Creepy poems
Here's something you don't see all the time here: creepy poems. Why?... Why the hell not.
Soaking
The water goes cold
The wine bottle slips
The attempt fails
Chipped shards of glass
Jagged as shark’s teeth, sharp as tears
cry as they beckon my plump feet
to pop the skin and free
sweet sanguine sweat of iron
as they puncture and crush
and crush and crush and crack
as the checkerboard tile floor
aches for the pulsing blood
as it dries with warm gasps
as the tingles are tossed from
under foot to over head
as pings ripple through the
embedded glass hooks
one jump, to the balls of my feet
the glass attached as a tick, rides
the clumped toes
the dusty glittering glass
macerates and lacerates
awash in crimson
scarlet stains, the red dries to black
as the doors swing open to let
in the light and burn the cuts
that never reach the wrist.
Burned brightly
The tiger can no longer burn bright
the proud predator yearns to slumber
as the breath is labored and reluctant
catabolic cancer consumes all
evenly
alike
the cat that once dreamt of fire
now waits while the embers are fated to be
as the frost
on the glass
of the smudged
window
that beckons the smoke to stain
the view-bright, so bright to be dull-
The asymmetry of the palsied face
invokes memories
as the tiger pounces
on to a silk pillow’s sheen and
Purrs, and Primps, and Watches
the prey mocking birds
parade on the dying
lawn of autumn.
The tiger is fed
claws retract.
The breath is labored
The slumber is not.
Pathetic fallacy
Yellow ebbs and breaches the rounded edge
as potent whispers of magnesium white light
gasp and burn the mist of the greedy morning
New sprouts and shoots search
Among the vast verdant vistas
to view, a stronger sun shining
silently eating the splendor of another
revolution as the heat’s and hell’s
fury is called forth, invoked
to illuminate the path
the plow must follow the fold
of the soil as it releases its
eager moisture.
The sun at its longest hour
seethes and spasms
With reluctant annoyance
as reserved animosity rises
for the parched plants and animals
hiding in the shade.
Memory
Atmospheric lesions, ghosts of experience
sliced and sawed off by spectral knives
dull blades, spoons scoop the senses
in as series of sedated speculations
the gray matter is dust
the mind still sits vibrating
at idle, the one second
becomes infinitely lost
in between the firing neuron
and the chemical bridge
***
Scars across starry eyes
Leech out and spread
as the mind seeks contrast
in the light and dark horizon
***
The betrayal of the cell is revealed
and lightens the view as the
smooth agreeable sheen of
childish soft cornered scenarios
are offended by adult content
Buried as a stillbirth, in the dust
The ghosts are lost
and seek their place
on the other side of the bridge.
(poems by Joshua)