The Grim

I only started to die, when I met you,

Buried myself in the avalanche that I’ve conjured

From the panic, you’ve projected, out of my darkest depths

And into cognizance, which rattled around my haunted corridors,

So I knew, I had to protect myself

From you -a person I was supposed to trust, blindly,

But the realization stayed dormant,

For how long, has stayed in a heavily shrouded mystery,

But I’ve emerged, out, from my walking coma

And into a frenzy, to build walls, that you broke into rubble,

Resurrected instinctively, several times, only to be dismantled,

Leaving me, to defend myself, against a ravenous ambush

In the floating debris, of my shattered bunker,

How can I shield myself, against a friendly enemy,

So devious and cunning, for you knew my thoughts

Even before, they were desperately forged,

You must have engorged yourself in my habits

And now, I find myself battling my own tendencies,

There was no measure, for how much time had vanished,

Just the shock, of the icy cold water, swallowing me hastily,

Where was I, between the swirling consciousness

And the moment, your silken voice, echoed within my canal,

A blank space, that stretches further than any exploration,

Instead of fighting, against the toppling devour,

I tried to drown myself, with you hooked, into my deterioration,

But you helped me swim, as the waves crash against the frailty,

Dragging me against, and towards, an unforeseen end.

A Recipe for Survival

Art by Dave Lebow

A delicious meal, being made, by a ferociously starved giant,

A pinch of salt, to bring out the bitter sweetness

In the young tender meat, marinating in a cage of fear

As the broth stirs into a simmer, begging, for the ingredient

That’s making the giant salivate, at the trembling pot,

The giant, glances over to the far end of the counter,

Finding two shivering, overtly malnourished children,

The beastly giant licks her lips, collecting the excess saliva,

And all the children can do, is stare, as they drown in distress,

Trying to ignore the storm brewing, in the giant’s empty gut

That exudes a thunderous rumble, calling out, to those meat sacks

Who were scanning the oversized kitchen, for deliverance,

But to no avail, they were still caged, in a living nightmare,

Wondering, if they’d survive, the bleakest of moments,

They couldn’t even recall, how many moon cycles have passed

Since they were abducted, picked right off their backyard tree

Where they had spent days, staring up at the stationary cloud,

Legend of its gray presence, pervade the town’s sense of security,

Curiosity, distracted the two children, who lived in discomfort,

Struggling with the abundancy of their impoverishment,

They perched upon the top branch, trying to distance themselves

From the swarming straits, affecting their cold home,

At the same time, climbing closer to the gray fixation,

Is it possible, that the giants in the cloud, are without melancholy,

A shared daydream, that haunted the children’s cognizance,

Now, aware and locked, in the their own caged disquiet

They find the giant, approaching with their stringy fingers

Clawing it’s way, through the impermeable gray,

Straight, towards the earthquake rattle, of the cage,

The giant lifted the steel entrapment, to face it’s delicacy,

The children scurry, as far away, from the giants face,

Which is pressed up to the tiny bars, squeezing

Its nose in, and inhaling, their sweet delicious aroma,

“Not to worry, your torment ends, as soon as you hit the broth,

Boiling, calling out for you, and yes, even the broth is excited,

How lucky I was, to have sniffed out, your perfume.”

Indeed the giant was lucky to have tumbled and stumbled

Out of the cloud after, what seemed like a purgatorium search,

She scored for the last ingredient, which became a rarity,

For the land has grown scarce, of this highly sought after delicacy,

The most hunted, for it is the tastiest and most tender meat,

Wondering, with her sight hazy, and rapidly diminishing

She followed a scent, her nose kept calling her onward

As she failed to notice, the edge, of her depleting world,

Sending her crashing down, to the wanderlust children,

She caused a colossal commotion, sending onlookers

To their windows and doors, spying at the settling dust,

Awaiting for the cause, to be unveiled from beyond the curtain,

With the aid of an oncoming storm, its gusting winds

Pushed aside the veil, and there she was, the monstrous giant,

But to the children, she was salvation, the answer to their query,

As the townspeople gathered arms, the children softly approached

And recognized, the trembling, in the giants wide stare

That was following the chaos, that started to swarm

The unknown, an empty land, except for tasty treats,

It was hard to breathe, to inhale the air’s thickness,

Her hunger, was ferociously tearing herself up inside

But her attention, was now on the lack of breath

And how quickly, the town readied their defences,

The townspeople anticipated this moment, knew of its existence,

So when she fell, the atomic tremor, had awoken the riot,

And yet, the children’s curiosity, pulled them forward,

The town behind them, filling the night with a raging fire

They called out to her, as she still layed in her self made canyon,

“Giant! We are tired of this world and want to see where you reside.”

She gave a soft nod, and layed her hand for them to climb

Which had outraged the town ever further into fury,

She had the children in her hand and towered,

Saw the onslaught of the town quickly advancing,

Looked around, and saw a mountain, with its peak in the clouds,

That’s where she can get back to her own familiarity,

Her stride, had a much farther reach, that she pulled ahead

And lost the town within moments, as she neared her stairway,

She needed her hands, so she shoved the children into her pocket

The mountain was before her, and it was a simple ascension,

Eager and excited as she easily made her way back home,

Easier to breathe, as her hunger was now again, her focus,

Which brings us here, to her bouquet of aromas

That is taking over her entire home, a delicious allure,

She seasoned the broth with spices and homegrown vegetables

As the children wanted so much, to engulf the contents,

Only, they were to be the last addition to the waiting concoction,

They damned their own lust for something different

As the giant reached for the children, prying them off the bars,

And now all they had to hold onto, was each other,

Dangling above the steaming pot, they could swear they saw a face

In the overturning broth, with splattering lava

Jumping out from the quaking pot, almost burning their bare feet,

The boy looked at his sister, hugged her tighter

And just as they were let go, to plunge into the volcanic pot,

He shoved her, just outside its reach, as he plummeted,

She heard his terror filled cries, as she hid behind tall food scraps,

The giant, blind from hunger, didn’t even notice,

But before long, the giant had a full stomach and a wide smile,

And when a giant is that full, it desperately needs to sleep,

Leaving the kitchen a mess, and the girl to her lonesome

It’s a perfect opportunity, for the now angry girl, still in hiding,

Just like climbing up and down her tree, just outside her window,

She climbed, to the giants throat, and avenged her brother

With a chipped off piece of a knife, left out on the counter

That she had acquired, from the rage that filled her heart,

She ran the fragment across the blubbered gully

As the giant bled out, dying whith a belly full of deliciousness,

And the girl, never left, she stayed in the clouds.

Doomsday’s Arrival

Art by Mark Bryan

The winds, starts to rattle the grey shudders violently

As it smacks feverishly, against the rattling windows,

Lightning so fierce, it streaks across an angry sky,

Then grumbles louder than the thunder that preceded,

A man rushes down the stairs, knocking over a lamp

And pushing aside a chair on his way to the shelving unit,

Resting on one of the shelves, is a framed snapshot of the family,

He grabbs it, punches the glass, takes the photo,

Then finds the car keys, resting on the table in the shallow light,

Cast by the over casting doom, fear overtakes him

As he yells out to his family, to hurry their task,

For the impending future, stampedes toward them,

He yells again, as he heads towards the window

And finds the two rolling horsemen of the world’s demise

On the approach, and their only chance of survival,

Was beyond their home, to which he yelled one last time

Before the entire family rushes out, together, all at once,

They pack the car, with all they could shoulder,

Kicking the dirt up, they sped away from the rampage,

A little easier to breathe, until the home they loved,

Where they built their family, was so easily picked apart,

All they could do, was trek ahead, hoping to survive,

The road was silent, as they passed through abandonment,

Even inside the car, not even the white noise of silent air waves,

He started to relive fond moments, it was where he fell in love

Many times, over and over again, with his wife

And their two kids, engraved, into those homey walls,

That no longer echoes the past, those intimate moments

Is shipwrecked, by the tidal wave of this apocalyptic end,

He looks over at his wife, struggling to find his voice,

“Do you think, we will ever rediscover ourselves,

Here, in the mist of what was, hiding from annihilation,

Will we ever rest, the fear gripping us, and lay upon soft grounds,

Or does it even matter, as long as we can huddle together.”

