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A Haunting

Sirens cut through the city at midnight Seeping into the holes and the cracks in the street I'm laying in bed, eyes closed, shallow breathing Fighting the ghosts that keep me awake There's a leak in the ceiling, like the house has been crying Dark yellow mascara trailing stains down the walls I feel the earth shaking in time with my heartbeat "The morning is coming," A far-off rooster calls

Something has died outside of my window Maybe a cat found, at last, its ninth place to rest Maybe a rat the dog caught and left in the gutter Its spirit crawled in, made a home in my chest The night air is still, so the spirit, it lingers My face tracked with pin-pricks, spit-stains in my lungs I feel the oil of its soul as it pools in my fingers And it's screaming its name in the back of my tongue

In the morning I'll find it, stiff body decaying Infested with maggots that squirm through its veins As the heat of the sun turns its skin into leather In the morning, I'm burying all that remains At least that way, the earth can embrace its body At least that way, its fur isn't washed off by rain At least that way, its bones aren't sun-bleached and brittle At least that way, its smell wouldn't cause me more pain

But tonight as I breathe, I can hear it start crying A symphony wails with each shallow breath A ghost in my lungs, fighting over my body Lacking a wake, it mourns its own death Tonight my breath joins sirens and insomniac roosters With the moon as their witness, let the flies have their say Tonight a spirit haunts me, and leaves me bedridden As its body lies hidden 'till the breaking of day

Something has died, outside of my window I have a feeling it wants me to know

#original poem #poem #allergies

These city streets,

How old are they?

And how much dust has gathered here,

Pressed into sheets of solid grey?

How many cars have hurried past,

En route to work or cooler climes;

How many people walked this maze,

And reminisced of better times?

And of the trees that lined the sides,

That cast a shade and bore their fruits.

How many of them live today,

To crack the tarmac with their roots?

How many layers of concrete were laid,

To cover the cracks made by years in the sun?

And how many layers of tar, concrete, soil,

Before we get to the tracks of a people long gone?

How much of history happened right here,

In phone calls, in rallies, parades, and in crashes?

Think of the mysteries waiting to be solved,

As that last missing piece sits by roadkill and trash.

How many lives have crossed their paths,

On worn out wheels and weary feet?

How many years of life have been lived,

Upon these city streets?

#poem #original poem #urban poetry

New cinematic slasher film: The Kriller

Cautionary character that no one listens to until it's too late: "He's gonna turn you into dozens of krill."

Final Girl: "Don't you mean hundreds?"

CCTNOLTUITL: "Oh honey, there won't be enough of you to turn you into hundreds."

Guy who dies first: *Laughs* "And then what? He's gonna feed us to the whales?"

Fade to black

Voice of The Titular Kriller: "I'm gonna Krill you."

The sound of dozens of krill swimming around in a bucket.

Coming to theaters this spring 2095

#the kriller #CCTNOLTUITL #dozens of krill #slashers #came to me in a fever dream #after bingeing the Game at Carousel #i hope theaters still exist 2095

When you were born, the prophets,

Heralded a king.

A man who's wise and strong and kind,

Who's experienced... Everything.

They taught you to be poet,

A philosopher and scribe.

And had you learn the languages,

Of everything alive.

They taught you to be soldier,

A warrior without peer.

Regardless of the threat to you,

You'd cut them when they neared.

They tried to crown you king, then,

But you knew of things you lacked.

To truly fill the prophecy,

You decided to step back.

And so began your journey,

You wandered near and far.

You learned of all the joys in life,

And walked among the stars.

But still you felt it calling,

That promise. Everything.

As long as it was not with you,

You knew you'd not be king.

You learned of every pleasure,

Inflicted every pain.

Were taught the magic of the world,

And nurtured every grain.

Such knowledge was not easy,

Your body sagged with age.

But Death could not quite claim you,

While you were on Fate's page.

Your prophecy protected you,

Your title not forgotten.

But when you went to claim your crown,

The kingdom had long fallen.

