"poltergeist" poems
I am haunted:
Not by poltergeist,
but by my unlived lives.
Parallel universes
won't ever speak,
they took an oath
to keep from me.
I have words and voices
humming in my head
that will never be met
outside of my bed.
I have to accept
I cannot have it all,
I have to accept
knowing nothing at all.
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
tunnel vision life
everything happening far away
backwards telescope
high school prom
pink & blue balloons
I walked through those doors
off the devil's wagon
like a poltergeist I was either
invisible
or a painted blood red target
Alone in the hallways
they laughed at me
a wasp-like
******
entombed in toilet paper
spit & magic marker
they didn't hate me,
they got me to hate me
everywhere I went their
gummy bioengineered shadow stalked
it was stuck on me all those years
like a bucket of pigs blood to the head
that I could never wash off
but I'm not that loser anymore
Don't worry, dea r
Lo ve me.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
Fig Newton Vanilla Wafers
Like sand through an hourglass
The smell of Doublemint Wrigley’s
Gum that lingers in the air like
Your poltergeist hanging on a string
Chicken and dumplings
Christmas at your place
There were so many pictures and
Do you remember me anymore?
Quicksand neurons coughing up
Phlegm and congestive heart failure
Diabetic membranes hooked up to pacemakers
You’re kidneys were caustic waste bins
And you ****** yourself
Cancer Cancer
Don’t shut your eyes
***** and hypertension
Hyperventilation
My mother is crying
I’m crying
Don’t die
Please don't die
"She’s not responding"
"Somebody say something"
Amazing Grace
Amazing Grace
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC
Good Day spoken in a bad austrailian accent
bad juju voodoo clear light poltergeist on disablity
Hoarding every scrap of miserable memories attached to trash
your apartment is a holiday for nightmares and childmolesters
******* magazines, old sanitary napkins , bad vhs movies
lay like dead soldiers waiting for the war to end
Black bags and boxes scattered every where are villages to rats
and every unknown pestilence you can only read about in medical textbooks.
half eaten pizzas covered in pickles dried up sadly looking at empty pills
You have no hold on me I can't understand your pain nor will i listen to your overdramatic ******** about whoever
or scheming to defraud Walmart
Your mutilation is a scar spelling sociopathic miscreant child trapped in an old mismatched shell of no clear gender.
Your diagnostic prophecies from the dsm5 dismissed like school on a snow day.
Will commands the unentanglement
uncurse
unfear
dispell all your contradictions accusations monologrhthyms
bad music choices and echoes of muttered mustard.
only truth will be uplifted
Peace be with you
whereever you are currently infesting enjoy your dora the explorer ice cream
Was there ever a floor in here?
Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 12:53 AM UTC
My eyes, will rain
tear-drops
of tequila.
When I think
about you too.
They'll run down my
dead-white,-
porcelain-poltergeist
cheeks.
To the crack,
tip of my
toilet-talk-tongue.
It should just be bitten off
& Bleeding, by itself.
Darling, you haven't been the same since you switched your scripts.
Baby,
Our hearts are soon to
be
hollowed out & holey.
Half-way gone.
Half-way to the moon-hearts.
This is not permanent but we're forever.
But the moon was full the night before.
So it has been nothing but fading with the sorrow.
&
Darling, I'll be howling at the half moon for you.
</3
Jun 8, 2012
Jun 8, 2012 at 12:56 AM UTC
Never stop and stay a night
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
For they say at the back of the cleaners room
There's a gateway in to hell
The drifts of dust with a dash of rust
Hide the prints of long dead feet
What once was plush now hangs decayed
The curtains torn and beds unmade
The worst of humankind had stayed
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
Walk away, should you ever stray
To the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
For its told an evil lingers there
No priest or witch can quell
The walls are strewn with satanic runes
There are evil clowns en suite
The bathroom tiles, black with mold
And tap heads dull with tarnished gold
But still the blood runs hot and cold
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
Not a soul survives the night
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
No single sign is left behind
Save a musty burning smell
The spiders leer, jauntily
And the mice all carry knives
There's scraping sounds amid the gloom
An Idol from an ancient tomb
With a poltergeist in every room
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
**
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
You've always seen right through me...
It's like
I'm looking into your eyes
and I see forbidden fruit...
a forbidden love
It's like
I'm staring into a mirror
trying so hard
to look for myself
but all I see is black.
Like a corpse---
It's like
I give all I have
In love with you
---Ectoplasm---
I give all I am
To be with you
To let you feel
Who I am...
----I am a poltergeist----
It's like
I'm reaching out
My hands open wide
Extended towards you
and when
you look
it's like
you don't even see me----
We hug
and it's as if
you could
almost just
pass right through me----
It's like
We love each other...
