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Cadence Musick Jan 2014
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.
Michael DeVoe Jun 2016
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
A collection of poems by me is available on Amazon
Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe
http://www.wheresheleftme.com/
Bob B Jul 2021
Republicans have a boogeyman.
Actually, more than one.
They are extremely creative and won’t
Let themselves be outdone.

Take critical race theory—
One of their current bugaboos.
They say it’s going to bring about
Our downfall. Hear them on Fox News.

Expressing White racial grievance
And complaining about C.R.T.
Shift the focus away from systemic
Racism here in this “land of the free.”

Marxism and socialism—
Also right-wing boogeymen
That pose insidious threats to our freedom?
Yawn! No, not this again!

Of course, you have the deep state conspiracy—
Another one of their baseless fears—
Which, they like to point out, has been
Happening during the past five years.

Then there’s always Antifa! Right-wing
Pundits will not let you forget,
Although far-right domestic terrorists
Are the ones posing a REAL threat.

What about the Devil incarnate:
George Soros, whom they bash
Excessively on right-wing shows
Where they spread their balderdash?

Ah, and don't forget the Dems.
Trumplicans love to fulminate
Against the Democrats and call them
Dangerous enemies of the state.

They say these boogeymen are going to
Destroy us and NOT just tarnish our name.
Do they REALLY believe this nonsense?
Are they for real? Or is it a game?

-by Bob B (7-18-21)
Keith Johnsen Mar 2014
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 ******* 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.”
Id really appreciate any feedback you want to give me that'd be awesome!!
William Robbins Sep 2015
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.
Lexander J Dec 2015
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
Josh Anderson Aug 2015
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?
cocaineclouds Jan 2014
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.
Terry O'Leary Jul 2021
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?
This [will be/has been] written in the future (3121 CE) by our evolutionary progeny (in the ruins left, after our apocalyptic demise) and [has been/will be] sent back to us as a warning, through a warped space-time wormhole.

But yeah, we won’t pay heed…

Note that ‘language’ [is/will be] different then… so it might sometimes be a little hard to understand...

(too much koolaid???)
Rip Lazybones Mar 2016
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
Taylor Perkins Dec 2016
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.
ymmiJ Jan 2023
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
A peg of fear...
Like a shadow of boogeymen...
I click my heart
Am I drunk???
Heart says yeah...
Then I said okay!
Cheers!!! boogeymen...
They laughed...
And walked away...
If not, then
Smoking cigarette
In do while loop
Would have begin...
...
...
Fretting about an imaginary
problem
is like a child
being
afraid of monsters hiding
in
the darkness of the
bedroom,
but you've got to
remember
simply turning on the
light
made all the boogeymen
go away.

Now, as an
adult,
just let the lightness
of
your inner being keep
you
from agonizing about pretend
crises.
Amanda Shelton Aug 2019
Do you ever get an itch
with your spidey since?

Its like a fly wriggling
in your web, if you don’t
take care of it, it rots
like an old shoe left out
to stink up your house.

I call it my ladybug since,
I can feel your honesty
and your lies miles away.

God gave me another gift
of discernment and empathetic
abilities, I can pick up
feelings and thoughts
from strangers and friends.

My ladybug since has saved
lives many times.

I’ve helped schizophrenics
break free from their
decisional trips by
showing them I can see
what they see and its not
reality.

I know what its like to
see that look of surprise
when they have an eye
opening experience.

Sometimes its like
I become a shadow of
the schizophrenics mind,
and it works almost every time.

To be the bate for
the schizophrenics
monster’s that was
my services I provided,
to save them from their
boogeymen brain robbers.

Now I am retired,
my job is to live
my life out peacefully
with my partner, who I love
beyond tomorrow’s sunrise
and yesterday’s sunset.

© 2019 By Amanda Shelton
for the trumpeting don
spells loss for democracy
after inauguration day
witnesses his swearing-in
nepotism will run rampant
lawlessness the name of the game
of thrones breaking apart ramparts
of inalienable rightful
freedoms rent sunder, whereby nothin
can stop formidable has-been
former forty fifth commander in chief
to wreak havoc giving boogeymen
run for his money.

I cannot vote for that coiffed ogre - tough
luck such as imprisonment
doled out to "losers" -
dragging them by scruff
of their neck
delegating his henchmen
charged analogous
to applying assault, battery and ****
ever ready and rough
each likened as assigned kapo
spewing ala blow torch dragon

puffing out following
remaining poetic lines
dashed off in a huff -
based on the scary political fracas -
that a looming presidential nightmare
doth not become reality show -
apprenticing "Three Billy Goats Gruff"
(Norwegian: De tre bukkene Bruse),
a Norwegian fairy tale collected
by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen

and Jørgen Moe
in their Norske Folkeeventyr,
first published between 1841 and 1844
requiring dye hard adherents to fluff
up their orange hair
and douse body courtesy sunlamps
or other tanning equipment
to affect getting more than enough
emitted rays of ultraviolet (UV) radiation
(courtesy booth installed

in every congressional seat)
sycophants forever believing
unhealthy glow (viz Rudolph) never enough
while spending taxpayers money
sitting on her/his respective duff
meanwhile United States in general,
and Washington District
of Columbia in particular
(the epitome western civilization)
exemplifying City on a Hill,

a phrase derived from the teaching
of salt and light in Jesus's Sermon
on the Mount incorporated
in political rhetoric
in United States politics
that of a declaration
of American exceptionalism
to refer to America acting
as a "beacon of hope" for the world,
when suddenly such grandeur
precariously perched atop figurative bluff.

Airing thoughts - no matter aye ham
juiced one twenty first century
piddling, noodling, and muddling ape
poetic license serves
as genuine esse cape
to fly (during pitch black hours of night)
on his witch a ma call it...
to escape temporarily
the cares and concerns
of an uncertain world,
where as an outlier

from the madding crowd I gape
at forecasting sheer insanity,
where vetted trumpeting drag queens
dolled up as pansexual strumpets
while they seductively eat crumpets
soulfully bellow chilling hate
innate prejudice and senselessness purr
blind faith toward self avowed demigod –
seize ***** viz Cesar
wind blown kickstarting mobs stir
twittering paypal purchased

Monty Python's Flying Circus
pretenders smelling of musk
crowdsourcing Amazon sized
nasty and brutish bodyguards
to evict ruckus-causing murmur
oh...how the controlling fiends
will let this country
go to hell in handbasket,
and rack up stratospheric global debt
cause zing at least one
measly mortal male to fret

totalitarian rule will force every
man, woman and child to march....het
two...three...four, while the billionaire
turns a third blind eye
speeds away in his foo fighter jet
argh...heavens to Betsy,
how did fickle finger of fate let
pompous *** vacuum up majority votes
across world wide net
to finagle vox populi,

and groom hooligan nasty ruffian thugs
delivering smashed face
upon those deemed peevish pet
Long story short -
pondering my rental circumstance
will be upended if this ret
chad, evil, googly-eyed, gastronomic,
narcissistic bullish don will set
the spark for world war three -
unless....Katrina and the Waves, superman
or the Sabrina can oust him yet.

— The End —