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A horror movie scene as the heroine escapes.
Everything is still besides her convalescing breath and the distant, chasing wind.
Not a noise is heard except the fall leave's rattle and the birch wood's moaning bark in the moonlight.
Her body slouches into the protection of a lone shed, and shrouds itself in the aroma of cut grass.
A tense brow relieves and tired eyes close, thankful to receive the momentary peace.

A possible misstep turns the wary peace on end with the jagged cut of broken leaves. The once relieved brow now concedes surprise as wild eyes are cast towards an opaque barricade.
Sly pieces of garden equipment leash the woman's weathered jacket in place as she attempts to stand.
A cackle is heard, a shriek undone.
To spite the brittle wood, that formulaic jump-scare-skeleton-hand bursts through the shed's solicitous walls, set to declare the last of a weary soul as his own.
The wind catches up and spearheads any hole it can find.
It begins whistling around the dim room like a tornado elated to havoc behind a castle's walls.
The tree bark howls, the leaves, now delight.
We learn there is no reprieve for a begging champion.
The camera slowly backs out of the splintered hole, and pans over a silhouetted forest to face the waning moon.
The hero succumbs with muted screams to a gore far below and out of frame.

Our only closure, a silky black screen, with bright white letters, slowly scrolling up.


The end.
Just something I had fun writing, figured not posting it would be a waste despite it not being "poetry", just an experiment I guess. I feel like it would be good, in like, a high-school, short story competition. *****.
Andrew Oct 2017
I have secret skeletons
That haven't seen the Sun
From things supposedly fun
Now all they do is make me run

Skeletons exit my closet
And enter my jury box
All of whom I've met
Then put behind locks
Now they throw rocks
Or find ways to mock
They are ruthless
Until I'm toothless

I face a skeleton jury
I face the skeletons' fury
They seek vengeance
Or perhaps repentance
I play lawyer in my mind
This job has become full time
And I must laboriously linger
Through skeleton stingers
Until my mind is rattled
By skeleton saddles

They come from my past
To shatter my glass
The skeletons are attacking
My bones are cracking
Under their weight
They are my freight
They judge me
And begrudge me

I made many moronic mistakes
I left laying at the bottom of lakes
Now they are at the surface
Of my fruitless furnace
Skeletons remain
Like a stain
I look across the plain
To see skeletal rain
Precipitated by my dumb decisions
Droplets make numerous incisions
Each one callously cutting me to the bone
Until the skeleton jury is my humble home
hand
grasping other
has-been hands
life
I'll split galaxies
they break
cherry lips
dead men
(redemption)
def leopard
dead-- beats
&
radishes
hovering
out of life
&
in
to
purgatorial
dreams
of
****
death
(bare--
skeleton)
JaxSpade Aug 2018
You left me to the ground
And took my skin
Along with the evidence
Of us

You fled
And left me skinny
An old man
Robbed of many years
Sacrificed

I am bones

Just a skeleton
Without a heart
That's somewhere
Out of me
Apart from any lungs

I am empty
And I won't breathe
I don't feel anything
Since the day you dug my grave

You left me to the ground
Then took my skin
And that's when I became
A skeleton
Katelyn Billat Nov 2017
She took the joy.
She took him.
She killed me in the process.
My carcass decayed.
I was left for dead
But life began to make
Its way through me again.
Coneflowers sprouted from my ribcage.
Vines began to tangle up my spine.
Lilacs grew through my skull
I was alive again
with new strength and a
Bliss that came from within.
Lizzy Sep 2014
Mommy told me about her dream
I looked like a skeleton
And she was begging me to eat
She really did
Jeanette Jul 30
When on my most desolate path
That needed not just
Sprucing up
But overhauling
Not a sprinkler
But an intensive one
Gentle and Constant

You pruned my thorns
And witheredness
Dug a bit to root out
Skeletons and brokenness
Strew a big chunk of compost
Covering deep depression
Gently soothed with saltless tears
And Oh so Constantly
Compost here stands for compassion affection love
Saltless tears : water. Support to let one grow to fullness again.
zebra Feb 2017
forgive me my darling
hollow beauty
but seeing you so gaunt
with
sunken dark eyes
and skin like gray soap
makes me feel
your easily breakable
already so close to death
my **** could crack your pelvis
and bird delicate ribs

inspired skeleton dancing
your body exclaims to all
a sensual exhibition
of slow suicide
my bloodless blossom
brave breatharian
your favorite math
subtraction
by multiplied
delicious starvations

you may need a strong man
deaths final instrument
who will love you
with tender crushes
darkly ******

come naked
spread wide my lovely grotesque
nestle in my arms
coffins embrace
to be bruised
while tremulously kissed
i will turn you to crumbles and powder
to finish sweetly
what you have started so long ago
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, not judge me, although i admit to my paraphilias  
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
Empty and Full of nothing but dry bones
No senses or feelings left for me to hold

