"poltergeists" poems
When clocks strike twelve and trainings end
— lurk not, they say, in school at night.
Age-old stories tell of how there’re
things that throng in fluorescent light.
In toilets silence screeches loud,
for when school’s empty, they arise:
Ghosts of pregnant girls lie wailing,
with cleaner-uncle poltergeists.
For now I sit on chilling white,
resounding prayers in my mind;
my heart racing with dire wish
a friend of Casper’s I won’t find —
Then eeeeeeek!
Is that a door creaking?
Perhaps it stemmed from my own mind,
Hinges sing as they fly open!
Thou who entered, oh be my kind!
A thud thud thud as shoes traverse
across the glinting marble floor;
and louder,
louder as they get
much nearer to my sacred door!
THEN SILENCE
or so I wish!
But a loud knock takes my breath away.
The unlatched bolt lies there lazing
HOW’D I FORGET TO LOCK TODAY?
A hand thrusts in so hard and swift,
door’s open ‘fore I can react!
I’m facing now a girl my age,
She bawls at me with little tact —
Eyes bloodshot and tummy bloated,
“YOU DISGUSTING PIG! HOW DARE YE?!”
I dash out of the girls’ toilet
before she tries to castrate me.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
They teach you in school that the building blocks of life and matter are atoms filled with subatomic particles
But believe me when I tell you that they're lying.
"They" are claiming to be your saviors from what is actually fueling your bloodstream.
Protectors of your sanity
But believe me when I tell you it's fraud, a scheme of words that are meant to prevent you from discovering the actual monsters buried beneath your fingernails and hidden in the cracks of your bones.
You see, what the evildoers trains the neurons in your brain to understand is that the demons in your skin cells are atoms filled with subatomic particles.
This is what you know and you know it for a fact until the time comes for the poltergeists within you to attack.
They line up and pluck away at the petals of your once "protected" sanity one by one until you're convinced he loves you not.
Your defense has been destroyed and the demons flood in with no intention to come back out.
The swarms of beasts taking over every aspect of your being is what is now going to cause a new feeling called "numbness."
Your last memory of peace is permanently shattered.
This is called growing up, kids.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
how can we know where lovers go
or when they take the notion
to stop the flow and try to slow
the rhythm of the ocean.
we cannot seek to reach this peak
or lift above that sea,
we are too weak to mug the meak
of their sincerity.
we are alone, together and free.
and here's some stream of thought (that just so happens to rhyme, kinda)...
loopy arousal.
lofty appraisals.
disabled and taken for granted.
in the eyes of the dead,
instead of the usual red,
we decided on green
to dress the scene.
the sound man listened.
the light man leered.
the chef was cooked.
i'm hooked.
heaved on to me like voyeurism
and sought like publishers.
distasteful? yes.
useful. yes.
knowledgeable? sometimes.
lurid trysts and poltergeists
expounding.
multiplication escapes me.
pen and paper **** me.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
When I was young,
I was afraid of the night.
I believed it was
home to ghosts, poltergeists
and all kinds of frights.
Just the absence of light
sends shivers to my spine.
As I grew up, I've come
to love the night.
It makes me feel alive.
All of my emotions revive.
and my words drive
to self-proclaimed beauty.
But the thing that I
most appreciate,
is that this is the time
that I get to you.
The only time
I can see your smile
shine bright.
Brighter than the
gleaming moonlight.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Diary,
I am a ghost. I don't know how long I've been this way, but It's my reality.
I've smiled with people who can't see me. I've laughed and made conversation with shadows. Sometimes you forget that you can't be seen...or heard...or even thought of.
I like to watch people live -- questioning the actions and thoughts they feel. Oh, yeah, I can hear their thoughts. Vile and sweet...mixed into a bowl like candied poison.
Sometimes I get lonely. It can get bad...like...really bad. Have you ever wondered why ghosts get so aggressive?... You probably know them as poltergeists. That's when we get so tired of being alone...something comes over us...
It's not like we see each other...no...ghosts are solemnly solitary, unfortunately.
So...yes, there you have it...something I wanted to get off of my chest -- the nonexistent one.
I am an utterly, unfortunate, miserable, somber, quiet, insane, and hurt Ghost.
You're welcome.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
Broken
Empty
I feel naked
Ashamed
My heart is exposed and my weaknesses are there
In everyone's eyes
My darkness only blinds me
I hear people laughing diabolically
Planning ways to use my flaws
I feel people getting too close
I cannot stop them
My wall is down, my broken arms
Cannot build a new one
I cannot run anymore
Cannot oppose them
I can't cover my nakedness.
