The Dead

[Guest Alexander]

The dead are watching,

faces pressed against the glass

outside my bathroom window.

I catch glimpses of their faceless faces,

but only when I'm bleeding emotion into

the swirling water of a bath tub drain.

During the end of the world

they rise up to block out the light,

the shining light of the moon

which was my solemn comfort,

once.

When purple silk lies weeping

on my pillow in the night,

they are here with me,

their voices ever so quiet,

like the whispers of whispers.

Out of the corner of my eye,

I see pale skin dart away,

peeking around the trees.

But I never see their features,

nose less,

eyeless,

mouth less,

but screaming, screaming, screaming

in my mind, in the dark places

that I try to deny

existence.

In the memory of sounds

that never were,

I clutch my head and kneel on the floor,

carpet rough on my knees,

the dead rough on my thoughts.

When walking in the night the dead

do not touch me, they stay

hidden

and

illusory,

Never really there.

But there, because I see them,

I see them, I see them.

Madding reminiscences that were never real.

Are they real?

But I see the dead outside my bathroom window

in the night, in the cool darkness

madness.

[Guest Elizabeth K]

DARK

I like it - but I read Lovecraft too - and Clive Barker - and collected the Sandman series - and I DO see the dead - in dreams... but they seem more allies than demons - except the one in the reoccuring nightmare that splits open my head with an axe - I don't like that vision... but the others, my people mainly - you see I am the next to die in my family, everyone else older than me is gone. But I figure I got another 20 years outside.

I am also in transition and I ask the dead about that because they never knew me as I really am - they died too early - and I stole the names of four (Elizabeth) and two (Anne).

They laugh and tell me I was a fool - I shoulda transitioned YEARS ago - and they gave me absolution on the names - they are actually proud- the dead always like to be remembered.

Sorta got a bit dark myself - but death comes knocking sooner than later when you are older. Its really not a scarey as it seems. I mean - we are alive right now. A hundred years from now - EVERYONE on earth now, will be dead.

SKULLS AND CROSSBONES - AHRRRRRRR

Lizzy

[Sally]

Very well written, Dark but dark can be good when it is this well written.

I of course grew up on Poe and truely believe that I am viewing the House of Usher when I go to my parent's house, the home of my childhood as it slips into ill repair with my father too old to do repais himself and living on a fixed income as well. I am the youngest and my sister has no children. I am afraid that if I go inside the house will sink into the Earth and we will be no more.

OK, I don't stay there too long because with two people past 85 it's hot in there!

Love the macbre,

Sally

[Guest Alexander]

Thank you both. I try my best to write non-cliched dark poems, and I take a lot of inspiration from Poe, Anne Sexton, and Sylvia Plath. Except without the bad end they all came to, of course...

[Guest Naomi Stardust]

grew up with poe

spent my teens with clive barker

like the poem

i like macbre

even when i'm not in a dark mood

i didn't catch any cliches either

good poem

[Guest Felicia Anne]

alexander, that was excellent. dark, but i really loved it. you have a style that really calls to me, and i would love to see you write more in these forums.

(i must sound like a blithering groupie...)