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Paras Bajaj Oct 2017
I am alone.
With just some people I'm moving on.
Some talk less, some talk a lot.
I don't know if they are friends or not.

I am alone.
With some fears I'm moving on.
Some are scary, some are not.
I don't know if they are real or not.

I am alone.
With some deep wounds I'm moving on.
Some hurt more, some hurt less.
I don't know if they will heal or not

I am alone.
With a fake smile I'm moving on.
Sometimes looks good, sometimes not.
I don't know if it works or not.

I am alone.
With some burdens I'm moving on.
Some are huge, some are little.
I don't know if I will repay or not.

I am alone
With some secrets I'm moving on.
Some can save me, some can lead me to death.
I don't even know my remaining breaths.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
Jeff Gaines Oct 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback. I will be building my Author page tonight (12/21/2018) and my website finished first thing Monday!

Find the book(s) here:

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here:

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!
Big, Biggest Love,
        Jeff Gaines
My first ever venture into horror. But ... it's not what you think!

Were you fooled all along or did you figure it out before the end? I'd love to hear your comments.

That's all I'm gonna say. I hope you have had and are having a safe a fun Halloween!
TerryD'ArcyRyan Oct 2018
the pull of a stare
a flicker of sparks
eyes meet so sweet
caught in the stare
cheek to lips a gentle brush
desire delivers in the click of a lock
hands clutch tight on your neck
a gripping strength, a slow squeeze
the mind dazed, a hunt to breathe
hardwired impulse, to a raw surging force
reaching, touching, the rise stricken
claws at hands in a grip
the steadfast capture
enforce of an iron reap
the heat and hiss of a monster
sounds a sharp slice in your ear
tears fall for God’s wretched care
the kiss dry's upon your cheek  

final is so clear
a silent suffocation
an impression sincere
pain defends the will to suffer
wounds heal and fade
separates the mind free to fear
a look of your outline is everywhere
turning quick to catch the heavy stare
caught off guard bows down to despair
the power deprived is no longer mine
broken twisted places it deep inside
drowning beneath a shallow surface
paralyzed by the danger of your kiss
stopped by a red light remembrance
fingers still search and retrace
the dignity ravaged in a waste
incapable of trust
I live buried alive
I look for you everywhere
I sleep on the furthest edge of a cliff
I wake trespassing the abyss

   Terry D'Arcy-Ryan
Mya Jan 26
He hides in my closet
he has a scary look
with ridged nails
and pointy sharp white teeth

But he is shy and doesn't come out
till nightfall
when no one can see him
because he is insecure
and he doesn't want to be made fun of
by the other monsters who wander around

Every time I hear him come out
he is humming a tune
I would softly request him to sing
because I cannot sleep
when he would open his mouth

Wonderful words would come out
sounding excellently in tune
even though there was no background music
in my head, his singing sounded like a symphony
was playing the most lovely melody

If I could I would stay up all night
till dawn
when he would retreat back into the closet
I would listen to him all night

But as he sings
the melody floods me
and my eyes can not stay open
as I slip into a deep slumber
I would still hear him singing

When I wake up
my room is soundless
I would look in my closet to see if he is there
but he is hidden
where I cannot find him
AM Sep 1
the scariest part of a storm isn’t the rain
the wind
or the lightning

it’s the thunder

the wind and the rain are normal. they’re expected and known.

the lightning is scary but is over as soon as it starts

thunder is the reminder. the loudest part. the deep rumble of anger. the outburst of passion. it strikes fear into the innocent. and unease into the not.

thunder can’t physically hurt us. but it doesn’t stop the fear from thinking it can.

because maybe he will
karin naude Mar 2013
talent truly follows hard work and dedication
re-reading the words of my soul
i could have been great by now
non the less i found my voice again
hidden among the dust of time
entering from the cold night
field of forgotten memories at the back
running forward the future calls
may i be great with hard work and endurance

its scary people will see my soul
the words will echo my struggles
my demon relived and revealed
over and over and over
is this really what i want?
Philomena Apr 25
She thrashes violently
She can't awake
Can't get away
So she fights like her life depends on it
Maybe she's squirming under the weigh of an invisible monster
Or another dream filled with death
No matter the subject
I hold her in place
Cradle her to stop the movement
I call her name over and over
Until she joins the world again
Syv Elena Aug 2018
I like to play horror games
Amnesia was the first one I played
The monsters were scary
The envoirement was eerie
But if I'd call the monster Steven
Instead of scared I'd be merry

Steven was such a funny guy
He looked funny
He walked weirdly
Nothing of him would terrify

The only time he'd scare me was when I'd open the door
Sometimes the jumpscare would make me fall to the floor

Many years I have played these games
Even though I was scared, in the end I'd be okay

That was until I stood next to my brother
He was not yet in his grave
This experience was like no other
It crashed on me like a giant wave

I'd never seen him lay so still
It was hard but I wanted to try
Though I knew it could only go downhill
I wanted to touch his hand one last time

I lowered my body and reached out my hand
I was pretty sure he would scare me right then & there
But my brother didnt move, not even a hair

And I realized at that moment how much I wanted that jumpscare
I lost my brother back in February to suicide. Back then I didn't have the words to say what happened when I stood in that room with my best friend. I told her when I lowered my body that I was waiting for a jumpscare I knew would never happen.

It were very tough times.
To be honest, I still can't handle it.
Stephen E Yocum Jul 2017
I rolled out of bed
to start my day,
but the power was off
my all electric home,
as still as a grave.
No coffee, or toast.
The refrigerator not cold,
the freezer started dripping
the contents soon to spoil.

