"boogeymen" poems
You are the monster under my bed
The boogeyman I cannot forget
The black hand red fingernails creeping lightly on my skin like daddy long legs mama told me couldn't bite
Your lips are splinters digging into the holsters you carved into my bones
October 15th I can remember your blackened eyes hollow nostrils like full moons
You were the werewolf mama told me only came out at night to catch bad little boys
I tried so hard to be good for you to be on your nice list mama said you checked it twice
I bit my tongue till it bled while your boogeyman claws paper shredding my thighs blood coming up like well water on your wrists
I didn’t look when the sun came up and you turned back into a man again
I didn’t look under my bed that night because I knew nightmares weren’t what I was afraid of anymore and
night terrors weren’t what was keeping me so late
I didn’t ask mama if I was a bad little boy and if the werewolf was going to be coming back for me again
didn’t ask her to tuck me in
didn’t ask her to read me another bedtime story
Because you are the monster under my bed
And when I don’t cover my feet under blankets like mama said would keep me safe at night you grip me harder than mama could
I can’t forgive myself and I can’t tell myself
mama was wrong that werewolves and boogeymen don’t come for just the bad little boys at night but you let me know
I was the cautionary fairy tale mama let me know I was the boy who cried wolf
you whispered it in your growling hissing nails-on-a-blackboard boogeyman voice
mama never told me what to do if I was that bad little boy
mama never told me how to fight off the boogeyman
never told me how to **** a werewolf
If I should run a stake through your heart or
use holy water
mama I'm sorry I didn't know
mama you told me you could forgive me
That October night I prayed while I was falling asleep
Mama said it would help
“Dear god please forgive me
I let the devil inside
And he won’t get out from under my bed.”
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Passing stream of neon light
A multi colored dream.
Techno night
An energy fight.
All I see is beams.
Underground
Ravers, dance
Blitzed on LSD.
To escape robotic wits, through transcendental hits, is
trading true life for a dream.
Flashing signs
Outshine the sky
But stars sparkle bright in high minded eyes.
Disco boogeymen twinkle the streets
And Metropolis glistens.
There's music in the background
From a small electronic boutique
Between a novelty store, and a smoke shop
That house a strange and rare mystique.
On a city night, I'm looking across a busy street, and I feel the most powerful of feelings. In awe, all around, I see the fantasies of generations before us. The future itself, as it slowly descends.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
how do you like that,
alchemist?
you turned lead into gold
but it’s not that shiny
is it?
maybe your flask was
rose-tinted
things didn’t go as expected
did they?
you could’ve been happy
if you never knew
at the end of the journey lies
absolutely nothing
how do you like that,
lover-boy?
you won her heart
you’re her one and only
but how do you like
the public sarcasm?
the beratement at home?
what about the “love-taps”?
“you just can’t do anything
right”
that’s the dialogue
right?
we call that abuse
you got what you wanted
but you didn’t really know her
did you?
how do you like that,
young man?
you learned the ways of world
how the real predators
and boogeymen
are just people
just like you and me
you’re safe now
with that truth
but do you feel that?
you lost something
didn’t you?
you feel empty inside
but before you rant about
darwinist suits
corporate scumbags
******* shockjocks
just remember kiddo
you did this to yourself
they didn’t take it
you gave it up
the innocence of a child
you got to the age when
your eyes show you
the truth you need
not the lies you want
but look at you now
maybe you really need the lies
sure they might
hurt you
chide you
scorn you
tell you you’ll never make it
but at least you wouldn’t be so blue
and the world wouldn’t be so blue
the truth
the real truth is
you’ve got to see the roses in front of you
but remember the thorns just beyond
sometimes you’ll get lucky
and miss the thorn
but not every time
so don’t let your hopes fly too high
but if your fear holds you
that rose will stay a distant dream
so why not just go for it
with a smile on your face
and just see what happens?
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 4:28 AM UTC
Growing up, I was stuck in this delusion where
Starving kids in Africa,
Homeless people from all over,
And boogeymen congregated at a large table,
Discussing whom to target next.
Stealing Santa’s Naughty list and
Checking them all off.
One by one.
That list grew ever longer,
Of course it did, my family wouldn’t
Stop having babies.
But they were stuck on me it seemed.
They still are,
Ruining me one year at a time.
Now I know the truth.
Now I know it’s always just been the two of you.