My mind has become a blank page
I don’t know who I am anymore
I am lost
In the darkness I feel that I've never existed;
In my thoughts I see
Things that are not supposed to be here
Bitter words are flying in my brain
There’s a cold wind in my soul
I am getting cold
Like Andersen’s Little Match Girl
Dreaming hopelessly about some arms that could make me warm.
I hurt
I'm hunted by poltergeists,
With my bleeding hands I dig my own hole in the ground,
I hide in it
I close my eyes
I feel that I'm dying, but I know
I am only sleeping.
I can only hope that I will soon wake up from this nightmare
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
A
stirring
rendition
by orchestral
digestive specters,
little poltergeists wielding bows against heartstrings;
play on, little daemons! Make music that grinds
the brain to a halt, resolute and unyielding.
Sphere of Severity, for which one pillar
of the Tree of Life is named, burn!
Be the coal in my gut; I'll fan thy flame
to ashes - firm in my lust to speak against.
For in my years I have learned that it is suicide
to do aught but listen to my belly - who knoweth better
than I ever will - exactly
when it is the right
time for me
to say
no.
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 10:12 AM UTC
Your portrait carved on my soul
—burning masterpiece lasting forever—
I feel your eyes on my chest
you wrote your name on my lips
for forever
I wake up with swollen eyes
—make up won't ever cover up
the pain I carry—
I feel
black holes swallowing me whole
I get lost in old books no one reads any more
I am a ghost
wandering in a nebulous world
I fight daily for a slice of air
I'd stab the sky and drink its blood
if it would bring me a crumb of life
regrets
they haunt me like poltergeists
can't sleep at night
their sound is so loud
everything I've done
comes before my eyes
I can't breathe
I want to make it stop
I've kissed devils believing I was buying love
I've ran miles and miles trying to reach the horizon
I've cried tears
and tears
and tears
trying to forget what wasn't mine to love
I've haunted black birds disguised in the angels of the night
I've kept the dirt in my pockets believing it was gold
I've walked to the light
but it was just a fire burning me whole
I've turned into devil then into angel
and demon and angel and so on
I've let myself fall believing I would land on clouds—
the ground, it broke my bones—
I've drank all the glasses of poison in the world
I've eaten sorrow as dessert
I've lost my soul
my brain is shattered
my lips bleeding
my arms longing
and still
nothing is as bad as the fact
that I've never shown you
my true heart
and how much
I
love
you
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
The Laws of Physics say
That Everyone Dies
And is Gone:
Every blade of grass, insect, man and woman.
Every sentient being.
From Big Bang to Big Whatever.
They all Die.
Yet is there more than this?
Something of the spirit.
More than ghosts
And poltergeists.
An afterlife
In Heaven.
Another Realm.
Some say that when you die
You re-join The One Being,
Let’s call it “God”.
Your individuality may be gone,
But you become part of that Super-Consciousness,
The One,
And thus Remain.
The logic of this is frightening:
It means that I am part of God,
Just going through a phase
We call Life,
In readiness for
For Ever.
You too are part of God
And logic dictates
That I am my own Mum and Dad,
My sister, friends and everyone else:
Mother Theresa, ****** Shakespeare
And Eddie The Eagle.
I am a wasp, a lion, a dolphin, a tree
Maybe even a germ.
Another poet
Commenting on my poems.
I’m even You.
Better get on with it then.
I’ve got plenty to do!
Paul Butters
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
Do the malevolent poltergeists of my past haunt your benevolent spirit?
When I ride through my ghost-towns like an old west gunslinger,
Will the ricochets shatter your fragile glass house?
If I slash through phantom limbs, is it your blood that I spill on the altar of revenge?
Do all the periods of falling leaves and sundowns I spend at the graveyard
Will away the only real wisps of life I know?
Dec 22, 2023
Dec 22, 2023 at 7:56 PM UTC
the worst that could happen?!
a meteor could hit the earth
at this very moment
and stop me dead in my tracks
speaking of tracks
two trains could collide
right now and cause
mass destruction
really, it's just a terribly inconvenient time
i couldn't possibly-
the black plague,
the bird flu,
terrorists,
poltergeists!
so there really is no reason for me to
go over there and interrupt him
with so many dangers lurking about-
nausea
heart burn
indigestion
upset stomach
and oh, god strike me
dead if i must even imagine
what else!
the four horsemen
of the apocalypse
could decide to
come upon us right now,
and you want me
to go up to him and
say hello?!
honestly, you really must
get your priorities in order.
