I walk alone each night
On cold, country roads.
No one calls my name.
No one cares to stop.
I walk alone each night,
Hoping to find the one for me,
The one who calls my name,
And who cares enough to stop.
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This is a fantasy come true,
The sunshine in a sky dark blue.
White sand on a Florida beach,
Within a tourist’s grasping reach.
Until the night rears its dark head,
Tourists disappear from their bed.
Can Oasis, Florida be cursed?
Like it’s been carefully rehearsed.
Think twice before coming to shore.
It’s fun and games but so much more.
THE DEAD GAME
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Sit by the shore.
I don’t need more.
The orange sun sets for me.
I’m as happy as can be.
Florida is paradise.
Its sand feels smooth and so nice.
The nights might be cold.
Demons roam I’m told.
But enjoy the salty air.
Until the vampires come near.
THE DEAD GAME
The Dead are dancing,
swooping down with joy.
They love Oasis.
Florida belongs to them.
They rule the night.
Lightning follows in their wake.
Thunder blows its trumpet.
We bow to their might.
You can see the joy
in the curl of the wave.
THE DEAD GAME
Plumbers and Gasfitters Employees’ Union Building, Melbourne, Graeme Gunn, 1968-71.
A COMPLICATED NIGHT
The street lights refuse to glow on this dark night,
adding to my increasing shivers and fright.
I should not have agreed to come here
in darkness crippling me with fear.
Through the lit window, I spot a figure.
The shadow moves closer and grows bigger.
My hand lifts to grasp the railing,
then both my arms are flailing.
A bullet has grazed my left shoulder,
leaving the pain behind to smolder.
My right-hand reaches across to staunch the blood
as I turn to flee before my tears can flood.
I zigzag through the deserted streets of the town,
all the while praying that no others are around.
Life of a spy is not an easy one,
like a roller coaster without the fun.
Straight ahead stands another figure.
He signals for me not to linger.
My partner opens the passenger door for me.
I am on my way to get out of this scot-free.
Cypress Lawn Memorial Park | GarettPhotography
Evil waits for you and me
beneath the tall cypress tree.
It comes in the dark of night,
won’t leave without a good fright.
The mausoleum is dark.
We only came on a lark.
Time for us to run and go.
The wind says, “I don’t think so.”
THE DEAD GAME
I wait for you each night.
Your sparkling glow.
Your everlasting heat.
The night bows to you.
The stars gather round.
Man looks up to you.
Take me into your light.
Haze covers the town,
but please do not frown.
Secrets are concealed.
The Dead are revealed.
We come in the fog.
The mist we don’t hog.
We’ll share it with you,
a shimmering blue.
The moon shines its glare
on those who come here.
Frolic in the night.
Just keep out of sight.
THE DEAD GAME
Rising from down under.
Below our calm waters.
Beneath our heavenly paradise.
They come to our shore.
Dark shadows on the soft breeze.
Leaving dead bodies on the sand.
Disappearing with the morning light.
Until night falls once more.
THE DEAD GAME
I cry alone in the dark of night.
The sun refuses to share the light.
Lit by a fire from within.
Moonlight hits me like a sharp pin.
I grow paler by the day.
In this world, I cannot stay.
Without light, I will die.
My white petals will fly.
I’m left to be a thin stick
As I grow tired and sick.
