THE GATES

 

 

THE GATES

The gates encircle the property,

Their sharp edges pointing to the sky.

They deter all visitors,

Keeping the evil inside.

The house holds many secrets,

Some strange and unbelievable.

Windows are eyes to the soul

And mirrors to the unknown.

End House has invited us,

Extending a fancy invitation.

Do we dare follow our curiosity,

Or listen to our pounding hearts?

We are here for the night.

Time will only tell.

Whether we make it to morning

In this unholy hell.

THE DEAD GAME

 

IMAGINE…

 

A school for peculiar children.

How peculiar were they?

Murderers?

Psychopaths?

They sat around a circle.

Doing what?

Terrifying each other?

Or were they terrified

of their teachers?

Imagine the horrors.

Imagine the sadness

between these walls.

No wonder it closed down.

Where are these children now?

 

A THANKSGIVING SPIN

Sweet and tasty it may be.

It does not come for free.

Life was given up

For this group to sup.

What are your holiday wishes?

And what could be the side dishes?

Some sliced fingers on a crystal plate

May satisfy your cravings of late.

Enjoy!

FACE OFF

 

Sunflowers face off.

They’ve come alive.

Invading my dreams.

Becoming my nightmare.

Green arms to strike.

Yellow faces too grim.

A field behind each.

Ready for the battle ahead.

THE DEAD GAME

 

UNPREDICTABLE

summertime

I can imagine floating in a pool.

Sunshine beating down.

Surrounded by blue water.

Two leaves floating beside me.

Or are those leaves?

They turn into two whales.

And I’m not in a pool.

But far out in the ocean.

Being chased by whales.

The mind of an author.

Strange and unpredictable.

ALIENATED

 

 

Some days I feel alienated

from the people around me.

They talk and walk like me

but their words are strange.

Thoughts of a different tongue.

Humor of a separate species.

Lovers of everything Kardashian.

Clothes made from the same cloth.

Clones of the lowest elements.

What happened to individuality?

What happened to modesty and charm?

Lost to our race.

Lost in the wake of selfies.

 

A STRANGE PLACE

 

 

The mind can be a strange place.

It can think up dark stories.

With monsters and demons.

A little murder and mayhem.

Skulls and bones for decoration.

Maybe your cup of tea is blood.

Your coffee carries some poison.

Let your mind roam the darkness.

And maybe beyond.

WATCHING AND WAITING

 

 

The pretty house in the woods.

Covered in vines and leaves.

Windows peek out at the sun.

Who might there be behind the glass panes?

Inhabitants or residents of the past?

The only way to find out is

To knock on the door.

Oh look, the door is standing open.

Let’s walk in and see if it’s deserted.

How pretty it is inside with fancy rugs and chandeliers.

Couches and settees arranged to welcome the weary.

Hello, does anyone live here?

Oh, I didn’t see the two of you.

A husband and wife team.

Looks like they stepped out of the 1800′s.

Beautiful gown and nice overalls.

They want us to follow them upstairs.

I don’t want to go but I suppose we are.

The house is much larger inside than out.

A trick of light or another illusion.

Oh look, empty children’s bedrooms.

Set up like shrines with toys and clothes.

I see we’re coming to an attic.

Empty except for the rocking chair facing a window.

In the midst of the quiet a squeaking sound begins.

Back and forth, back and forth.

The chair rocks back and forth.

Who is making it rock?

What? They say one of their own is watching.

Sitting in the rocking chair and watching over town.

He’s invisible because why?

He’s a vampire.

This is taking a turn to the ridiculous. 

I’m outta here. Bye all!

Squeak, Squeak, Squeak.

THE DEAD GAME

THE SINKHOLE

THE SINKHOLE

A sinkhole where the house has stood

Lies deep in the deserted wood.

Where has everyone gone to?

The grass and trees are gone too.

A house and garden have once stood here.

Now there is only the ground laid bare.

Could they be in the tunnels below?

And hear me if I yell out hello?

I hear rumbling coming from the hole.

The loose rocks are beginning to roll.

I should leave before it’s too late

And I suffer the same sad fate.

THE DEAD GAME
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