(but the very worst that could happen?
he could say no.)
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
Tis a full blood moon
Shining in a witches eye
The ****** winds blow crossways
As the hour draws nigh
The ghosts rattle their wispy chains
Soulless red smiling demons scream
The night of all nights the poltergeists whisper
Haunting voices that cannot be seen
Black dressed hags riding brooms star high
Cackling cast their spells
Halt the waves of time
Those who speak no more in coffins
When commanded would rise
For it’s a full red moon
In a witch’s eye.
When the creatures of darkness
Frolic round an enchanted fire
The dance of the werewolves continued
So the cold night tells
Not a single trace will ever be found
Where those of the underworld dwell
Gaze deeply into the dancing flames
But beware, careless humans,
Of that which may be seen
When orange goblins of the blood moon
Celebrate Hallows Eve
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Oct. 9, 2017.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 10:50 AM UTC
Tonight the poltergeists will come
And rip you out of bed,
And pound your walls, and drum your door,
And hammer in your head,
And leave you writhing still alive,
Though rather you'd be dead.
But fear not these; they merely prank;
Instead the demon fear
That frightens away the poltergeists
Whene'er it doth appear,
And screams a scream that makes to bleed
A stream each mangled ear.
It comes for you, your soul to possess;
And I do sadly tell,
You have no chance yourself to save;
So, sleep, and sleep you well—
Enjoy another tender dream
Before you're dragged to Hell.
O.O
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
Across the lake
(Might as well be the sea)
Anxious as me
She sits ****** at the screen
As I do the same, here.
There's yet a year to endure
this sealed cellar
where I'm free to speak to ghosts
and she goes dancing with poltergeists
I can bring a tear to gods' eyes
but can't hold out
in this asphalt stew
away from She.
Vitamins and teas to calm me
Friends to show me shadow-girls
No satiety, no appetite
But alone! Alone! Alone!
The self-spinning mantra
of bedroom-bound boys
Manchildren womanless after sewing hearts together
The bleating goat gives birth to the stench of atoms.
Who or what is it all about?
Alone! Alone! Alone!
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
Echoes ring through my head
Making it ache
Ghosts and ghouls and poltergeists
Appear from nowhere
It's all in my head
It's all in my mind
That's why I can't bear sleep tonight
Echoes play over like movies
Sight, touch, taste, sounds, smells, emotions
On replay
You wonder why my head aches
It won't go away
The ache
Someone take the knife out of my bleeding love
Please
I'm done
But the echoes play on and on
Save me
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
With eyes narrow from fatigue
And worries, I gaze at the
Traces of time on my bedroom
Ceiling.
Cracks and flaking paint.
Do nightmares and dreams
Leave their imprints
In wood, like silent poltergeists
Remembered; collected;
Guarded; stored?
Invisible scars on dead surfaces.
So unlike those on me
That she finds with drowzy
Fingertips in the dark,
When I visit and cannot
Sleep from the alien music
Of the Oslo City night. It
Lacks the sound of wind
In trees playing with leaves
That usually make up my
Bedtime soundtrack.
I awoke from dreaming she'd
Left me; driving away with
Some ex and not looking back.
I ran until my
Legs buckled. Ran after her.
I sure hope her poor walls
Don't remember.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
you left
and took
everything
yet you leave
your unwanted
things in my
messy room
your red lipstick
stains on my
white pillowcases
resemble blood
and flowing
heartbeats
your records
still play on
the radio
at 3 am
when i am
at my loneliest
and my insomnia
brings me
no dreams,
only half-awake
nightmares
your image
is present
in every single
corner of my
daydreams
and the wind
still whispers
your poetry
into my
open windows
like an unending
symphonic
torture
these ghost
memories have
done nothing
but haunt me
of what could
have been
and we both
know these
poltergeists
will live
longer than
i will
because they
feed off of
my longing
and i know
i will still
love you
even past
death
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
The cold is nipping at my heels again
For two days I have been deluded into
Thinking that Autumn
May actually feel like Autumn
Rows of the skeletons I have shut up in my
Cabinets are now standing bare and silent
Along the horizon; they taunt, they mock
The few leaves they have managed to
Hold on to sway in the chill and
Shudder when I walk past
Three deer creep up to the patio
I watch them behind my safe place
My window is my protective cover
From all that is outside and out of my
Control
Frost sneaks up the wood paneling and
The faint laughter from the school children
Fades into a maniacal howl
Soon the snow will cover the tracks of
The poltergeists who visit me at night
In white robes blanketing their voices,
They surround me and pierce my dreams
Visions of violent assault and grief and
Helplessness
of Seasonal Affective Disorder
Winter steals my Indian summers and
Whips me with brutal cold and sleet
Warm afternoons turn into car accidents
And black ice and broken people
Soon the snow will present itself
And the sunlight will fade from my eyes
So let me sleep until spring.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
I suppose it is not true as it always is
A lifetime of finds to live and let live
Multitudes of perspectives begging to forgive
I would rather have a grave to dig
I am ****** up in the head
And I know this since my mother inspires me to write
About death and fights and poltergeists seeking my soul to feed their fires
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
seven poltergeists
in seven homes
inopportune
the world and its coasts
and when the tide rolls in alone
will you be there?
