walk out -- free verse

hey, once he turns out the lights?
yeah, bro, i'm leavin'
who? you?
me, i'm just gonna walk out.
you can say it's sketchy,
but who's gonna stop me?
and once those lights go out,
i'm gone.

the grave robber -- sestina

I am a victim of steady hands
A chimera of skill and necessity
A harbinger of false hopes
A master of the most meticulous scalpel art
A surgeon of the darkest night
The worst kind of nightmare

You told yourself it was just a nightmare
When everything you held close at your hands
Fell apart and slipped into the night
Like a fleeing lover from the bed of necessity
Keeping it all together, dear, is an art
And in life, there's no room for lost hopes

For you, I had had higher hopes
I really wanted you to wake and see this nightmare
For what it truly was: A deceptive form of art
That you could mold with your own two hands
Because we are creatures of necessity
And dreams are just the needs of night

So when I happened across you that night
It seemed inevitable that I'd raise your hopes
And quell inside you the necessity
To find fear in all nightmares
I held your face between my hands
Seduction is also one of the finer arts

But that ruse, those theatrical arts
Were meaningless compared to the vastness of night
Your hands in my hands
It was nothing but words and your childish hopes
That brought me and your nightmares
Together out of greed and necessity

And it was by necessity
That we parted, I with the art
Of being just another nightmare
That could fade with the night
And leave you with broken hopes
That maybe you could still find solace in my hands

But nightmares aren't meant to transcend the night
It's never a necessity to understand the art
You'd hoped to succeed, but instead shook Death's cold hand

cliffs of damascus -- sonnet

Would you forfeit the light for the darkness?
The lives of all those living for one dead?
Your name, upon those ashen lips hearkens
The day that you look forward to with dread
The morning when you'll wake from your slumber
And hear the clock's soft ticking in your ear
Slowly winding down to that empty number
That end that you had feared for both is near
Fast forward to the cliffs, to one more plea
Hold his hand in this final moment of bliss
Is this really the end of you and me?
The sun touches the waves in one last kiss
Take a breath and soar with him in your arms
Your wings fall away leaving your skin bare
Another helpless victim of love's charms
Free-falling, flightless through the embracing air
Count out loud twenty-one Mississippi's
And then disappear together in the sea

goodbye -- villanelle

Violets are blue, roses are red
All those words that had never been said
When you wake up, you'll be dead

I tried so hard to end this right
Sorry for all the tears you shed
Violets are blue, roses are red

Sorry for my mistakes in life
But this, my greatest lies just ahead
When you wake up, you'll be dead

Sorry that you've sheltered your light
But maybe now that you're free, that light can spread
Violets are blue, roses are red

"I'm sorry"s are always hard to write
But goodbyes just as much I dread
When you wake up, you'll be dead

No more tears, no more strife
Put the gun against your head
Violets are blue, roses are red
When you wake up, you'll be dead

lycanthropy (or the ballad of sammy lyall)

Strange things happen by the light of the moon
When the air is quiet and still
And somewhere nearby, an animal cries
Giving passersby a chill

Walking one night through the forest of Keith
Bringing home sup for his mam
A couple 'o pheasants, a few small hares
And a pilfered hock of ham

Little Sammy Lyall spotted the strangest of sights
Weaving through the trees
A sharp-dressed man with a freshly killed lamb
Slung o'er his shoulder with ease

Little Sam shook his head and his face turned down
That man was up to no good
With a glance to his left and a peek to his right
Little Sammy ventured into the wood

The trees were dense and the was scrub thorny
But still Sammy soldiered forward
Determined to catch the man in some heinous act
And maybe earn a reward

Little Sammy was so smitten with delusions of gold
That he didn't even see
That before him was a large circular clearing
Where the man knelt down on his knees

Little Sammy stumbled blindly forward
And fell onto the grass
What happened next was so very strange
That nothing could surpass

The man turned then with eyes of fire
And looked down at where Sam lay
His mouth opened in the meanest of snarls
Sam found he had naught to say

Then the man shuddered and let out a moan
A blood-curdling growl
That rose in pitch until Sammy was sure
It had become a howl

His eyes closed and his body stretched
Sinuous and slick
And from his skin sprouted a curious coat
Of black fur, full and thick

Little Sammy could not hold back a cry
His heart hammered with fright
The man showed off his sharpened choppers
And Little Sam took off in flight

But the man -- now beast -- proved too quick
For Sammy to outrun
And now, alas, I must say
That Little Sammy Lyall is done

blue eyes -- dream poetry

I'm perpetually fenced-in by myself
Walking through parking lots and down the street
In the dark, I say hello to the people from the outside
Made of gray brick and bathed in an orange glow
They're ready to go
Leaning on cars, drinks in hand
I climb and they watch, stepping over brightly-lit objects that you never look closely at
In my pocket is a cigarette, a prop, and a black lighter
Behind my lips, the door swings shut and I flick once, twice
Immediately the flag ignites purple and goes up in smoke
I inhale to keep from dying out, broken and hard to operate
At the feet of people I know
Push the lighter on the sidewalk
Its my last, but it's irrelevant
Brush my hands against my leg and continue, ignoring the rest
In a quiet neighborhood of dark houses and swinging instruments
I hear my name called from an alley of white walls and cold tile floors
Behind blue sound-proof cushions is a burnt out shell, a pile of debris, and barbed wire.
They tell me I'm late
I can't talk, so I slip the plastic over my head and wind my hands with it
So I can hold the wire up for my faceless friends
They cry and squeeze through the door, tugging on the sticky handles until they give
As my shirt turns from white to red
I follow, scream when my feet slip in cases and barbs cut into my skin
Larger than the rest with a scratchy surface and a red strap to hold the lid on
They'll take care of me, they say
Grab my hand and squeeze tightly
Can't she feel the blood? Can't she hear the drums?
Through a crack in the door is more darkness
I feel people and hear whispers of "quiet"
"We don't live here, remember that"
Metal prongs take me by the arm and lift me to the tips of my toes
She has red hair and a name that sits on my tongue like cinder blocks
Drag me to the last door on the left, push me in, and lock it
Pack the bags and stare out the low-hanging ceiling
How easy it would be to run
To lift the harness by its padded shoulder straps
And pull it over my head
But I only move to hold everything steady with one foot
While my friends try to pull me away
Beside me are secure blue eyes and all I can do is stare

