PoetryFeedsOurSouls

It’s 12 pm and I’m getting prepared, to give some nice people a fright. I’m such a big lump and I’m going to jump, ‘cos I’m a Thing-that-Goes-Bump-in-the-Night. It’s a limited occupation, with quite a rigid routine, Just a bang and a groan, in some person’s home and it helps if you sound a bit mean! Quite effective if one’s a bit heavy And doesn’t mind bruises or sprains. Not scared of dark, or a rottweiler’s bark For there’s much to be said for the gains. For one thing there is no long training, And no heavy taxes to pay. Hours are short They are near enough nought! A

the shadows gather darkness bit by bit

Spring proclaims Her domain with Flowers!

My friends are so far away... But still so close anyway They always help me They give me hope We laugh and cry We talk and feel No matter how different We all get along And they mean a lot to me Because they're the best friends I have in this life

I don’t particularly give my characters  happy endings,  but I do wish  for the happy endings  of others’ characters. I guess I still believe in fairytales and blue dresses in threads of thin air—         the whole package deal. And I realise that’s not a bad thing. You see, I’ve been trying to connect  the me now                to the girl who saw everything to be nice. That’s the word. Nice. Simplified. Like the points in a connect-the-dots book.  And I’ve found her. Me.  But not e

Sadness Pain And misery All over My mind They follow me Always Haunting me Driving me Insane Bit By bit Until I go Mad

The moonlight paints everything silver While the spells of darkness are cast And the bodies of the dead are sunmoned An army of corpses comes to life and rises Marching towards the warmth of the living To feed on their soft and bloody flesh And their master laughs in his fortress For tonight the world is his to conquer

The speed of mankind Greed penetrates our veins The pace of humanity Our vision blurred Subconsciously Feelings suffocated Rule of designer drugs In designated spaces Creeping emptiness Held in check The senseless worship Of the pointless self New faith for the weak Pursuit of the simulated And obtainable The void sense of hope The shining of false gods Their vicious serpents Eat our children Yet unborn