a nightless time
a moonless month
sleepless, smiling
watch fear run
with its tail between its legs
when the sirens wail
when hell's lid is popped
you'll be there
honeymooning,
swooning
stay, then
sway your life away
let the ghosts haunt your home
pull the fragile waist
of your misfortune close
take the dance
by its pensive hands
it is a parasite
and you are a gracious host for it
fresh, lockstep
pseudo-symbiotism
I know no one would ever tell you otherwise.
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
Night crawls like lizards
with tongues of opalescent horror
Sleep is a blanket on someone else's bed
and I jolt and gasp like she had
connected by that plastic tube
to a life finally withdrawn
Sleep is torn from my lungs which choke on fears that close around me as coal dust
and all I see in the dark are the
worst things she suffered
from cancer's tongues of horror
Then radiance reaches from your woken soul and you recite Quran over me
like a Southern faith healer
with laying on of hands
They slither away from the light you've conjured and I sleep oh I sleep
Daylight memories appear as camera flashes
petty poltergeists easily banished
Yet darkness always follows day as an anxious housemaid
Memories slip their skins and crawl from discarded scales again where they shouldn't
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 1:02 AM UTC
It was a small
white plastered walled
room
where I sat alone
studying French
before the bell
would sound
and send me home.
Cracked bits of plaster fell
turning to smoke
as they hit the floor
making a thin white mist
of dirt that exposed
a hidden figure.
A silk specter,
she moved through the air
as if gravity
wasn’t even there.
A beautiful swirling
nightmare
swimming in
this stale atmosphere
Dangerous hands
that could caress gently
or strangle menacingly.
Better than the bitter
poltergeists
that haunted
Hollywood screens,
cause she was
far more fascinating.
Undefined
mistress of
lost minds,
who lost time
trying to find
some sort of meaning.
I watched her
confused
and amazed
at the sight displayed
as she played
in some sort of
ethereal realm
allowing me
to see.
all of her
abstract majesty,
but just as quickly
she evaporated.
I do not think
anyone will believe
this strange story
so, I made it in to poetry.
Hopefully
she will come back
and haunt me
some day in the future.
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC
There's a ghost in my house
More like a polterge/ist.
I've never seen it myself
But I know it's there.
I can feel it's e)nergy lingering,
When I come back there's stuff
Just laying around.
Stuff that I just put awa¥y.
Stuff that is^n't even mine.
There's a polterge\ist in this house
I saw IT once or tw;ice.
There's more than one
They're ¿friendly enough.
Still, they intrude on my life
But I can't get r¡id of them.
I just want ever@ything back to normal.
So I left.
There are poltergeists in that house
Just d0own the r:oad from the bus stop.
They all live happily together
With a# woman
Whose children have all grown.
Except one, the daughter
She lingers in limbo
Waiting for her home.
Maybe
she was the
poltergeist
All
¿¡ %'£ '÷×£-,!!;$@)
along?
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
inherently demoted
passion waning in Stonehenge
studying the ancestors below me
(abhors me)
no longer needing the satisfaction, i'm guessing
you'll be needing the ever after
when clinging to the clingfilm of thy emotion
lust for the green light of capitalist torsion
but we're fine,
we made it
we're rosemary
and thyme
did she even make it through or did she just forget me
altogether, i get why she'd renounce me
the pretty lady now's in paralysis
international
clinging onto
the crevices
of the menaces
of the surrogates
mind shifting through plain fields of evergreen men
bottles upon bottles of ***** autumn drinks
guilty smokes, alternative facts and poltergeists
cloud my gaze
renounce my place
forgotten wee daisies were born in this place
but i didn't
and i don't
sister is trembling
sorry, she's alone
repenting for foreign perversions
preventing the invasion of thy nation
crossing the borders with thy translation
simply insane,
simply old age
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 8:26 AM UTC