Ghosts

13 g h o s t s

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13

Voices echo down the hall & across the wall
In a white haze, everything's a blur, a white fog

And forms encircling 'round
And forms encircling 'round...

The constant tone of flesh and machine

Giving life...taking life
Giving life...taking life

Then comes the cold, flowing in your veins
Beware The Reaper's face
Making you insane...
You better shake off death!

Faceless GHOSTS twisting 'round
Don't follow the blindlight in their eyes
Or you'll be gone... Forever!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Though sterile institutions emerging Stronger still, through mental and physical dimensions of manmade terrors and wonders, The Beast prevails.

 _____________

The subject "sacrifice" somehow find themselves in a hospital room, after a bout with a sudden mysterious illness after drinking from a strange goblet unearthed recently on the grounds, thought to be part of a rumored hidden family treasure for centuries. The goblet was cleaned and preserved in a cabinet for display, yet recent birthday celebrations bid partaking from it for the special occasion. 

At about 13:00, the lights flicker, buzzing out incrementally until the flashing stroboscopic pulsations reveal forms moving about in the gloom, almost like 'white shadows' moving to and fro... of a sudden, black-holed eyeless, featureless faces appear forwards, overshadowing in a haze, drifting through the walls, out of the mirror, and through slowly creaking doors. As they near, the victim passes out... 

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Echo of a shadow

Echo of a shadow

By jfarrell

 

I am just the echo of a shadow;

Out of the night I jump at you,

Translucent, ghostly faces,

The mist caught by the moonlight.

The body that wore this face,

Long dead.

 

As the breeze moves amongst the leaves,

You hear my cries of joy,

Howls of frustration,

Cries of torment and agony.

The voice that sang my words,

Long silent.

 

Condemned a witch and sentenced to burn,

Here, where you stand,

I am long turned to dust

Part of the very ground beneath you.

My soul, that burns for revenge,

Still burns.

 

I am the echo of the shadow;

The shadow that dwells within your soul.

You are here because I call to you,

Blood of my blood, through the ages.

I surrender to you my witchcraft, my magic,

Now, go forth and unleash my vengeance.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

loved NIN's "copy of a copy"

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Across an empty hall

Across an empty hall

By jfarrell

 

My footsteps echo around me,

Ricocheting off the walls

To assault me

Like the voices of the long dead assembled.

 

The people, memories, who crossed this hall

Long before me;

Leaving fragments of themselves

To dwell here forever.

 

As the moonlight shafts in through the window,

The dust eddys and grows

To take on the very likenesses

Of those who went before me.

 

Black and grey shadows beckon and caution me;

I can almost hear them whisper

“This way, come.” “No, that way’s danger.”

Dread hangs in the air, enveloping me.

 

Startled by a tap-tap-tapping

I see a raven a rap-rap-rapping

In the middle of this empty hall

Dedicated to Lenore.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

when this poem started, e a poe was million miles from my mind ; just seemed right for him to pop up at the end there

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Immortality

Folder: 
Light and Dark

Sometimes I hear the ghosts of my past

Often they whisper in my ear

Just out of consciousness

Barely audible, but present

 

Memories of those gone by

Now immortal in my mind

Forever they'll exist in me

Or at least as long as I live

 

For we are scars on the membrane of time

Carving our existence deep into it's flesh

Dying to gain immortality

Our existence tantamount to the memories of others

 

 

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Ageless

Thirty-three years I’ve been here on this hill
Still I’m the age of 18
Il wait at my post for my mates to return
Who get older each time it does seem

You have put on a few pounds
Your hair it’s gone grey, but I remember that look in your eyes
When we loaded our rifles and charged up this hill Explosions lighting up the skies

I wish you could stay longer but I know you must go 
But don’t worry I will always be here
To watch over this hill, looking out for the foe
This soldier does have no more fear

Farewell my true comrades, drink and sing songs 
In the land of my forefathers over the sea
One or two won’t make it back next time
But they will be sitting on this hill with me

Eventually I know you will all be here, a battalion together Ah Men
Then we will all march at once through the doors of Valhalla 
The Gods have work for good soldiers again.

© Tony McNally

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Do the dead dream

Folder: 
Poetry

Down on forgotten beds
angels in stone
forever watch
those who sleep
in the arms of comfort
of the silent
and the still
of the dreaming worm

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Awakened

Folder: 
Poetry

 

The restless dead stir in the night
and creatures of shadow
loom over the cradle of living
souls
standing tall under the moon's melencholy light

Along victorian hallways dark and drear
silent maddness slithering, creeps
saying mind not the creaking
for
there exists no danger here

In a distant void terrified cats weep and wail
and parents struggle for sleep
praying against the unknown
the
chilling the anxiety the wet kiss of hell

Forlorne homes shiver and shake
thier yellow eyes glowing
burning low in the darkness
dancing
in horror for the hosts of innnocence they are here to take

Screetching shutters violently wag to and fro
in hopes of saving the sleeping
to shoo away the sorrow
from the dark ones the dreaming do not know

Against small feet tongues of shadow delightfuly taste
crawling slowly hissing
into the soundless ears of
babes
before the sunrises the dead must make haste

Whispers fade deep into the night
as creatures of the grave
slip from empty cradles of lonliness
once
occupied with love now filled with shrieking fright.

As the moon dies away beginning its long fall
the horrid moaning of terror
shall bellow long into day
and
the living left to wittness the restless shadow's eternal call.

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Troy

One of the greatest victories in history unravelled before her eyes, more gruesome than she ever imagined.

Flames and blood ignited in her mind as the powerful sight of the ruin forced a vision of the jewel city shattering in her mind.


The vision slowly ebbed away revealing the crumbles and ashes of the same city.

The smallest of her steps created a tornado of cinders around her.

After one step her knees no longer supported her and the ash covered her as completely as a cacoon when she fell.


Pain like the sting of a bee overwhelmed her eyes, blurring her vision. The once clear scene in front of her became a swirl of dark black smoke. Suddenly, a figure walked out into her hazy sight. As far as she could tell, the person was a woman with long silver hair that floated around her head like a halo. Steadily, her blinking cleared away the fog but once her vision was crystal clear again the woman was gone.


An apparition?

A hallucination?

Or just a slight trick of the fog?

Whoever or whatever it was, was gone. Now the bricks of the fallen city lay still, as silent as the darkest midnight. She stood up shaking off the last of the ash and walked into the city. Small buildings surrounded a marketplace, the type of place where a normal family might have walked and played and laughed. Farther down, there was an arena built into the ground. The pit was flooded with rains after being unkempt by the owner. Normal everyday life was taken from this city--and because of what--A pretty girl. Unfair doesn’t even begin to cover the senseless violence that occurred here, in Troy.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is only a part of a longer story that I'm writing, so sorry about anything that doesn't make sense out of context.

Ghosts?

Do ghosts really breathe around?

Or it’s the movies providing them oxygen,

And even the myths,

I think your words are logically bound.

 

 Have you ever seen one?

No, but they say that ghosts do exist,

What if they do,

Don’t let your conscience be driven by superstition.

 

Talking about ghosts is like welcoming them,

Just throw the notion out since there’s a hater of them i.e. realism.

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