the people in town until his best friend revealed his habit to a person close to him.

At first, he tried to explain it away by telling everyone it was a disorder ran in his family but those that did the white powder lines with him just laughed. They knew why he was having problems with his heart and soon they would be too. But the damage was done and there were no stories or excuses he could use to cover his operations and hospital stays anymore and soon the whole town knew what he was. He kept the instances of violence against women and other small crimes under the covers by snitching to the police when he had a little useable information and they, in turn, cut him a little slack for his efforts.

But everything had changed. He became thin, gaunt and black blue circles appeared underneath his eyes, his hair fell out and he became an old man what seemed like overnight. Afraid, and rightly so, he wondered if this was the price he paid for his treacherous behavior. For the lies, he told her, the promises he broke and the damage he inflicted because of his greed. For the lives, he had destroyed from his past.

He could not shake these perceptions that tortured him night and day sitting in the back of his brain like a tightening knot that refused to be expelled. It weighed heavy on his heart and more so in his mind until his thoughts turned inward and outward and twisted like snakes. He remembered the last words she spoke; the crying and chills ran through his body, he began to violently tremble and his breathing quickened with the memory of her.

Then it began, in earnest, the nightmares, the echoes of crying, and cold gales of the wind that carried words he had once spoken in pledge. He began to cringe in fear at shadows that he was convinced were lurking and lying in wait for him around each and every corner and the whimpering that came from thin air. that no one else could hear. Paranoia was consuming him and there was no controlling it. The last piece in the puzzle of his destiny had come at last to rest in its final tomb.

He could tell no one of the thoughts that consumed him like cancer lest he revealed the monster that he was. and what he had done. So, his fears festered like a rotting wound that would never heal, putrid and decaying, distrustful and suspicious of all he encountered. Counting the beats of his pulse in his wrists wondering if they would slow and stop day after day until in the end he sometimes wished and yearned for death.

There would be no escape this time or reprieve from his actions and it was not hatred that doomed him but love. Steady as the winds in the sky, the flowing waters of the earth, and even the stars that dwell throughout the universe. The emotion that was stronger some say than the face of death itself.

When the fates deemed, he had suffered enough, the bowels of the earth opened before him and they came. But they had no pity for him and it would not be the sounds of angel wings that greeted his soul. But the moans and shrieks of dark spirits from the underworld, and the smell of sulfur.

It would be her voice he heard laughing, as they took him, her small face he saw smiling until she turned and walked away slowly becoming a blurred vision. His eyes dimmed, he cried the name of the one he had wronged and he strained once more to see her before breathing his last. It was her love that had bewitched him and love that took his life.

My attempt at writing a ghost story
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M.Darby Oct.31, 2019
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Tammy M Darby Nov 2019
For your poor gentle heart will break
Prayers are to no avail or antidote
As love, your soul without mercy will take

Let not love to be your master
For it is to sacrifice without question or demand
Shun its malignant invitation
Decline the touch of its sinister hands

Let not love to be your master
Or your world never again will you find
All-consuming
In reality, existing no more
A lost spirit left wandering throughout time

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby November 2. 2019
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Tammy M Darby Nov 2019
Reclining on the cold black leather couch
Preparing my contrived viewpoints of what’s life's about
My weaknesses, objectives, dislikes, perspectives, and fears
And to the mix for drama's sake
I will add a few false tears

His eyes were full of gray cold dissection
Bemused expression and advice
I accepted without any objections or argument
His professional and profound perspective of my life

When he referred to his life in the past tense
I began to wonder in retrospection
If had lost truly my senses
Eyes changing into ice, fixed and dilated
I listened closely with a novice ear
His worth seriously I debated

He then expressed his fondness
For sizzling Sweetbreads and Farber beans
While telling me in great detail of one client, in particular
A depressive transvestite
And of his long abstract dreams

As he referred to himself as personality number six
Suddenly his steel eyes began to shine and spin
I wondered if I had made a mistake consulting him
And would do so from the beginning to the end

Without word, reason, or warning.
The day came when he quietly disappeared
Intrigued and in my curiosity
Though he was untraceable
I sought him furiously for an entire year
He was after all a student of Sigmund
And I had little or nothing to fear

The postman in his crisp uniform
Appeared on the clock
Owing to the fact I was in his sector
In my pile of mail
Was a hand-signed bill
From my psychiatrist
The infamous Hannibal Lector



All Rights Reserved @ Tammy m. Darby November 3, 2019.
All Material Store in Author Base.
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