But it feels like
Necrophilia.
It's like I'm gone...
even if you're looking
straight into my smile
my smile I force myself
for you to see
it's like you're still looking---
you can't see me can you?
forcing a smile
on my face
day
by
day
do you even know
that I just smile for you
because
I'm tired of you
always crying for him
night
by
night
But you can't even
See the smile don't you?
----It's like I'm his ghost----
It's like
I'm a nightmare
and I'm haunting you
except I'm right here
always right in front of you.
------always waiting to be noticed.
always.
Waiting for you to realize
That love is not a ghost.
Love is not a graveyard.
Love is not somewhere lost.
Love is not sealed up in heaven.
Nor is it burning in the void of hell.
Love is here
Love is waiting in front of you
always----
even as you were crying for him
even as you were lying for him
even as you were fighting for him
even as you were falling for him
even as you were breaking over him
even as you were blinded by him
even as you were losing him
even as you were mourning for him...
always----
Even if I'm
the only love
you're allowed
to love,
you've never
allowed yourself
to love me...
You've always seen right through me...
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
Musing at my bedroom window
proscenium to the street scene
parents in the back room snoring
St. Michael's sandstones frowning
at poor sally shambling shuffling
from secret shadow to moonshine
bottles clanking - guilty glancing
bulging stout bag - liquor dancing.
Standing at our poet's corner
spectators pilgrims commentators.
Ectoplasmis streams rise and flare
hot heaving lungs to cold dry air.
They stare - prepare explanations
poltergeist premeditations.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
Musing at my bedroom window
proscenium to the street scene
parents in the back room snoring.
St. Michael's sandstones frowning
at poor Sally shambling shuffling
from sectret shadow to moonshine
bottles clanking guilty glancing
bulging stout bag liquor dancing.
Standing at the poet's corner
spectators pilgrims commentators
ectoplasmic streams rise and flare
hot heaving lungs to cold dry air
they star prepare explanations
poltergeist premeditations.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
"WHAT'S this?" I pondered. "Have I slept?
Or can I have been drinking?"
But soon a gentler feeling crept
Upon me, and I sat and wept
An hour or so, like winking.
"No need for Bones to hurry so!"
I sobbed. "In fact, I doubt
If it was worth his while to go -
And who is Tibbs, I'd like to know,
To make such work about?
"If Tibbs is anything like me,
It's POSSIBLE," I said,
"He won't be over-pleased to be
Dropped in upon at half-past three,
After he's snug in bed.
"And if Bones plagues him anyhow -
Squeaking and all the rest of it,
As he was doing here just now -
I prophesy there'll be a row,
And Tibbs will have the best of it!"
Then, as my tears could never bring
The friendly Phantom back,
It seemed to me the proper thing
To mix another glass, and sing
The following Coronach.
'AND ART THOU GONE, BELOVED GHOST?
BEST OF FAMILIARS!
NAY THEN, FAREWELL, MY DUCKLING ROAST,
FAREWELL, FAREWELL, MY TEA AND TOAST,
MY MEERSCHAUM AND CIGARS!
THE HUES OF LIFE ARE DULL AND GRAY,
THE SWEETS OF LIFE INSIPID,
WHEN thou, MY CHARMER, ART AWAY -
OLD BRICK, OR RATHER, LET ME SAY,
OLD PARALLELEPIPED!'
Instead of singing Verse the Third,
I ceased - abruptly, rather:
But, after such a splendid word
I felt that it would be absurd
To try it any farther.
So with a yawn I went my way
To seek the welcome downy,
And slept, and dreamed till break of day
Of Poltergeist and Fetch and Fay
And Leprechaun and Brownie!
For year I've not been visited
By any kind of Sprite;
Yet still they echo in my head,
Those parting words, so kindly said,
"Old Turnip-top, good-night!"