You’re both bandits on the run,
Catching a ride on the train that winds through my mind.
Thieves that steal the tracks after they’ve passed,
Leaving me nothing to fix myself with.
And when I say that you two
Are the tears on my pillowcase,
I mean to say that I cannot exhale
Enough carbon dioxide from my lungs
To rid myself of you forever.
I’ve cried myself dry,
And expelled all my breaths enough
Times to be an empty vessel,
Yet I still find remnants of
Shoelaces,
Glass cups,
And false smiles under
My fingernail when I awake.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
I am often caught off guard by my sadness
It just happens sometimes
When I feel like everyone else is smiling, sometimes, I am crying
If anyone were ever to make a Vine that encapsulated everything it meant to be me
It would be a six second loop of me pushing the hair up out of my eyes to reveal tears
While someone laughed off camera
It’s not that happiness makes me sad
It’s that sadness he just stops by unannounced sometimes
Sad is not something that happens to me
It’s not something I get
It’s not a mood I am in
It is another person entirely and when he knocks I answer
And when he invites himself in I pour the coffee
And when it gets late I offer my bed for him to sleep
Him and I are very different
I believe everyone has a right to see the joy in the little things and smile at them
He believes that every little thing has some bitter jade to pull from it
We both agree that feelings are not boogeymen to run from
But pools we should dive into so that we can fully experience ourselves
We just look at different waters as warm that’s all
I see my son as a growing, living, embodiment of the human spirit
Sadness looks at my son and sees all the evil in this world I can’t protect him from
And we both love him
I look for romantic connection with no knee pads on and pray to fall hard
Sad loves love, there is nothing that hurts more
We both agree love is a wonderfully broken construct
Sad is a wonderful man
He cares deeply
Looks closely
Pays attention to all the grimy details
Laments for what he knows has been lost
And frowns at the turning of Earth
I am a wonderful man
I care deeply
Look closely
Pay attention to all the passing could-be’s
Long to take my turn in sun
And smile at the ticking clock
We are almost the same person
But we most certainly are not different
When sadness arrives I am sorry to see him come
When he goes I am sorry to lose his insight
I know I should hate him
Should fear him or despise him
But feelings are not boogeymen to run from
They are men with whom handshakes are required
And for whom room should be allotted
I gave sad a skeleton key to my heart and he uses it liberally
I suggest you keep a few rooms hidden from him
I certainly wish I had
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 11:04 PM UTC
The wrapes of Grath adorn the path that slammer klingks had tread
when turning spades in everglades to flosticate the dead.
Along the way the snorbels bay at freebled sprutelned
that boogeymen had once again uphove above the shed.
The buildings tall that housed the krawl are pictured carved in stone
and all that’s left is now bereft of wrapes that might atone
for scabs that feed our wrinkled breed, distraught and lying prone.
Yes, flonk replaces merpeled traces deep inside, alone.
There’s no retreat from incomplete, so durbies never dared,
but streaped instead beneath their bed with franjent fangs unbeared;
they knew the past could never last although the trumpets blared,
for doogies, stripped, were ill equipped, no longer bald or haired.
Like cavaliers with gougejent spears, well triggered for a tiff,
slank vankulures with silver spurs embussed for grimp and griff
(no question why, for “we can’t die”, the oft regleated riff);
with little fuss the blunder bus krunged glimpfly off the cliff
and fetid breet of grim defeat gave Grath its final whiff;
the catapult had one result, all life lay lazelled stiff.
The plastic waves that washed the graves, now homeland for the rutch,
though faring worse when quenching thirst with warples in the hutch
were nonetheless, as frunks confess, so pleasant to the touch
exturbing sinks that watered wynx and onetime life as such.
Like burning blotters slurping waters, skindles sipped their fill
from koozing cracks between the tracks inhumed beneath the hill,
then spawned the spores of Grathic wars that profit from the ****
their victory tales, like crimson crails, reside in dung and dill.
Those scrilly clouds that cowed the crowds neath radiation snapes
left little less than watercress beneath their coffin’s drapes;
yes, those unborn cannot adorn the pallor of the prapes
so scrundlemun tinge bibberun, we ones who reap the wrapes.
Yes, now-abandoned hetzelspan were once in time embroiled
with merikained that firps extained until the weather roiled.
What more, perchance, can happenstance inflict upon the koiled
when pendlesnips are in eclipse and wrapes of Grath are soiled?
Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 5:07 PM UTC
you cruel humans
all of you are
with your chapped lips
stinging words
crooked teeth
poisonous giggles
worming their way into
pure innocent hearts.
how dare you
point out anything that you
believe to be wrong.
it's not wrong-
the girl in your class with the unruly hair
go ahead snicker and taunt,
the boy who always smiles,
even if he is the **** of the joke,
and you think these people are the monsters,
disliked and far from normal-
but beauty rests in their souls
and it only intensifies with every jab you make,
and your skin begins to rot and your flesh falls away
and your organs are infected with black holes
where your humanity used to be.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
Even on this soap box do I feel small
What follows truly means nothing at all
Political forces standing arm in arm
Together they chant "vote for me, I won't cause any harm."
Don't peek behind their wall
You won't sleep as well, maybe not even at all
The same named corporate boogeymen rigging the game
What a deal, they get cash and the fame
How about other spots on this rock we share in space
Children working to craft the shoes you lace
The crowned family of the sand gripping the bear by the coin purse
But at least it is cheaper to fill up your hearse
Wait, don't look outward, hold onto your bliss
Things aren't perfect, but they could be worse
Go get burned by the sun or moon light
Grow something from this rock, it is an utter delight
Don't sleep, experience the entirety of night
Leave your mind, temporarily give up your sight
The ground below will dutifully take all your fright
Empty your heart, dump all of the world out from inside
Find an animal in which you can confide
Live as you please, and don't listen to ramblers like me
I'm just talking from the bottom of a cup of coffee or tea
And I leave this purely as proof of the continuation of my life
Now if you will excuse me, I must hide from the sunlight
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 5:19 AM UTC
They cast perverted shadows upon walls
filling the empty streets with heavy footfalls
the neighbour's dog barks, the cat covers it's eyes
in the orphanage a new born suddenly screams and cries
glowing under the moon, skin milky and pale
arms knotted with muscle, fingers delinquent and frail
*[they're out there after you
they know your name]*
beneath balding scalps maggots wriggle and jive
mucus sticking to nostrils where dead flies hide -
*[one look in their eyes
and you'll never be the same]*
blind to all the adults, their evil nowhere to be seen
Boogeyman men of the modern era, suffocating children's dreams
they lurk at birthdays, stalk every Christmas Eve
damning every child that any woman may conceive -
inspiring infidelity with the tip of a hat
inflicting cancer with a killer rasp of their breath
they enter the unfortunate souls of their apostles
eating them inside-out until nothing's left -
squabbling and bickering amongst each other
instead of using words we descend into War,
alas these Harbingers of fear wait with bated teeth
for the protection of our faith to fully thaw
for where there is faith there is love
the only power in this universe true and pure
unconditional to a mother, devotional to a father
in every living heart it beats - of that I'm very sure
but orphans have nothing
to the Harbingers they're easy targets,
along with the countless number of homeless
eating from bins and begging at Christmas markets
so this year spare a thought for those out there -
prepare the Turkey, light the tree, do what you may
but please, please, don't delay the inevitable
for these people may not be with us another day.
#christmas
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
Isn't it true that as a kid
You have nightmares
Of boogeymen and monsters
You run scared to your parents' room
Desperate for their warmth
And that reassurance of reality they offer?
We learn as children
That the substance of our worst nightmares
Can never touch us when we wake
That the threat in the closet is just a shadow
The scratching on your window,
Nothing more than a tree.
We are comforted in knowing that when we wake we can say,
"It was all just a dream."
We cannot be reached in consciousness.
Maybe that's why it was so ******* unreal,
So horrifyingly against all my soothing logic,
When I opened your apartment door that day
Because I saw the monster from my panic-filled nights,
standing, wearing your pants, right in front of me,
And no amount of pinching could make her disappear.
Now, whenever I wake in a cold sweat,
Heart chilled,
Mind spinning,
I will never again feel sweet relief with the words,
"It was only a dream,"
Because it's never just a dream
When you're living in a nightmare.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
die inside
fry without sun
cold night sweats
boogeymen
waiting on trains
everywhere
no where's safe
light never enters
shuttered eyes
embrace chains
shackled from within
live in fear
they have you
entrapped in yourself
while they smile
Jan 31, 2023
Jan 31, 2023 at 5:57 PM UTC