Tag Archives: spectre

ghost in the walls

Broken compass still moving forward
A constant north, the one I’ll never know
Like everything, I gravitate to what ends up killing me
We’re separated by a hell of a lot more than the sky…

~*~

i have not dwelt

simply to haunt the stubborn

nor to be wasted away

by tides of hubris.

i may be a mere spectre

but i am nary a ghost

nor another figment of your

mischievous imagination.

you may think me but

another flickering shadow

lingering past peripheral visions,

in the darker corners of your

tired, bleary, hallucinating eyes,

but i am not transient

and quiet mantras and disheartened

prayers will not be enough to

make me go away, vanish.

and my silhouette shall eclipse

your sunrise mind, until

persistence turns to paranoia

and mysticism turns to madness,

morphing your shallow dreams

into abysmal nightmares…

you deserve it,

for you are a murderer—

you have not killed my body,

but you have mercilessly mutilated

my spirit, leaving my heart

beating steady yet badly hollow,

making me vainly ache

for the former tragedy instead.

with what you have done,

it is only fair and just for me

to be the deathless past

billowing rather furiously

behind your closed curtains,

trapping you in my perpetual gale

as you have done to me.

for i have not dwelt simply

to be another superstitious legend

passed around in whispers,

nor will i stay in insignificant limbo

just to be entirely washed away

by the arrogant tides of

the fear you once called love.

~*~

Your wings might be broken but it’s not too late
You hide your emotions so you can escape
You can’t be afraid to make mistakes
And you can’t fake perfection…

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La Bella Fantasia

“I swear that I can hear you in the wind…”

~*~

little phantasmic phantoms dance about

growing flowers at the garden of my mind

waiting to pluck out each bluebell and daisy

to fashion the wreaths into something kind

the playful zephyr is a fair weather friend

lulling each berceuse to sleep until the end

orbit sending me high into the atmosphere

but i won’t fall, no—i have nothing to fear

listening to the cherry blossoms that hide

in the boroughs where there’s a tinkerbell bride

and the mystical creatures would understand

with every speck of dust, a magic that enchants

.

but the delphi hearts and oracular tongues

speak of stories and brier thorns that selfishly clung

to innocent naivete still stubbornly preserved

though only to the pristine youth that it deserves

the wily eyes staring into the darkness osiris

as the nettles grow wild prevent cogent dreams

they scoured the atlas looking for eternal citadels

the nondescript pangs unaware of incarnate bevels

shrines that i pray to now submerged in irascible sins

incoherent adages leaving bruised indentations within

will the pixies be daunted? will the elves repatriate?

Quietly accepting the moiety of their unfortunate fates?

.

but beneath the black and white of underground paradise

is a fair place for scathing asters and aureole mirth alike

beyond the curlicues of charcoal smoke that paint the stars

a gossamer love decays, recording a dictaphone of past wars

in an imbroglio of lotuses, past the wafting scent of sandalwood

on the horizon, a transit of venus, a crescent smiling platitude

thoughts as crystal clear as seaglass, reflect candid illusions

show a bouquet from the spectres, a plethora of guiling ruminations

amid the taste of camphor and lead, i return to lacklustre reality

wondering and pondering when i’ll get lost again in my crafted fantasy.

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Faces in the Mirror

“No, I’m barely hanging on…
By the time you’re hearing this
I’ll already be gone.”

~*~

Vacancies in visible endeavours

Spectres gaze back, alluding the mirror

Enchanting curlicues and plumes of smoke

Remorseless, bitter tryptophan in spokes

Unresponsive heart silencing my pulse

Cascading lavender, faux fragile ghost

Persistent aches colluding in my chest

Paralysing asphalt refusing rest

Exquisite grievous, scant aphorism

Whilst speculations worship sadism

Coalescing exaltations infest

Imitating a clockwork heaven’s best

Your faded temper embraced me goodbye

You’re the divine phantom piercing my lies.