1.7k
She was the home-cooked apple pie I never grew up eating
The drug I never got to favorite
She was the tears I cried confusingly
The oxygen I felt I lacked
She was the poltergeist I saw down my hallway
The illness that manifested into my mental state
She was someone I haven't met but loved, like my father
The magnetic pull I could never reach
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
Let me be your poltergeist
Haunt you with my love
If there is a Spirit between us
Let it be the Holy Ghost
Embracing you
Haunting you
Holding you
Above
Everything that scares you
Anything that’s hiding
Skeletons in your closet
Fear, anxiety,
The terror of life
Sometimes just
Going outside
Let me be your poltergeist
I will be here to protect you
I will shield you from the pain
I will wake up every morning
And do it all again
When nothing seems to feel secure
When the world is crashing down
When you cannot even be sure
Let me scare these things away from you
That want to hang around
Haunt your home with light
Shoot off stars at night
Blind the things you cannot face
Smudge them out
I will erase
Anything
You
Fear
Let me be your poltergeist
Haunt you with my love
If there is a Spirit between us
Let it be the Holy Ghost
Embracing you
Haunting you
Holding you
Above
As you begin to trust
As you begin to believe in us
You will know the power
Of true love
As I
Haunt away your sorrow
Scare what will depress
Chase away your panic
Frighten out the rest
Of anything that keeps you
From being the bright light
That you are
The
Beaming
Gorgeous
Burning
Beautiful
Star
Let us fly together
Spread our light
Spread our wings
Unfold our feathers
Cradle our silver linings
Soar into our sky
Together
There is no limit
To our height
Let me be your poltergeist
Haunt you with my love
If there is a Spirit between us
Let it be the Holy Ghost
Embracing you
Haunting you
Holding us
Above
tHE tERRY tREE
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Poltergeist will vamp studio glancingly
but with their incredible sound have spun as paradise with a stone,
a record with tainted sensibility from their body strand
and upon alternate soul shall throng a hit song, reminiscent
of her, a jubilant success instantly there
that her surfer clime to farther heights
and they'll dance everyday the sun is out.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
there's something bitterly comedic about seeing you talk about trauma
like you're the victim of something great,
like you're holding all these secrets in those big, wretched, calloused hands i feel in my darkest nightmares.
poor baby, poor teddy,
oh brother,
do you feel small?
and did i feel small, hiding in closets, or under that loft bed?
under that same loft bed. hand made, white painted wood,
heart-shaped pillow, lavender dollhouse,
quiet games,
dead childhood,
stolen innocence.
come to me, cry to me,
you just lost your girlfriend,
you just lost your job,
your life all fell apart
and i am soothing you through gritted teeth
remembering how you ruined mine before it even had the chance to start.
they say
i know you don't like him but you must love him.
i wonder if blood is still blood once you've drawn it?
and i still feel like i owe it to you.
it was us against this whole dark world that left us
but you were supposed to protect me.
i should have been playing with toys,
but i was the toy.
when we went hungry i was the raw meat in your mouth.
you starved for anything you could tear into, cut up, make a mess of.
we had that holes in our couch, holes in my childhood,
"you're not on my hit list yet,"
"i'm just checking up on you" kinda brotherly love that is swept so neatly under the rug until it eats right through the floorboards.
i try to will those gaps back in my memory.
it would be so much easier if i just swallowed it right up dry, choked it down, let it digest, let it melt away to a stomach ache so i don't have to think about you.
i will scrub my skin raw at the end of this scream,
try to wash you off of me,
but this has been embedded deep in my skin for so long,
too long-
can you tell me when it started?
honest to god i don't remember.
what was it about me, soft face, soft limbs, empty mouth that made you want to hurt me?
my earliest memories exist in haunting.
my formative years are a poltergeist, you are the evil thing inside of me.
and so you come to me with stories and expect sympathy,
And i will hold my tongue in my mouth lest i feel enough like a wounded animal to try eating you alive,
pretending the iron taste of blood that floods my mouth is yours,
that i am as strong and metallic.
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 11:25 AM UTC
**Possession
came swift through the dream
it was like a foul, warm breath
hot w/ raw stench odor
rising symbol of evil
Looming like an unwanted guest
Feeding like a blood leach
vacuuming consciousness
awaiting Bodhisattva
impatiently waiting
scratching at the wall
sitting where you relax
violent, perplexed poltergeist
visions and visions and visions
Running to the other room
to observe the shrill scream
observe w/ your own two eyes
You watch your mother writhing
Whats wrong?
I'm possessed!
Your kidding?
Eyes roll back
complicated convulsion
demonic face warp
the voice morphs
into a devilish crooning baritone
*DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M ******* KIDDING!?*
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
poltergeist,
rattle my ribs, your cage
knock on my skull
remind me of when you
kissed me
quite saccharine
and bewitched me
body and soul.
charming
disarming
but faint as my breath
memories flooding from times
past
never last
and less tangible than smoke.
poltergeist,
your chilling whispers
your temperate moans
are all i have.
i cling
but i am tenuous,
nothing but a shadowy figure,
even more obscure
vague
ghostlike
than you.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC
In the time before,
I was empty, miserable inside,
A wretch whose every smile was war,
Whimpering for a curtained place to hide.
The day, desolate;
Night, in its black stillness much the same.
Pitched pain, itching for an exit,
Legs set to cease the heaving hate and blame.
Now, I feel my heart
Beating love-blest power through my chest.
Before unfelt, its bucking start
Divests the owner, all along mere guest.
Symphony, rise, crest,
Condescend to my low-sighted view.
I sleep to wake, straight-up obsessed,
Eight letters and a period for you.