She speaks, within them, while looking back at the children,

“There was a promise, we made after our protracted conversation,

But you haven’t held up your end, not yet, there’s still time.”

He looks back towards her, then back to the emptiness,

“I don’t know if I can, what happens afterwards,

The unknown road, that will lead us to the next phase of life,

I want to remember all of us, you, in your bathing suit

Running around after the kids, as I play the announcer,

And after catching them in your arms, we all pose.”

“The same bathing suit, I’m oddly wearing at this moment.”

Suddenly he notices it, the same outfits in the still,

A winter chill, grew inside, as he let those words vibrate,

Why is she wearing the same exact suit from the picture,

He pulls over suddenly, swerving, stopping yards away

From a new set, of this impending conclusion,

“You did it, you went through with what we discussed.”

“There’s nowhere we can run, that’s why we decided to die together,

In our own way, beyond what was trying to keep us apart,

I understand your fear, after seeing our deaths,

But you can still find us, after you jump into the void.”

He pulls the photo from his pocket, they’re living in that moment,

And that’s where he should be, once he shuts his eyes,

He sees the engulfing black swirl of doom approaching

As he stares into the eyes, of the one with tattered wings,

A wad of tears, choking his words, he whispers to her ghost,

Looks calmly down at the passenger seat, backseat

And behind his, smiles, a tear held in the arch of his curved lip,

Takes a deep breath, in the knowing, they are simply, not there.

Dorian Poe 2019

Nightmare VI

I’m spun around, and around, a phantom, toying with me,

Hiding, in the stretched out darkness

That im forced to trail, with my hand in front

Guiding, me further in, but with caution,

A sinking anchor inside the hall that seems to be collapsing

All over me, and through to lay on the ground

As I step, and crack the pieces, splintering in the echo,

Lost in the canyon of a hollow structure, I plant myself,

A doomed convection of light, seen, but ignored

As its brought me to this point, this horror

That seems to be my constant downfall,

Alone in the corridor, still feeling out blindness

With a broken cane, and an unwillingness, to surrender,

A wanderer who has to proceed along the daunting route

Only to find, that there is no wall,

Not on the side, in front or behind,

Wide rim, yet I follow the forward path

As if it calls to me, a siren aware of my torment,

Stolen threads, pulled on to unravel secrets,

A blank spot now, as they vanish,

Now I remember, what I’ve been blindly chasing,

Is it too late?

A Monster’s Sanity

~The Low Rising~

Blistering cold it was, the day it all began,

The clumped society wrapped in mounds

Of fleece, gloves, scarves -and themselves,

Some, more than others, who stomp through

Avoiding the excrement that they, in fact created,

Full circle motivation kind of thing,

But who are those, who ponder in the outer limits,

Not those who roam, with desolation

Consuming their minds, no not them,

For they stick up thier illiterate noses

At the stepping stones that crowd

Their supposed, high privileged feet,

No time to waste, steamrolling through to their perch,

Just to look down upon all those they crushed,

The degraded ones who still struggle,

Rubbing pennies together in their pocket,

Salivating over the idea of a hot, freshly cooked meal,

No bother to the Ivory tower, comfortable

In their bubble, but what if it burst,

What if someone was to slither through,

And remove a vital piece, from that skyscraper,

Would everything crumble, the whole structure

Of the privileged and all they hold so dear,

Who would even be brave enough

For such a task, as to take down the privileged

And show them the underbelly,

Oh but how and who, would lead such a movement

A revolutionary devious one, only to be jailed,

Oh, but how beautiful it would be to see it all, tumble down.

~The High Side~

Her phone has been stunted, and she reveled

In the solace of not having a surge of calls

And messages from missed calls, on top

Of text messages about those messages

After she had missed those calls -it was calm,

For once, she was alone with her own thoughts,

Quickly got bored, along with the song she was humming,

Started to leaf through a stack of paper loan applications

Until, she found one worthy of her weighed out time,

She noticed something in it, an error clothed and shaded,

But there it sat, pasted onto the page, and as she glared

At the ridiculous infraction, there was a rush of fury

Cursing, at her subordinates in her enraged mind,

Those beneath her, should have caught the oversight

As she grabbed her office phone, dialed feverishly

And awaited for the silence, just before sudden connect,

But it took too long, an automated voice recording,

She cut it short and hung up, spun around to her wide window

Overlooking the crown of the city

With the sun, just setting behind the mountainous buildings,

She checked her watch, crawling towards the end of the day

Praying the phone stays silent, as she stared

Repeating, “don’t ring!” over like it was her mantra,

And then, it rang, alarmingly jolting her from her solace,

“Now you call me back.” She said without answering,

“Its too late now, the application is submitted as denied,

And you can’t fix the mistake you made, not me,

Its almost five, I have a life outside of these walls,

If only you picked up when I called you…”

