Can one closet hold?
Far too many
That go untold!
And if they are freed,
What happens then?
Will they be back
To taunt once again?
Sometimes their voices
Can drive one insane,
Always threatening
And placing blame.
So if you should hear noises
Or voices that shout,
It could be your skeletons
Trying to get out!
We hadn’t lived here long,
When out of the corner of my eye,
Were these very dark shadows
That would quickly dart by.
Thinking it was mice,
Traps were set throughout our home.
But this wasn’t anything natural;
This was something unknown.
You can think it’s one’s mind
Just playing tricks,
But when others witness this,
The puzzle begins to fit.
This shadow figure
Had come from the closet into my room;
The atmosphere changed
To one of sadness and doom.
It started to speak about
When it had died,
And in the crawl space upstairs
Is where it now hides.
Its tone was like an animal,
If animals could talk.
Unbearable to hear—
I wanted it to stop!
A darkness so obscure
It moves one to tears;
It creates negativity
And thrives on fear.
Imitating loved ones
In order to disarm,
To gain one’s trust
And do real harm.
Leaving us drained
Of all energy,
And taking away more
Than one can visibly see.
A residual haunting
That stays behind,
Reliving itself
Over a long period of time.
We were advised to spiritually cleanse our home
By praying and having faith,
Because choosing to ignore it
Would only make it stay.
Whether it was brought upon you
Or you brought upon it,
It can attach itself to you,
And there it will sit.
Whatever lives
In the crawl space upstairs,
Now waits for a challenge
For anyone that dares!
I came to know
A wicked old troll,
Who grants wishes
For the price of souls.
Be careful what you wish for,
Because you just might get
Something later on
You’ll live to regret.
This troll named Urchin
Lives in a well,
Where many like him
Live and dwell.
Urchin comes off
As very charming,
But if he doesn’t get his way
It can be quite alarming!
Don’t be fooled
By his small frame,
He’s stronger than he looks
And can cause great pain.
Pretending to be harmless
And in distress,
Hoping to capture
His next conquest.
Walking by this
dried up well,
Is where I first
heard it yell.
Disguising its voice
Like that of a child,
Then propping himself up
With a wink and a smile.
He suddenly jumped out,
Reaching for me,
His odd little face
Was all I could see.
I was then thrown down
On the damp, cool grass,
While he stood over me
And begun to harass.
Insisting that I
Make a wish
While doubling up
His dirty fist.
Not wanting a wish granted
For the price of my soul,
I said, “No thanks, and no way!”
To this relentless little troll.
Very smug,
He looked at me, saying,
“You’ll be back,
Just wait and see.”
And as he left,
He loudly exclaimed,
“I grant many wishes
For each soul that I claim!”
There are lots of nice neighborhoods
With manicured lawns,
Until the night creeps come out
And something goes wrong.
Some of those people
Then show their true face,
As they snatch up each victim
Without any haste.
These night creeps eat flesh
With their gossip and lies,
As they leave one shattered
And left to die.
Their insults, like a knife
That cuts right through,
Believing to be righteous
In all that they do.
Talk about the kettle,
Calling the pot black;
If they looked in the mirror,
It would surely crack!
Worshipping something
They think to be God—
Nothing genuine,
Only fraud!
Night creeps don’t come
From just bad neighborhoods,
But from all walks of life—
Let that be understood.
Like reptiles
That live among themselves,
With no humanity
For anyone else.
They recognize those
That are just like them,
Excluding all others
That don’t fit in.
They are perfectly possessed
And difficult to see,
For they look a lot
Like you and me!
There are grave images
In my mind.
I see and hear them
All the time.
A seer of souls
Is what I am,
Watching those crossover,
Time and again.
Some say it’s a gift,
Some a curse;
It’s hard to say
Which is worse.
Living with this
Since I was a child,
And masking the fear
With a smile.
These grave images
I don’t ask to see,
Coming around
Unexpectedly.
Imagine spirits
That won’t go away,
Who impose on one,
Night or day.
It’s such a distraction
When they appear to me
In front of those
Who cannot see.
Hoping they go
Into the light,
While others would rather
Stay and fight.
This is something
I’ll never embrace,
And I will do my best
To try and erase.
And if back then
I was to explain,
Most would’ve thought
I was insane.
I’ve learned to deal with this
More cautiously—
These grave images,
I don’t want to see!
There once was a bride
And a groom
Who lived inside
A great big tomb.
Mummified together,
Joined for life,
For better or worse—
Now man and wife.
Wrapped in cloth
Like strips of long tape,
Leaving
their tomb
For a romantic escape.
Arms outstretched,
As if to walk in their sleep,
Frightening many
As they roamed the streets.
There was a festival in town,
Along with a costume ball,
Where no one suspected
Or took notice at all.
Gaping holes
Made from moths,
Leaving eyes to peer out
Through strips of cloth,
Stiff in movements,
Yet painting the town,
It’d been so long
Since they’d gotten around.
Venturing out
And taking a chance,
Yet coming unraveled
As they tried to dance.
They didn’t return
Till the next day at noon,
Yet glad to be back
Inside the old tomb.
Now tired and ready
For another long rest—
Preparing ahead
For the next big fest.
On the days and nights
Filled with fog,
Out comes the malevolent
Big black dog.
This phantom Great Dane,
With eyes like glass,
Who comes in a fury
To bring forth his wrath.
For those that call him
To do their bidding,
By seeking harm
Among the living.