Lifeless and Dead, like the expressions it left me
Every emotion drained like blood. No more breathes left to breathe

It ignores, it is hard, and the dead body is cold
The warmth and love has been stripped away as skin unfolds

But I stay by it still... although it is avoiding the very aspect of living
I know these bones can come alive. Please be forgiving

Laying in broken bony pieces, but yet beautifully organized and created.
Dead inside, but once majestically living and related

Although I have been left behind with the skeleton that remains
I know it can come back to life with the very call of its name

Feelings abandoned, and touches now feeling decayed.
I still have hope... so I will not dig its grave.

You will come back from the dead...
And you will learn to talk... and learn to feel again
I am now left with the Skeleton that remains




Wowwwwww i actually wrote something decent... gees it's late I need to go to bed gosh... also... I'm back yayyyy.. we will see when the next poem comes...

This poem is based on a skeleton dragon someone bought for me XD
Austin Sessoms Nov 2016
inside me are organs
inside my cells are organelles
inside me are organelles
they are mine
they are me
they are composed of atoms
they are composed of protons, neutrons, electrons.
protons are mine
they are me
neutrons are mine
they are me
electrons are mine
they too are me
electrons and mitochondria and kidneys
are me
I am me
bone comprises skeleton
marrow comprises bone
bone and skeleton are me
marrow too is me
I feel this in my self
I feel this in my bones
bone feels this in my marrow
bone and I share marrow
There’s a Devil of a night each year, the night of Mr. Haim!
When the devilish and ghoulie ones come out to play their monster’s game.
And why some would seek to trick or treat on this scary day of dead?
Careful now cause gremlins, trolls …sprites and wolves, will offer up their dread!
Quiet, shush, I hear a pack of creepy-crawly boots…

Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo!
And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.

That crafty-smith of horns and hooves is spying on these kiddies,
As Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo are hunting strays to do their dastardly-ditties.
Quiet, shush, I hear a pack of creepy-crawly boots,
And their costumes, oh-so-foul, the evilest of suits!
And there she is, that little girl who can’t keep up, in a tasty mushroom ensemble.
And the skeleton bones clink in her path to give her quite a tomble!

Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo!
And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.

And Sammy Haim, that smithy-devil, a ***** hoof -igniting ghoul’s desire,
He’s howling out, demanding now, “Put that child to the fire!”
And little does he know, no little bit, not even a small clue,
Neither Ra’atan-Zu nor Boogedy-Boo intend on giving him his due!
For once a year on Halloween they get one night to spaz,
Get down and *****, wild and crazy and play a little jazz!
That little mushroom of a girl will play a tiny fiddle,
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo, a jazzy duet with child in middle!'

Ra’atan-Zu, Boogedy-Boo and a little girl too as they get down actin’ a spaz! Playin’ all night, howling to the moon and kickin’ out some wicked jazz!

And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
  The skeleton bones clink.

Halloween narrative rhyme.
Camilla Green Jan 2018
In apple growing-warmth,
I found oceans between eyelashes and Pacific air.

Ligamented with smoke, skeleton hands crafted cigarettes of honey and curling floral sweetness.

For soft-haired royalty, I bowed my heart and washed my skin in space and rainy wishes.

I drowned myself in polish remover, to show the stripped beauty of love and life
to a sun who lives off alcohol and notions of wouldn't it be nice?

But I, the noiseless patient spider,
who has flung gossamer after thread,
am reaching for nothing but an earth flower,
One who I thought loved me,
or at least that’s what she said.
((one who sees through rose-pink eyeglasses,
and speaks in feathered song.))

Still, I sleep well under starless skies,
where urban northern lights burn the dark,
charred there by city windows and boundless passing cars.

Here, I wrap myself in a cloth galaxy,
and I paint the sun with blackberry juice,
trading gold and diamonds for the simple hope
that someone might live up to you.
1-20-2018
Six surly skinless skeletons settled
'neath a misty moonless sky
in judgement of an ignominious slight
upon their betrayed chalk white bones

Centuries since and yet to come
upon those old arthrithic frames
Flesh and soul had made their home
abandoned them to earths dank clay

The soul of each was now sought out
Retribution paved the way
stealthily six set out  same night
'Avenge! Avenge!  each jaw  cried out

Gnashing teeth and stone washed skulls
six plus six plus sixty more
from more to scores and millions more
Till all Earth's earth stirred long stiff bones

An army now was on the  move
laying  seige to the gates of Hell
The Heavens too were on the route
as every soul was now searched out