It stopped ringing, silence slithered back,

She smiled and collected herself,

Her jacket, scarf, gloves, and the stack of papers,

Dropped them all off, and headed out to catch her train.

~A Monster’s Fascination~

“There’s nothing better than feeling a heart flicker out.”

I said outloud and to myself,

Audible, so that I can hear the words

And as I sat there, I ingested those words,

Thought about each syllable and pronunciation,

Analyzed every pitch in that phrase,

All the while, it was provoking me,

The phrase -there was something about it

That drove me insane the more I thought about it,

I’ve experienced those words, ear to their chest

As the drum, after a loud rapid percussion

Stats to slowly weaken, bit by bit,

Yet, saying these words at a time of lull

Does something else, a feeling

That stirs in my gut, and echoes throughout,

Absent, from the world outside my infatuation,

Even the ringing phone, blaring,

Is muffled, inside my crowded clouded shell,

The urge grows and grows, bursting

Cracking the fragile shelled cave,

Sending me out from my solitude

And into materialality,

Walking, amongst the sea of ignorance,

Until I find her, the one that has no consideration,

Hiding behind her own pedestal, charging past

The mass, those she treats as the dense,

I use my charm, she falls victim to it, surrendering,

Without realizing, she’s in my grasp,

With my ear to her chest, listening

As the drum, grows faint

And I find, a satisfying end, to the quench,

For now, the urge has been hushed,

But it will bloom again, and then, the rest will fall.

Out From the Drift

The events, that have led you into the drift, remain vague,

Stunned at the absence that crowds you, as a flutter

From the stinging bitterness of the swarming tundra

Causes a twinge, down the seam, of the fragile fabric,

You struggle, with the blurred recollection, violently dragged

Into the listless stray, and abandoned, as you proceed

In solitude, leaving you open to the blueak, still silence

Of a constant stream, afloat, here in this winter desert,

Straining to clarify what’s embedded within the pouring mist,

You slowly crouch, below the constant stream

And notice a crow, perched above, stretching its beak apart,

Expecting it to echo a screech, but this hush stays intact,

Hidden, in the thick darkness hovering atop the contrast

Is the hunter, and you, their paranoid, panicking prey,

Softly, does this stealthy pursuer glide through the desolation

Never losing sight of you, while you wonder inside your rattle,

Trying to discover the path, beneath the iron curtain,

You seek blindly, unaware of the sinking ground

Below the weary traipse, of a lost, rusted anchor,

Amused by your fatigue, the stalker readies the attack,

Tightening the spread, quietly, with precise patience,

Oblivious and still, you follow your own exhalation

To prove to yourself, of your own, beating existence,

It’s time, to challenge the draught, but where is the well,

And now, here I stand, above my fading martyr,

You’ve always lived in the drift, escaping my persistence

For far too long, until this night, when you gazed upon silent death,

Only I can hear its shrill voice, calling to me, my hound,

It’s a pity how memory can fade, and vanish from the freeze,

Finally now, the drift is completely vacant and abandoned,

Visited

I lay my head down, eager to drift into a somber huddle,

But I feel an outstretched, bleak reach invading

My chest, sunken in, cracking the cage around the castle,

As silence stands, defenseless against the owl’s screech

I shut my eyes, and try to halt the vigorous spinning

Inside my head, as flashes of probability, is projected

Onto the backs of my eyelids, who is this visiting,

A touch, familiar, enlarges the drumbeat’s echo,

While I can’t distinguish, this perplexing occurrence,

I know it’s desire, its prelude to the awaited for cessation,

An evident resident, in the eerie hours of unrest,

How many nights, does this being visit my side of the bed

To watch me tremble, knowing of its ominous presence,

Even then, I have sleep paralysis from an absent dread

That surfaces, from its deep growl, and slowly ascends

Over me, gaining a glimpse, into my palpable panic,

Rapid, boisterous breathing and a feverish sweat,

Happens within a tick of an old, dried up clock,

Forgotten to be wound up, and given a entryway

For those that time, gives no pardon.