You found a crumbling ruin there,

The castle overgrown.

So sat you on the firmament,

Of what was once the throne.

And spoke you to the scavengers;

The termites and the ants;

The birds; the beasts that burrowed;

And all the creeping plants,

"I'd like for you to teach me,

"I've lots I've yet to learn.

"And maybe once I've learned from you,

"My kingdom will return."

The scavengers taught you hunger,

To stalk the trail of greater beasts.

To take what they would leave behind;

On bones and offal feast.

From termites there was hunger still,

To feast upon the walls.

You tasted every fixture here,

In these abandoned halls.

The ants they taught subservience,

The duty that you lacked.

To serve the Queen and keep on serving,

Until your body cracked.

From the birds, you learned of freedom,

And felt the boundless sky.

Eventually, you learned as well,

To grow your wings and fly.

And then you learned to burrow.

The safety of the earth.

For every shadow flitting past,

You learned what you were worth.

Then hundreds of years later,

The vines were thick as trees.

And from them you learned patience,

And how to spread your leaves.

At first, upon your body,

Just one began to grow.

Then dozens more would sprout up,

Even as your body slowed.

And while your leaves fed you upon,

The sun that shone above,

Your legs dug deep into the ground,

And tasted the earth's love.

With every passing animal,

That scratched its name upon your skin,

You learned some more of "everything".

And stretched a feeble grin.

Your fingers grew like twisted branches,

You felt your old bones creaking.

With every gust of wind, you strained;

You almost heard it speaking.

And from it heard a hundred teachers,

The forces of the world.

You'd come to learn from each, in time.

And watch the world unfurl.

The stars, the wind, the sky, the earth,

The sun, moon, day and night.

And so learned thee from gravity,

Why shadows flee the light.

The prophecy's yet so distant,

"Everything" out of reach.

The world, nay, the whole universe,

Has much it's yet to teach.

And maybe once you've studied time,

You'll learn to reach the past.

To claim your rightful crown and throne,

And be a king at last.

#original poem #poem #writing #the prompt was 'born cursed'#waiting #i think there's something wrong with him

I guess I should post something? I've always wanted to share my writing somewhere. Here's as good a place as any iguess. Let's start with something simple. Here's a poem I whipped up in like an hour for school related purposes.

How often do you...

Cut your nails

Clean your ears

Count your blessings

Face your fears

Take some time off

Wash your shoes

Say "I Love You"

Say "I Do"?

Think about those little things

That make up life

Before your baggage

Twists the knife?

Remember always,

Change your sheets

Sit up straight

Eat your breakfast

Don't be late

Please say "Thank you"

Wear a smile

Talk to strangers

Walk a mile

Because these brittle breadcrumbs

Are left behind you so you're sure

When you look back and see them there,

You'll know just who you were.

#poem #original poem #how do tags work #like this?#is there a rulebook #for like how tags work #because I can just do this #woagh #anyway #hope you enjoy

A joke by me

A game show host, here referred to as BA, asks the three contestants Guy A, Guy B, and Guy C what fruit this is.

Guy BA starts with Guy C.

BA, to Guy C: What kind of fruit is this?

Guy C, to BA: I don't know.

Thus establishing the fact that Guy C did not know the answer, Guy C receives no points and BA moves on to the next contestant.

BA, to Guy B: You've mentioned visiting in Africa, South Asia, and South America. All places where this fruit grows. I'm sure you've seen this kind of fruit before in the market. Do you remember what it is called?

Guy B, BA: I can't remember.

Finally, it is Guy A's turn.

Guy C, to Guy A: Good luck.

Guy A looks confident as everyone's attention turns to him.

BA, Guy A: And as for you Guy A, do you know this fruit?

Guy A, BA: No.

#bad jokes #guyabano #GUYS THE JOKE IS THAT THERE'S A FRUIT NAMED GUYABANO

He let me down.

#rick astley #UP #up 2009 #coraline #coraline 2009 #never gonna give you up #never gonna let you down #never gonna make you cry #made in ms paint

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