He appears in many places,
Making his rounds,
Giving a warning
With deep, growling sounds.
Bigger than life,
This hound from the grave,
Who comes to devour
Those that he craves.
I saw this Great Dane
Trotting on by,
With a look of fury
In those stone cold eyes!
Then in a whirl
He spins around—
Spiraling downward
Into the ground.
With a smell of sulfur
Strong in the air—
This omen of evil
That once stood there.
It is said it returns
To the bottomless pit,
A blazing inferno
That’s brightly lit.
And if it should ever
Catch up to me,
Will it bring another
Stronger than he?
And so I fear
The mysterious fog,
And those who summon
The infernal dog.
Mr. McNasty is a spirit
That’s destined to roam.
He sneaks up unexpectedly
When you are all alone.
With a twisted sense of humor
That will almost stop your heart,
He knows your greatest fear
And in your soul he leaves his mark.
It started when he was young,
Long before he died,
He would follow kids home from school
And in their houses, he would hide.
He would wait until everyone
Was deep and fast asleep,
And then yank them off their beds
By the heels of their feet.
He would make a clean break
With no one knowing who or what had been there,
Leaving them shook-up and confused,
And in total and complete terror.
And as an older man
He offered to babysit for free,
The parents unaware
Of the tyrant he could be.
The children he babysat that day
Were never to be seen again.
And he was put away in a sanatorium
Where his life came to an end.
And what happened to the children?
Their whereabouts he never did confess.
And now he’s a restless ghost
Whose conscience cannot rest.
Now he’s been known to haunt
Those that are a lot like him;
And it’s that bad behavior
Which always invites him in.
Yes, Old Man McNasty
Still makes his presence known.
He waits until it’s quiet
And you are all alone!
A monster was set loose
A long time ago,
Creating more like him
So everyone would know,
That bigotry and ignorance,
Iniquity and hate,
Go hand in hand
And carry a huge weight.
By discriminating against those
Different from itself,
Fueled by hatred and
Nothing else.
Spreading its venom
Like wildfire,
Recruiting others
To hurt and conspire.
This horrible monster
That grew and grew,
That once enslaved
And was allowed to rule.
Always driven by
Race and creed,
Who plants its poison
And nurtures its seed.
It surfaces more often
Than one may think,
Pushing its victims
Beyond the brink,
Of the hurt and pain
Of being singled out,
Leaving one to question
What life is all about.
Sometimes hiding
Behind a hooded sheet,
While foaming at the mouth
And baring its teeth.
Bitter about the outcome
Of freedom for all,
This man-eating monster
Was bound to fall.
Defeated by those
It tried to oppress,
Yet relentless and angry
And left in distress.
To live in such anger
All of the time—
But what peace does prejudice
Ever find?
They said the house was theirs,
Though it’s always been mine,
For I’ve lived here always—
For such a long time.
Still they insist on making
Themselves at home
By invading my privacy,
In which they won’t leave me alone.
Religious ceremonies performed
Throughout my house,
Stating once and for all
For me to get out!
It’s their turn now,
So they say.
“Move on with the others,
You cannot stay!”
I ask them why
They stubbornly remain;
Have they no decency
Or any ounce of shame?
“This is our house,”
They loudly exclaimed,
“You no longer have rights
To stake any claim!”
They went on to say
That I had died,
And that this house belongs
To those still alive.
I can honestly say
I did not know
That this was the reason
I had to go.
“Leave quickly,” they said,
“For it’s way past time,
Because what used to be yours,
Now is mine.”
Sharon had rented a new apartment
And was looking all around,
When she came across an item
That was lying on the ground.
It had beads and feathers
Based on a wooden hoop,
With a green-knitted net
Woven into a loop.
It had been a charm
To ward off bad dreams,
To get rid of night terrors,
And good luck it would bring.
And only the good dreams
&n
bsp; Would be able to filter through,
Making it sometimes possible
For these dreams to come true.
But little did she realize
That this dream catcher was on overload
From the nightmares of previous tenants,
Now ready to unload.
Admiring this decoration,
That was suspended from a string of yarn,
Would soon cause sleepless nights
And only do her harm.
Not knowing one should never
Keep a dream catcher that’s been used,
Because of what’s been snared in it
Can now seep through.
Sharon kept this charm
And hung it on the ceiling.
That night she had horrible dreams
That left her mind reeling.
Every single night,
A different night terror
Left her exhausted
And feeling such despair.
She was dreaming of hooded figures
Surrounding her bed,
Applying heavy pressure
To the back of her head;
Then an old hag
That would creep in the night,
Holding her in a chokehold
And squeezing very tight;
And then a giant spider
Chasing her down,
Falling in its web
And unable to make a sound.
Fed up and frightened,
She went where these charms were sold,
And was advised how to dispose
Of the one that was old.
Not really wanting another one,
Though this new one had been blessed,
Sharon’s dreams were normal now
And she finally got some rest.
And if you should come across a dream catcher
Make sure it’s not used,
Or someone else’s nightmares
Will come upon you.
He met she on line
While surfing the internet.
They decided to meet in person,
And so the date was set.
Still they continued to chat
Until that special time,
And both referred to the other
As being mighty fine.
They sent photos
Back and forth,
While letting nature
Take its course—
Excited and nervous,
Yet pleasantly surprised,
When that special moment
Had finally arrived.
They both met for dinner and dancing—
Such a romantic atmosphere.
They slow danced to the music
While he whispered in her ear.
Grave Images, Vol. I Page 2