Nightmare V: Scorned

Follow me down the unforeseen, as you strain

For my hand, hoping that can settle the constant wavering,

Currents push and pull your sight, as the pressure

In your unstable mind, turns it to a vast emptiness,

You start to choke, on the words you’ve tried to sink,

Hoping they’d be lost, never to crawl back up your gullet,

Didn’t realize, the girth, as your fluttering eyes swell,

A drink, placed before you, to help ease the decent,

As I move a chair for which you occupy, it becomes a casket,

Buried, in the forgotten icy depths, emerges my relief,

I chain the gates of insanity shut, turn towards the horizon

To walk away, as your voice comes through, chills

My painful exhale, seeing the fog roll out from my lips,

It grabs hold, tight grip around my entire being

And I can’t help my tremors, running all through my nerves,

Crashing me back down, to that polar ocean chasm,

You’re latched on, disallowing my persistent disconnect

So you can continue to taunt, living inside the stormcloud,

I get up, sprint ahead, as my lungs tighten and burn,

Yet I haven’t gone anywhere, I’m running inside the plot

That has grown stagnant, yet I believe the reel spins,

Alone, in a small dark theater, buried in hypnosis,

Aware, yet unable to escape, a grasp, itself unaware

Of its overbearing tenacity, huddled tightly to a broken clock,

I slowly creep, towards the silence, as she turns

In consternation, of my present approach,

“Death is vengeance, eradicating measure to which we cling to.”

A boom! Hurdling me back in, to the suffocation,

Floating in the open congestion, blind to every direction.

Ever Running

How often, does that moment repeat,

Like a jagged puzzle, it gets pieced together

Right in front of you, just the same it gets dismantled,

It plays out, every second, in every direction,

Looking into the twisted crystal ball that you can’t let go,

Your mind is overtaken, they all flood the gates

A million voices, stampeding and screaming

For their part to be heard, pushing over one another,

Trying to squeeze through to the front

Just to tear you down a bit more, until you’ve vanished,

Gone into the void, still with those barking thoughts

That seem to be racing around, chasing after itself

As if its trying to catch the villain, not realizing

Their the one with the glowing red eyes,

As they continue emphatically bouncing

Off every echoing wall, and crashing back down

Shaking the stillness within, as you wrestle alone,

Hearing their chatter, louder as they jump

Off ledges, landing beside and all around you,

And all you want, is to sleep.

The Runnaway and Her Guide

Her heart, bears down in her caved in chest, like an anchor,

Too heavy, are her steps that make deep impressions

In the soft snow, leaving her trail as she tries to vanish

From a villainous, overbearing shadow, closely following

As she sluggishly drags herself, wounded by a distraction,

A path, that sat so clouded, she couldn’t see the descent,

Fallen, so far down the rabbit hole, with the weight forcing

Her down further, nothing to ease her into liberation,

The shadow, ingests any inkling of light, trying to squeeze

Through a swell of darkness, only to have her crash

Back into the clinging holds of the shadow’s depression,

She claws at the abyss, escapes and carries her sorrow,

On the run again, she’s found, but by a carrier of light,

An albino raven, hoping to carry her heart, in aid

So that she can fade, past sight of the stalking shadow,

So the raven takes hold, of her weighted torment

As she starts to walk, a little easier, leaving no trace

For the eager and engrossing shadow to plague,

Yet it rolls forward, sniffing for her distinction,

Closing in, the raven urges, for the runaway to hasten

As the raven feels her slipping, back into extinction,

He then spreads his wings, eclipsing the rolling black,

Hoping to cloak her, with her languid fractured heart,

The raven does not abandon her side, as she collapses,

But now, a shallow drop, for she has her loyal guide

To carry her out of the fog, and when she slips again,

He’ll pick her back up, filling in the shadow’s nest,

To one day, sustain the crushing pendulum of her anguish.