Ghost ship

The good moments lost like a ghost ship at sea.

It's only seen for  a short time then disappears into the mist.
Now life is stale and like most ghost ships stuck in the past.
like a barrelman in his crow's nest  I find myself gazing  into the near lands.
Imagining the adventures and journey's that are just out of my reach.


The waves, wind and current are always to strong, lost at sea... I guess that is where I belong. 
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Who or What?

I am what i am.

I go unnoticed like the insects in your PB and Jam.

I'm practically a poltergeist.

No i'm not, I'm a silent ghost.

Caught by the tongue, but I have a sewn mouth

I'm stuck with myself like Hall and Oates.

Everything looks surreal.

Only because it is.

I have no definite form.

I'm not made of circles and squares.

just a bunch of concepts that society dissmisses. 

I'm sitting, I feel serene while strangers keep looking at me

as if I bring despair.

Their perception is rigamortis in the electric chair.

Admittedly I seem as if I'm in disrepair.

Who or what am I?

I'm in every color as if I was a t-shirt getting tie-dyed.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I don't like "proper" format. 

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Sweet Fang

Satanic Serenades

The corner of the eye
A glimpse of a tail
A spot of ink by the gate
A call in the night
The whisper of a gale

A black cat's ghost
Haunting the garden at night
By the dragon lilies, beneath the vines
In the moonlight, sleek and lithe
Giving him form, giving him flight
Those green eyes piercing the dark
And right into your dreams

Sweet Fang, Halloween cat
Child of the pumpkin patch

The black earth embraced you that night you decided to leave
Within such a short spanse you took the leap
Back to the pit, petrichor released
Surrounded by family, said your farewells to those who love you so
Sweet prince, you will forever live by us and with us

Sweet Fang, Halloween cat
Child of the pumpkin patch

Black cats and cobwebs, things that go bump in the night
Little goblin of the fold, a shadow in the window
A creature 'neath the bed, in the cupboard scratching late
A caress of the hand, a curl at the feet
Come and go as you please, and join the phantom parade

By what Bast has blessed us but for a spot in timelessness
We thank Thee in the name of Satan for this creature of fang and claw...

Sweet Fang, Halloween feline
Child of the pumpkin patch

So you left paw prints upon our hearts
And though you are still with us
We miss your corporeal form
And now from whence you lay in majestic display
Shall spring forth a tribute to life

Even moreso than spectral glimpses
Oh, that look upon your face!
Burned with love on my mind!
All expressions in one, everything for all time!
Haunts the canvas of my mind

A growl of objection, frustration and fight
A mighty clinging to pleasure and life
Thy gentle black flame did roar in a Fyfe
And in bewildered visage, the fog did arise
The Devil came for his kind

Sweet Fang, Halloween grace
Child of the pumpkin patch
Black cats and cobwebs, things that go bump in the night
Little goblin of the fold, a shadow in the window
A creature 'neath the bed, in the cupboard scratching late
A caress of the hand, a curl at the feet
Come and go as you please, and join the phantom parade

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Curses Too Kritic/ Invocations From The Soul- Part Two

Psalms sung with faith;
curses from the Father, the
Son, and the Holy Ghost;
rejoicing under the influence...

Nestled, numbed atop
heavenly clouds; two crazy
diamonds in the sky without
shine; rough edges can be
smooth again if both believe
they will shine again as one...


Clarifying the darkness both
entertain in the name of the
wicked that pace back and
forth outside the window of
time and space created by a
simple wish...


Invocations to God's shadow;
puppets to an addiction,
masters of enjoyed silence
listening to the symphony of


I the Lizard Prince and my
Black Sheep traveling in the
dark under the sunlight too
steal our dreams back from
the sandman we both entered
in the years of our youth and
ignorant ways...


No King too hail; howling
under the moonlight, a lustful
night with love making in
between the stars, invoking
peace and harmony, with
conversations from the heart
bringing positive vibes and


Alas, together we stand on
this mountain top, with hills
and more mountains too the
horizon; life does not come
without challenges, and
challenges do not arise
without taking the risk to fall
in love again...



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Curses and Invocations....

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Dead Boy


I dreamed of this boy,

In his red sweater.

I said it before,

Now he came back. 


He is dead,

Lonely and sad.

"I can't help you,

It confuses me too!

Go find someone

Who can..."


I dreamed of this boy,

He said once more:

"I did found you,

And I want to play too!"

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A dream I had of a dead boy appearing (for the second time).