Flames of fires and heat of Hell
illuminated all those souls
in chain and pain and stagnant dwell
Bones now rattled and battled hard

Avenge! Avenge! their battle cry
seizing each and every soul
marching  through the deepest depths
Soul and Bones now made their way
back to Earth and earths dank clay

All souls' day and all souls' night
scores of skeletons settled scores
Heaven held till holding hurt
then emptied all its souls to Earth

Souls and Bones now made their way
Back to Earth and earths dank clay
CK Baker Jan 2017
He filled his week bag
with quick picks
from the commissary
cover blades
and skull caps
canned goods
and half stated pearls
liquor bills
and bleeders
for the flight of weary

Into the ****** bunks
of the western front
past sivana
and nurture sage
past the pomp
and ceremony
out of robe
and into jumpers
and casings
and masks of gas

Light infantry
and yelling men
muscled
and scorned
fly boys high
in 3 wing flight
mounted gunners
filling the night
in hawkers and packards
and scabbard chape

Tarrant tabers
and camels
dodge the vicker gun
skeleton hands
grease the mill trap
carnage makers
mark the rhineland
(buried in bunkers
and pile bags
and earth pack)

Trench helmets
and metal backs
under machine fire
minefields burn
in muzzle and coil
deep in the shadows
and shrapnel
and spear
the razor wire
and dead cold
despair

Slouch hats
and burning rats
kerosene lamps
and droopers
the soldier stares down
the broken line
and limb
a ****** holds steady
(shelved at a distance)
on ripped pipe
and beam

It was an all in
end game
a grapple for the ages;
*** in the
fokker pursuit
over rolling hills
and fallen comrades
into the bishop bullet
(and sporadic cheer)
which sealed the deal
in an empty field
near the brae corbie road
zebra Sep 2016
i constantly feel the need
to express to you
my inner unreasoned
masturbatory stream of consciousness.
and i want you to know
i consider it an immense privilege
for you to be so kind
dearest
as to stand
under my ghastly orchard

my darkest poems
blood letting streams
are a kind of ******
fetishy cognitive inventory
malformed denizens
of the subconscious
a well of torments
soup of Salmonella
the souls gut
its cauldron
yet not with out lurid enticements
and voluptuous supplicants
gorgeous
like an eight legged woman
with beautiful feet
drooling **** lips
drunk on sacrificial rituals
of blood black tongued kisses
and hideous contorted pleasures
*******

once
exquisite archetypes
gods and goddesses
are now
putrefied
cellar dwellers
moaning in nature bed crypts
of rock, stone
and engraved sigils

because honest pure desires
became fragmentary
and are now gimping amputees
by legions of primal disappointment

while faces blare in the world
like super bright L.E.D.s
shinning paths to others
our deep self
remains patinaed in tears
a black box pox with a lock
the skeleton key lost
in arcane seas

out of utter disgust
for those dark crawlers
that live within us
revealing them selves
as anxieties, depressions
suicides
and myriad quiet despairs
we appear undaunted
to others
and they to us

humanity
muffled ticks
and splintered sticks

my poems let my demons out

yoo who its me
my name is spray snake z
with my hooks and cries
and dark blood skies

in the misty night
i dragged out their earthen coffins
legends of the despicable
resurrected them
fed and loved those darklings
had every conceivable union with them
their healing, my own

ive sexualized them
and found love
albeit twisted

to be adored
in a hidden embrace
i bestow upon you a poetic fantasy
while obsession takes hold

bind it not
nor let it bind you
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story not judge me  although i admit to my paraphilias  
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about
Maniac girl Jun 11
Embellished skeleton with roses
And that skeleton is Dancing like it’s possessed
It’s dancing with a man who has a devil smirk, wild eyes and bewitching face,
He’s evil, don’t get obsess.

Don’t play with fire
It’s only a desire
Desires are like weather
You know  both of you can’t be together


It so fascinating that something so sinful will take you to heaven
But it’ll be only his trick playing with your mind which is his new home
Today you can’t go to heaven
Cause death is yet to come

It's not what you think
He's a God who's about to blink
God of lies
Evil you despise

Wild, everything about him is so wild
Child, he says I’m just a stupid child
I said yes when he asked me to stay
But deep down I am sure I’m his prey

I don’t know how he’s going to commit the mürdêr of mine
But I prefer poison in my wine
He says you are mine to torture
I’ll be your cruel lover

I’ll love you to death and wait till you become a beautiful skull
And then I’ll decorate you with roses and pearl
Oh my corpse bride there’s nothing that can divide, no never
We’ll be together forever

I agree that I’m a wicked trickster
But I am your one and only master
Kiss me and end it really faster
And I promise it’ll be happily ever after.
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