No computer, no cell phone service!
I began sweating profusely,
no air conditioning to cool me.
Not even a TV Emergency Broadcast Alert,
to release this uneasy feeling of topsy-turvy .

I drove into town seeking a pay phone,
with not a single one to be found,
gone the way of the dinosaurs,
extinct now too I assumed.

My old truck had no computer chips,
most cars did and were dead in their tracks.
I needed gas but the gas station pumps
electric computer driven, all DOA to boot.

The Nations electric grid had crashed,
blacked out, stone cold dead everywhere.
All heavenly satellites blacked out, expired.
Everything computer related (and
that is about everything), had ceased
to function as had the electronic reliant
world we had created.  

The street throngs of dazed people walked
around like zombies, clutching blacked out
dead computer devices, knowing not what to do.
Not even talking, forgotten I guess how to do that too.
As dependently defectively programmed as the useless
devices in their hands.

In a panic I did awake finding that
this scary dream world was indeed all fake,
a nightmare of fearful unconscious thinking.
My electric clock was still churning,
It's music alarm blaring,
birds outside still singing,
my cell phone started ringing,
it was merely another Robot call,
Welcoming me back to the 21 century.
Imagine if you can some man made device or solar flare
knocking out all the satellites in space and computers on
earth, then this nightmare is not so far-fetched.
I actually did have this unsettling dream. The possibility
of this reality does indeed exist.
shaun Dec 2018
my cards are on the table
don’t call my bluff, i’m already baring all
no tease
i want you to know -

my stomach drops along with the temperature
the weight of winter is unbearable
my heart hurts now yours cannot
i feel for you
i care like you

i have lived, felt, experienced
i don’t wish to hurt
Any More

help me feel bliss
the wind through my hair
a snowflake on my tongue
not a dagger through my heart
or another hit at the happiness i have
another left; another lost

if not on my sleeve
where would i wear my heart
messy and needs refining but I am tired and worn and things are hard and scary and I just want to feel okay
Lewis Irwin Sep 2018
Sometimes in a quite room I hear screaming,
Screams so evil; the sounds of a Demon.
I try drown the sound but music is only so loud,
Then the ringing starts stinging my ear drums as they pound.

I'm not hearing voices or mutter of words,
It doesn't make my choices but it does make me hurt.
Maybe it's a dead man; in anger for all I've done wrong,
Or maybe it's a dead man; singing his last song.

Perhaps I need help 'cause when I think I can't see,
I hear people in pain; or are they angry at me?
Is there someone trapped and lost in my brain?
Or have I finally snapped and lost it; and gone insane?
When I sit in a quiet room and concentrate on the silence, I feel like someone is screaming in my ears.
Ilunga Mutombo Aug 2018
Hashtag my soul away, so many can see it
I’m waving my hands saying hey look at me
Posting pics, statuses and videos
Can’t do it quietly
I want them all to See
Envy me and make me their fantasy
A few likes on this post is not enough
I deserve to get liked like I’m roylaty
adore me while you stare at the pictures
I spent hours cropping, adding more filters to guard my insecurities
Before I hashtag it, I dress it with perfection
Cut out any ugliness, clean up the mess
Show the world purity
because if they see the negative
their words will expose my insecurities
Behind this screen I found a secured me
That is the side I only want them to see
So I hastag popular tags so they can all see
The better side of me
I'm no friend to open doors
that welcomes useless guests
This house forbid these tiled floors
be stepped by pesky pests

But now I open all my gates
and windows on my skin
Invite all monsters that awaits
then let the devil in
It first was fun for me. I just had to ruin it
Logan Robertson Jul 2018
A black crow's darting eyes
spans the wheat field
and an orange pumpkin patch.
She sees
tall grasses of brown
bristling in the wind,
soon to be bushels of grain
and a pumpkin pie that she never savored.
She sits, atop her tree perch,
at times warm and storybook,
hidden by tree branches,
and at times out of harm's way
and infamy.
Her friends, the sun, and clouds in concert,
dancing along.
Her other friends bring alms and smiles.
Life is so good at times.
Down the road sits a mill
next to a waterfall
and a cabin,
with reindeer horns
hanging above the doorway.
She is in her element, happy,
carrying for her nestlings.
Back and forth her parental eyes dart
the hilly fields, a smoked filled chimney, and her babies,
all crawling with sustenance and awe.
A mother feeding a worm to her baby.
Off to her side is not a blind eye
watching her,
scary stick figures of
straw tucked under red shirts and hats,
with a tied tinfoil strips dotting
her eyes and tease.
Scarecrows, cease.
At times life is good nature, hand in hand,
knock on wood.
If only life could be circumspect.
Than darkness filling the light
and a stutter of life.
For a sad page is turned,
... tears.
Then, feathers fall.
The sound of a thud.
Silence and tears of her friend's swelling.
A baby's cry, missing her mother.
More orphaned tears.
Who would be this despicable?
On that rogue day.
A kick of a donkey,
an ***,
one bad rock on her path,
breaks the air,
as three little elementary kids were walking along
to school.
One, me, with a rock in his hand,
taking aim at her perch
and the death of the black crow's pages.
I confess.
... Bless me, Father, for I have sinned
it has been fifty years since
my last confession ...
a Tom Sawyer-like childhood gone worse.
I repent.
Some fifty years later I think of those first cairns,
including stealing the reindeer horns and milling
my brother and sister's storybook.
stream tears, and a sorry boat
rowed downstream

Logan Robertson

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