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What We Are (In the Dark)







Deeper darkness lurking in the twilight,

Murky depths, rejected by the sunlight.


Monsters creeping in the dark, 

Gleaming eyes filled with savagery, 

Mouths filled with glistening teeth.


I have walked amongst apparitions. 

I have faced demons and gods. 

No foe or ally is greater than myself.


The split, the divide, is as

Different as day and night, 

Greater than the space


Between the darkest point of the ocean

And the stars. We exist

Between the realms.


Aware of both, grasping one, 

Fearing the other,

When nothing truly exists. 


For what is the self other than

A collection of thoughts, 

Of ideas, a ghost?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I should be writing an essay for my english class right now. 

This happened instead.

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It Lives

(image from 




Wasted portions of misunderstood and ignored knowledge

held for ransom, like a secret never told,

Stealthily gaining momentum

from its gravity turned stale, and time lapsed in hiding. 

Soon sheethed in the murky shadows,

lurking in the zone of the unknown,



Wanting to free, but hopelessly shackled,

a hostage whose only solace is reveling in a newfound medium,

Somewhere between complacency and torment,

it gathers rapacious auric silt and slime,

Like the ghost of thoughts put to rest,

And stories never told,



It plays possum in the night,

only to keep a watchful eye

upon the Earth.


Devotion and loyalty to reticence

is its only oxygen in the struggle for freedom,

Befriended only by the sound---HUSH!

And speak, but only for the rebirth of itself,

At its core, once long ago, enlightenment, metamorphosed into

a haunting, churlish, savage scowl.




is the tortured spirit of all things 

misunderstood, held in secrecy,

the words and thoughts of the wolves

who walk with brazen ostenatiousness

in the sheep's hide.




1:31 am



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Words of knowledge unspoken turn to ignorance, and then to rude, abrasive, violent language and even acts.

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An Encounter with a Ghost ....

I have no proof for this event ..
fair to say it might never have been ...
All I have is these few stanzas
Conversations with a spirit none have seen..

My village is a quiet little country...
not a usual haunt for lost souls ..
a common sight be the local drunkard ..
passionate in his arguments with the old electric pole ...

My eyes alert for any suspicious movement ...
regret filling my journey this unearthly hour..
my heart eerily missing those odd few beats ..
as I see an odd figure under the shadow's cover.

He sits lazily beneath the Banyan tree...
his mannerism sedate, wise & other-worldly..
a look of a favorite old uncle, he had
shiny spectacles, a flowing beard to the knee

Bedtime horror stories of old granny ..
powerpointed right before my eyes
my whole body absolutely still ...
the throat stifling out my cries.

'What be thou doing at this hour ?' he asks
a question methinks that befitted him better …
'I am of this village, good Sire... My house beyond these gates ..
been late beyond usual .. the family panicky, I figure ..'

"Oh !! Youu must be poor old Robert …
they sand songs about Thee ..
the younger brother cried the loudest …
though your parents pained beyond decree .."

" Of what songs .. do you mention of ?? ", I asked …
panic rising steadily down my spine…
'my lateness extending perhaps a day …
pray tell me what befall to the family of mine

"Son .. Do thou not remember anything …
about thy journey on that bike …
that sudden black-out you felt …
and a pristine white light floating by… "

" Of course, I remember .. that light .. "
As I realize with my voice eerily curt short .
that man I speak to being a 'brother' Ghost …
and poor me, standing all alone by the Graveyard post.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An Odd little poem penned when I was in my teens .. A simple one .. It's not my best but I am a bit nostalgic of my first poem :)

The Phantom


It’s always there, watching me
I have nowhere to turn
Nowhere to hide
It’s always within sight
And when I think I’m alone
There it is in front of me
I cannot get away
Always chasing after me
I think I may go insane
It’s around every corner
Always on the horizon
Always out of reach
Why can’t I lose it?
Why can’t it leave me alone?
The shadows close in
My mind sways like the wind in the trees
A cold wind; deathly cold
Lives lost
What could’ve been
What has been
What will become
Why does it follow me so?
It’s a shadow, sticking closer than my clothes
Setting my teeth on ice
Putting out any flicker of life
What is this phantom you say?
Not what, but a remembrance of who
Here is a mirror, see your own face.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This just came into my mind after hearing the Phantom of the Opera.... kind of a weird twist on it's idea, where the real ghost is the Phantom's remembrances of Christine. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to comment!

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