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searching for chimaera

Love, love is the warmest color
Petrol blues, hallelujah, hallelujah
Comes, saut dans le vide, my lover
In my youth the greatest tide washed up my prize…

~*~

it miming fantasies

a prayer of dahlias

warmth and sprigs

of wallpaper roses

cast hallucinations

spectral silhouettes

crescent lunar lamp

of moment to forget

consent trepidation

elucidating respites

chiasmus chimaera

an effete of the night.

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The Backyard Boneyard

In the backyard where stars are buried

The moonlight’s dim, no spectres solid

Black bats avoid the sharp razor trees

And maggots festered under disease

.

Hell awaits, encased in cold grey stones

From coffins of red and velvet bones

The devils bartering souls for sale

Salvation was but a fairy tale

.

Lost souls vie for their damnable fates

Pray to saints only when it’s too late

Decaying like fruits, plucked rancid fair

Monstrosity farm, ripeness they bear

.

Centuries pass, generations chime

Can’t turn back the decomposing time

Ghosts fed to minds to lead them astray

Again the cycle completes its prey

.

Cemeteries of death and roses

Existences gone with no losses

In the backyard where stars are buried

The moonlight’s lost in shadows solid.

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A Week Washed Up In Melancholy’s Undertow

~*~

SUNDAY: TIE ME UP AGAIN

The bright stars are rudely burning my eyes

And that cherry sunset sky is badly rotting

The moon frowns back in a dulled disguise

When my soul finds life severely disappointing.

~*~

MONDAY: YOU COULD FILL ME IN

I dial the knobs and tune to your station radio

And once upon a time, I heard melodic music

But your airwaves changed into a distorted audio

And now all I hear is a dinning unpleasant static.

~*~

TUESDAY: I’LL BE FINE WITH IT

I shoot my bullet kiss through a small shaky dime

Held between your teeth and trembling fuchsia lips

An inch more, a heart-less, and you might’ve died

But are you glad, my dearest love, that I’ve missed?

~*~

WEDNESDAY: I KNOW HOW TO SWIM

Call my arctic cloudy hopes dangling overhead

But it’s raining storms, a cumulonimbus crying

And I’m left shivering, sneezing, badly drenched

Rendered sick by my own coldest falling optimism.

~*~

THURSDAY: SEND A HURRICANE TO ME

These playground games are no longer fun

The red metal swing set is creaky and rusted

Empty staccato of children shouting as they run

From a happy childhood long past evanescenced.

~*~

FRIDAY: SINKING NEVER FELT SO SWEET

Fade in, fade out, show of just another sfumatic spectre

Blending in the vestiges, blending in the damp colours

Fade in, fade out, fade until I turn into an invisible grey

Waiting for the day I fail to reappear and completely fade away.

~*~

SATURDAY: STUCK IN YOUR UNDERTOW

Bobbing against the deepest aquamarine waters, float, sink, float, sink, float, sink, float

Submerged into an abyssal trench of disconsolence, hanging barely by a splintered boat

Drown, gasp, struggle by the waves, yet in the end I curl into a peaceful ball and sink slowly

And accept the pressure that crushes my weakened lungs as I drift in undertows of melancholy.

~*~

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Conscientious Hauntings

I’m a rose that’s been raised by wolves
My thorns are getting stuck in everything I know
It’s so hard when you would bleed for the truth you know
But we don’t want the truth, we just want control…

~*~

Trailing will-o’-the-wisps recede from the corner of my eye

Playful phantoms taunt me happily as they float freely on by

Poltergeists scream and rattle as they make an awful lot of noise

Wraiths whisper omens in my ear, such a sickly hollow dry voice

.

Apparitions and spectres flash quickly by the foot of my bed

Shadows slithering out of my closet and into my head

Spirits with sharp wits leaving riddles and soft declarations

Fuzzy figures, orbs of light, that all seem like a bad hallucination

.

I live in a reality where I meet translucent ghosts at every turn

In a graveyard of regrets and dreams, the fallen ambitions of scorn

But the spirits that haunt me and my soul were never such a burden

For these companions remind me of my past mistakes, so I’ll never forget not to do it again.

~*~

…But now I see and I believe
That the ghosts that haunt me
Have been outhaunted…

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