limricks for the morbid

I. There once was a age-ed vampire
Whose end happened to transpire
When the villagers came
With torches of flame
And burned him up in a fire.


II. There once was a man named Hannibal
Whose predicament was quite understandable:
People would faint
At whatever he ate
Because he was a cannibal.

on the occasion of...

...sleeping on a rock in a gnat-infested tent with three other people not wearing pants in 100 degree weather while water drips steadily onto your face and racoons are stealing your food outside.

This heat is almost too much to bear.
That's why I sleep in my underwear
Instead of that sticky bag of sheets
Of fabric through which no air can seep.
My neighbors, I try not to touch;
The heat from my own skin is quite enough
Without adding to it their smelly sweat.
How much worse could this night get?

A drip of water on my face.
Who? Where? From what place
Could this liquid possibly be pouring
While my tent mates continue snoring?
Another droplet from the ceiling.
I moan: That's how low I'm feeling.
All I want to know is why
Is there water when the night is dry?

I turn to avoid the water's stream;
A sharp pain in my back like a terrible dream
Reminds me that our tent is pitched
Over a rock that seems bewitched
To follow and prevent me from
Getting some rest once the day is done.
And no matter which way I turn and toss,
The positioning of that rock has me at a loss.

Something buzzes in my ear canal,
Making an awful whining sound.
So into my ears my headphones go
No music plays, they're only for show
And to keep the bugs from my ears, exposed,
Problem is now, they've found my nose
All I want is a little peace!
Will this nightmare ever cease?

And finally, once we all are sleeping,
The raccoons outside come a-creeping...

a special occasion

To whom it may concern:

I no longer have need for this room.
Do with it what you will.
Do not hesitate to strip the walls of the decorative picture frames.
I never really lived here anyway.

I no longer have need for my personal library.
Borrow anything without returning it.
Do not worry about the sentimental or monetary value of my collection.
I never read any of it anyway.

I no longer have need for these old letters.
Read them if you must.
Do not feel bad about throwing them into the fire or tearing them and shoving them in a garbage bag.
I kept them far too long anyway.

I no longer have need for any of the items in my closet.
Take from it what you want.
Do not think twice about simply dumping my clothes straight into the trash or donating them to a worthy cause.
They were never me anyway.

But I am keeping the black dress.
I think I have use for it yet.

colour

I am Red:
Red like the passion that beats in the hearts of man; blood-soaked and sodden, the organ keeps time; life's, love's metronome.
Anger like fire's flame, staining the skin with a blush, a burn, a stinging slap.
Heavy like lush velvet curtains and thick scarlet lip tint, seeping slowly like lava from my pores.

He was Black:
Black like the night before the storm and the grave before being graced by a lone candle's flickering flame.
Ravens, like the wing-ed seraphs of the devil, fly, ushering in darkness like tar, tarnishing love with inky streaks.
Fluttering like the mourning veil, the funeral shroud, the absence of light behind closed eyelids.

Conjoined, connected, twining together like fighting dragons;
Scales shimmering with pomegranate and midnight.
Volatile, dangerous, mingling together as the sky from pyre to ashes;
It fades to...

annabelle lee - respectfully borrowed from edgar allan poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabelle Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabelle Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
---
I made my way as the sun crept away
And the moon rose full above me
To the dreary place where my love did lay
In her tomb by the surrounding sea.
Somewhere nearby, a raven did cry
But what words could he have for me?

As I walked, my only thought
Was of the beautiful Annabelle Lee
Upon the door, her visage, I swore;
A ghost had appeared before me.
I jumped with fright, but a trick of the light;
She was not my Annabelle Lee.
Through the door and across the floor;
Her name on a large marquee
And under on its plinth sat
The body I'd come to see.
The tears did rise to my weary eyes
As I was greeted by my Annabelle Lee.
Death did suit her, I thought to myself.
With demure she smiled at me.
Though as I perceived her standing there,
Not quite as dead as should be.
There! No doubt another trick of the light;
(But still, and with alarming speed)
From her mouth, eye-teeth did sprout;
Revel, a devil, poised before me.

Thus was the change, the curse, the demise
Of the heart of my Annabelle Lee;
The heart which had beat for me.
And in her eyes, she could barely disguise
Her hunger, her thirst for me.
My love! I cried, and as I tried
To assuage her villainous spree
She caught me by the throat, this monster;
But yes, still my Annabelle Lee.
As the light died from my weeping eyes
And my life passed before me,
I knew my soul, with hers, was captured;
But for just once more, I was enraptured
By the embrace of my Annabelle Lee.

We'll live forever, her and me;
I and my Annabelle Lee