Dark sounds in my mind- it’s me- my own fool.
Listen to bright light conversations- the fan cooks and cools-
Outside the walls, the blue walls, the rose floats on water –
petals tear-Noise, chatter, all fun- pre-slaughter.
Dark, the bats,
say it’s dark.
And it is dark,
even for bats.
Do you hear?
I hear water.
So hard to pinpoint
where the sound
is coming from.
The little girl in the yellow rain slicker
whispers to us as surely as can be
the water is there
and there it is,
Now close your eyes
and your mouth.
cease to care
about the dark.
GRAB A WORD; OUT OF THIN AIR.
EXPRESS YOURSELF RIGHT THEN AND THERE.
A SINGLE WORD COULD BE THE BEGINNING,
OR THE MIDDLE, OR EVEN THE END
OF YOUR RHAPSODY OF TRUE DEVOTION,
FOREVER HIDDEN, DEEP EMOTION,
NEVER SHARED UNTIL NOW,
SAVE ONE WORD, TO START HOW.
IN THE FOG, IN THE DARK,
WE ARE LOST. NOT A MARK,
DO WE SEE. NO SHINING STAR,
NOR ANY LIGHTS, FROM A CAR,
AS IT MOVES DOWN THE ROAD,
UNDER TIRE, A FAT TOAD,
GIVES HIS LIFE, NOT REALLY THOUGH;
THERE IS NO CAR, THEREFORE, NO TOAD,
IT’S JUST US, ALL ALONE.
Where a lawn used to flourish
now grows a weed forest.
Within the forest a collection of trash,
and empty liquor bottles decorate dead grass.
My fascination lies beyond the weeds,
an old abandoned house beckons to me.
With promises of secrets and dark treasures to be found,
I jog through the jug graveyard, up the stairs I bound.
I glance through one of its broken eyes;
I see spiders and used syringes inside.
The front door of this structure is missing its knob;
The hole now filled with a half rotting corncob.
Okay, so, this place is creepy as fuck.
I love to explore but I won’t push my luck.
Here we go,
this be our motto:
“We’re happy freaky mutants,
don’t need no haters to abuse us,
we are everything we are, plus!”
All bullies get on the next bus
we know you’re pitiful and obnoxious.
Scurry along now; don’t look back,
remain calm; don’t have a heart attack.
*Featured image compiled by BLT