DEEP IN QUICKSAND

 

 

Let’s travel through the forest so green.

A creature-filled oasis but don’t scream.

The roots tangle around our feet.

Walking becomes a scary feat.

Neon leaves hit our faces.

A hit every few paces.

I’m sinking deep into the forest floor.

Quicksand my enemy forever more.

QUICKSAND

 

Let’s travel through the forest so green.

A creature-filled oasis but don’t scream.

The roots tangle around our feet.

Walking becomes a scary feat.

Neon leaves hit our faces.

A hit every few paces.

I’m sinking deep into the forest floor.

Quicksand my enemy forever more.

THE SWAMP

Swamp
moody-nature
IMG_4842 // By Robert Guimont

THE SWAMP

The swamp holds mysteries,

Silence within its barren domain.

Eyes peek through the sheer surface,

Hinting at the dangers lurking below.

Lacking is the bird’s song of twilight.

Missing is the rustle through the brush.

Silence holds us in its thrall,

Cold fingers clasping around my neck.

Humid air coats my mottled body,

Mutilated by blood-thirsty mosquitoes.

The path teases my mind’s eye,

Offering a way out of this hellhole.

I hack at the dried branches,

Threatening to leave me with one eye.

I’ve reached the end of my journey

As my feet sink in the quicksand of despair.

EVIL WAITS

Evil waits at death’s door
For those who follow the creatures of the dammed.
Doors pop up all around me,
But none lead to the valley of The Dead.

I will not give up on my search
To uncover the opening to hell below.
Innocent victims are trapped in the silent hell,
Waiting to be freed from the unearthly darkness.

My friends must be among the crowd
Of souls yearning to be set free once more.
Illusions and traps may try to confuse me
But I refuse to yield to their games anymore.

Winds grab hold of my hair with their wispy fingers,
Tightening their grasp around my neck.
The sand becomes wet and soggy,
Turning to quicksand beneath my bare feet.

The forest transforms itself into a swamp,
Filled with slithering snakes and alligators.
I’ve seen this trick once before from Wolf,
Using illusions to further his game.

This time I will not turn away in fear
And run from his evil laughter.
Nothing will stop me from fighting
To free my friend’s from his evil reign.

Our games have just begun.

THE DEAD GAME 

MY ENEMY FOREVER MORE

 

Let’s travel through the forest so green.

A creature-filled oasis but don’t scream.

The roots tangle around our feet.

Walking becomes a scary feat.

Neon leaves hit our faces.

A hit every few paces.

I’m sinking deep into the forest floor.

Quicksand my enemy forever more.

 

Source:

WE WAIT

Browse

Richard Misrach, ‘Clearing Storm Near Kingman,’ 1985, Robert Mann Gallery

 

Emptiness.

A vast open space.

Open to the sky.

Coated in dust and mud.

Rearranged by sand storms.

Washed by the rain.

We wait for help.

For the weather.

For settlers.

For investors.

We wait.

OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN — THE DEAD GAME — PART 29

Evil waits at death’s door
For those who follow the creatures of the dammed.
Doors pop up all around me,
But none lead to the valley of The Dead.

I will not give up on my search
To uncover the opening to hell below.
Innocent victims are trapped in the silent hell,
Waiting to be freed from the unearthly darkness.

My friends must be among the crowd
Of souls yearning to be set free once more.
Illusions and traps may try to confuse me
But I refuse to yield to their games anymore.

Winds grab hold of my hair with their wispy fingers,
Tightening their grasp around my neck.
The sand becomes wet and soggy,
Turning to quicksand beneath my bare feet.

The forest transforms itself into a swamp,
Filled with slithering snakes and alligators.
I’ve seen this trick once before from Wolf,
Using illusions to further his game.

This time I will not turn away in fear
And run from his evil laughter.
Nothing will stop me from fighting
To free my friend’s from his evil reign.

Our games have just begun.

THE DEAD GAME