OK, gang. The new rules are: shorter pieces, poems and prose pieces of less than a page, should be posted here. Email me longer pieces and I'll continue putting them up on the website.
This week's challenge: spook pieces. Words to get you going: phantom, shadow, heart, macabre, schizophrenia, sepulcher, crypt, maggots, doll.
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This is a prose poem by my friend and neighbor Lawrence Arone
Misery
I am enjoying a thought of misery, which of course is contradictory. The world to me is sinking in greed, and in decadence, not to mention shallow thinking and ignorance. My body in rot adds to the pain of this thought. Even my past is blocked out, as well as reason, and my future is in doubt because of misery’s omniscience.
It is a maker of bad dreams, a sorcerer reigning supreme, sitting on its callous throne blowing chaos from its mighty horn. Its strength resides in its length. It has its own space, its own time, it turns off the lights in the universe of the mind. Yes, I enjoy misery, it is a pure thought void of ambiguities.
But all thoughts control existence until the next one comes along. When the sun rises in the morn, when a bird now sings her song, from nothing misery was born, to nothing misery has gone.
Broken Lullaby---
Porcelain dolls with broken necks
Stare with cracked blue eyes
The silent toys watch the scene
Of the little boy bathed in red
His deep cuts dying the beige carpet ruby
The parent’s morn with muffled cries
Hush children, do not wake the dead
Around corpse dances little children
With white washed faces and tearing eyes
They moan together with scratching voices
A hollow and empty lullaby
Together they dance around in circles
Stalking like shadows in the night
Hush my children or they will find you
And cut you in your shaken dreams
A teddy bear sits without its cotton
A rocking horse lamed without its legs
They sit victim to the unborn children
Who stalk and ravage the quiet night
So hush my children and say your prayers
May god watch you till mornings light.
Trick or treat, trick or treat
Give us something good to eat.
This the children sang three fold,
until the man came out and told
them that the treat was waiting inside.
The children hurried in their youthful greed,
salivating for the treats they awaited.
But then the children looked around,
and saw the trick that had baited them.
This house was a monster, the man was ghost,
the door was closing, revealing their host.
I hope you like spiders my children so dear
he said as the children’s eyes filled with tears.
Down from the ceiling came the eight legged foes,
their host was transforming, revealing the show.
Creeping and crawling, their webs like white veils,
their eyes like black demons, their bodies like shells.
The children ran screaming away in the night,
but when they turned around in their fright,
they saw not the monster but an abandoned old shack,
that stood alone in night’s veil of black.
Their buckets were empty their, their candy gone,
only a spider was left all alone,
crawling away, the children in sight
he laughed at the games that they played in the night.
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