Careful now, don’t jest,
Lest my past peers profitable heist,
Dethroned selves sing out through the mesh,
Anguished, set to vanquish their sole poltergeist.
So, patch; never cease
Paragon of love’s delightful dawn,
Persisting for the barest piece
Of you, the whole of why I am not gone.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
you are post-apocalyptic
cluttered with debris
ruins
under siege,
destructive.
you are filled with nothing but smoke,
I fight for you,
search for one flash of light,
for one hidden memory of brightness within you:
the lights are gone at Yonge & Bloor
the 501 to Roncesvalles has disappeared
the condo showroom at King and Blue Jays Way
is no longer filled with your hands on my hips.
you are empty,
vacant,
save for the souls of those who choose to remind me
of days long forgotten:
a hand grasped at Harbourfront,
tears littering the patchy expanse of Bellwoods,
your laugh at Queen and Dufferin.
you are a nightmare;
a poltergeist,
you are breathless
and soulless
and hopeless:
nothing
you are cavernous
Toronto –
so encompassing,
you will cut me in half
before I heal
and gain
the desire
to fight
to stay.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
By Arcassin B & fnb
AB:
I could turn a butterfly into a daffodil tear,
Growing the inside out,
Fly with me to paradise,
And forget all your peers,
Or you lose your body like poltergeist.
FNB:
Feel the soft grass glide beneath your toes
The sweet flower scent rush through your nose
To paradise together we flew,
Or from my grave, crawling back to you,
AB
And as I keep crawling,
Your loving keeps calling,
Not mad at your insecurity sometimes,
Red lights and stop signs,
Freeze in place while your ahead,
Like arriving in Oakland,
Please just follow what's along the lines,
Leave loose ends but your minds ties,
But we don't die we multiply,
We become as one,
And one in mind.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
i have watched the tectonic plates of your
personality shake and shift under the shadows
of your eyes for seven years now.
you are the child in a perpetual state of rebirth,
and i am the mother who weeps and mourns
and breaks dishes like a poltergeist.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
the man
who lives above
stomps, bangs his doors again
I wish he would realize he died
last week
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
What do I want now?
Desires come knocking,
door to door
vacuum-cleaner salesmen
pondering if I could
spend a dime of
my time deciding
whether or not to
allow my miles of
scroll and scripture to
get tangled together
with those of another
(again)
as I switch between playing
the role of the
consumer and the
mother
(again)
What do I want now?
Can I look to the stars
or consult the seeing cards?
I can't help but
sprint down the
slippery summer streets,
calling out the songs of
Renaissance bards when the
universe is singing our praises and
we're singing them back, oh
cut me some slack and
I'll cut you a track of
my latest attack on
society's lack of wanting to
wait and see what blooms in
the forest of discarded facts,
figures, and old slacks worn
by the dead while they
bury my head underground with
feet dangling in the air.
What do I want now?
Will the willpower to
state with a proud (and
preferably legs-spread-
shoulders-back-
neck-straight) stance that
just maybe I might be
better off with bug bites and
a bitter taste in my mouth when-
ever I see couples kissing than a
stinking fascination with the
feeling of fingertips on femurs and
eyelids fluttering in
metronome timed fervor.
What do I want now?
For lady luck to walk in
disguised as a molten lava
poltergeist with electric sides
pulling me in, my
north to her south,
to whisper, "Don't forget:
permission permanently granted to
project that voice and
protect that mouth."
What do I want now?
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
My
poltergeist
needs
a
TV
he
just
can't
stop
streaming
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 9:32 AM UTC
I can tell she's been drinking by the discarded lemon skins dripping on the counter.
I clock them at quarter to three, or nine fifteen
and the clock reads ten past twelve, or zero zero one zero on the digital.
There's a dead energy, like watching a spider stand statuesque,
giving you the anticipation of feeling your skin crawl
when its threadbare limbs stroke the polished surface of your wooden floor
and the simultaneous begrudgement that it isn't instead rotting in a bed of decomposing soil.
The windows are unrelenting slabs of black
and the only light is a twisted regurgitation of the scene behind me,
a mocking parallel universe that blocks me from the outside of this hollow house.
I hear laughter lightly bouncing off the back walls
and I see, through God's black humour as it feels a miracle,
a light through the window, bobbing up and down through the movement of some silhouetted poltergeist -
the consumed, burning end of a cigarette.
And the light transfixes me, in all its seductive intoxication
as its products curl gently against the absorbent tissue of my mother's throat,
because it penetrates the darkness outside;
because black silence encloses me as it is pulled backwards
and is then broken when it is rocked forwards and laughter once again stains her nicotine-kissed lips;
because that bobbing light in our shadowed, rotting garden holds more power in that moment than either of us.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC