Devil in the Sea

The abandoned sea banks rock the decaying boats

That waver endlessly, against the barren docks,

Once, so alive and populated with thriving catches,

It now resembles a wasteland, long forgotten about,

But has it, just because no foot dares to occupy 

The unattended pier, does is get misplaced

To fend for itself against the punishment of time,

Slowly eroding the town into a whisper, all because 

A mystery beyond the black, the Devil in the sea, 

Its existence, clouded by a myth spread into panic,

A steep decline into oblivion, with no way back,

A horrid stench of rotting death pervading the heavy air, 

The scarred town living under the umbrella

Of this over told fable, to the point where it’s merely

A story told, repeating off different tongues, but

It’s true depth has been diluted, fabricated 

Into a ghost encounter, in which the lone survivor

Still buried in a living grave, wanders the true story

That won’t relinquish its talons from his forgotten mind, 

He has lost recollection of his entire past,

Except his Devil in the sea, which haunts his consciousness, 

It seemed like a distant dream for so long, until decay

Spread over all he knew, and all that was left

Was the glare from the dark empty water, 

On his last day, he started from the dock into the abyss,

Tightened his tie, and fell into the arms of the sea, 

But not before leaving, his telling of what happened, 

The day that had lived in infamy, for a different reason,

“I remember nothing, but the day I came to face

The Devil that roams the sea beside this stink town, 

It’s why I was so attached to the sail, free from the idiots,

I was happy amongst the open serene waters, 

And I knew them well, I navigated every channel, 

Bestowing my knowledge on a young eager sailor,

We would come back with bountiful catches, 

There was nothing better, I’d live in the sea if possible, 

One day, there were talks of an impending storm,

But mere rumbles weren’t going to keep me from my escape, 

I went out with the young lad, despite the warnings, 

In retrospect, I should have never left the dock, 

The winds were forceful, thrusting us off course

Into waters I never sailed, never even seen on any map,

Still within the eye of the storm, we did all that we could

To stay afloat, with gusts of stinging rain beating us,

The boat tipped so far to the side, I lost my grip 

Fell into the choppy ice water, swallowing me whole,

The lad did all he could to lift me out from the devour

Into the unsteady pulsating crumbling boat, 

Slowly vanishing into the storm, blending into chaos,

The thrashing underwater whirlwind tossing me down

Suffocating light, I saw nothing but the end to it all,

As I looked below me, I found a massive shadow 

That appeared as if from the shallow eternal dark, 

This shadow was monstrously big, stretched up towards me

But still, a figure of no distinct character, 

It seemed to have no end, going past the ocean floor

As it nestled me in it’s unlikely arms, to carry me out,

It leaned toward me, and passed me life in a kiss,

The storm settled, as the sun beamed down shining 

Light on an angel, no Devil or monster to fear,

She saved me from the Devil, as I found myself 

Reaching up for my boat, from waters I called home, 

I searched for her, days that melted into night, endlessly, 

So what better way to keep searching, then to die

In the waters that she found me, falling into the story

That has spooked her out of my life, I die to find her,

You’ll only live with a thread, of what you truly desire,

Although you’ll notice it, when it has crashed out

Of existence, pouring out for it, but it’s too late,

It won’t get easier, only more excruciating as you live on,

Searching, for even the slight resemblance, coming up empty.”

The Lost Reflection

I tied myself, to the back of the trigger, 

Wavering on the tip of the needle, trying

My hardest, not to collapse into the missing 

Mirror, the image hiding behind the corner,

Frozen in silence within the red, staring

At what used to encompass a serenity of sight, 

Its brilliance, muffled by an overshadow

Cast by this now open cavern, leading down

Into the further, until what was above, 

Now births into the below, struggling in limits 

Of Sanity before it crumbles, toppling over me,

The pronounced psychosis dominating over 

A hushed breeze from the serene, of a passing

Butterfly, crushed under the weight

Of the tempered hammer, staining the soft lull,

Ravenous rage, blurring and diluting my vision

In front of the overseeing full moon I transform

Beyond the recognizable, and howl back

At the mocking night, who I trust no more,

Words that I can’t take back now, 

I can’t bare to look at my own reflection.

Master of Monsters 

The boy places himself in front of the portal

With a small burlap sack, containing stolen scraps 

Of dwelling fear, held locked past sight of clothes 

Scurriedly hung amongst forgotten toys, 

Is a prison for those, no one else would dare

Capture, for they lay awaiting the sting of his voice

While holding a piece of them, pressing into his palm

Repeating  their name, to come forward from darkness,

A slave to his calling, obliterating sense and sensibility 

As these beasts must obey beyond their engravings,

A vigil for their once most sacred possession, their custom,

With a shrapnel of hoof, he swallows the name, 

Ekimmu! Softly said to himself in huddled light 

But it’s an eruption within the beasts torn apart mind, 

Its eyes became a pale vacancy, as it was triggered

By the distant call from the boy, sitting there still

Speaking now, directly to this overshadowing Beast,

Expressing desire for revenge to be taken upon another,

A broken down, once innocent boy, ordering monsters

To bring forth a fear, dormant in us all until awoken

By the terror that only these creatures can evoke, 

A shadow, cast overhead, perched on the shoulders

Of the fearful, stalked by possibility of return,

For fear, is presented in the absence of cognition,

Yet, the boy frozen in trance holds this weapon 

To use against those inside the gathered crowd,

A band of human monsters, the vultures of the playground, 

Taunt the boy, as his heart thumps through his own halls

Growing louder with every squawk thrown 

At the nervous boy, shaking from the overcast,

Hanging like a noose, with nowhere else to disappear to,

He keeps getting beaten, into himself, shrinking 

To the absorbing ground, his bones picked dry

By the carnivorous hellions, at ease with their sin, 

Drugging through the shame in his fresh bruises

He carefully enters his home, to not wake the snoring giant,

Finally clicks the door locked, he’s safe now,

No one can harm him, or trip him into a never ending fall,

He can be amongst himself, without any fear, until

The night takes over the room, and no light can intrude,

Shadows dance along the walls of his room, as he covers

Under his blanket, hiding from fear peeking in,

The closet door knocks, once, twice, louder and louder

Impatiently waiting for the boy to pry open past fright,

The knocking envelopes the boy and runs to the door

Flings it open to unveil, no one, darkness amongst

His own inanimate possessions, slightly wavering, 

Entranced in confusion, not noticing the rising shadow

Towering over him, reaching out to awaken him,

As a feathered touch, spins the boy to see before him

A ferocious monster, that seems to be smiling at him, 

Still, fear burst inside as the boy fell into the closet 

Fumbling for the doorknob, which the beast firmly held,

A single finger against pursed lips, trying to ease him,

As the creature speaks,

“Hello young one, my name is Ekimmu,

I come from beyond your portal

Where I roam with other like me,

We are Fear, protectors of scares this world,

You, my young boy, have too much fear,

And have been voted to receive a guardian.”

The creature takes out a burlap sack, and picks

A piece representing his chosen guardian, 

A fragment of a sharp tooth, 

“Here, a totem of fear to call your guardian

That will ward off your swarming dread,

All you need to do, is hold the totem 

And whisper his name, Rangboon.”

The boy holds the totem, studying the shape

And then finds the burlap sack, being placed 

Back into Ekimmu’s low hanging pocket,

The boy speaks,

“I need more than one guardian,

I have numerous enemies that attack me

Who deserve to be scared away.”

“But young one, this guardian is to protect 

By scaring those who bully the fearfilled ones,

Like you, full of fear and no haven,

Your guardian will only scare enough,

We monsters do not over scare, we regulate

Fear forced into this world, silent guardians

Until we need to be seen, to scare terror,

You will find your ease now, 

Trust your guardian.”

Ekimmu hugs the boy, and vanishes into the closet,

The boy sits in front of the portal, with the stolen sack,

Pick pocketed from the unsuspecting beast,

He calls Ekimmu back, along with his guardian Rangboon,

With the possession of the burlap sack, the boy has control 

Over all the monsters, forcing more out from hiding,

To follow, to steal restful breath from those unknown

In the realm of fear, dragged down into their own suffering, 

Four monsters in four different rooms, perched above

Four different beds, with eyes piercing red 

Each monster’s vision becomes the boy’s, 

Watching the fear overcome, the vultures become prey,

As the boy becomes the master of monsters, of Fear.

Spectacle 

They take their seats, waiting for the curtain 

To be pulled apart, to display their emptiness, 

Fixated, on the footsteps coming towards them

Occupying every hollow vacancy of the theater 

As the hum of anticipation follows, growing,

Congesting every row, eager for the blind to see

What they’ve packed into for, the spectacle, 

They’ve all heard from others, how marvelous 

Their experience was, a must see sensation,

They crowed over it, to again be the audience, 

In the midst of the slow decline of light, 

Fighting back their excitement, the stage

Starts to bear the standing spectacle, an error 

Of life, forced out into desolation, humiliated 

Night after night, for the brimming playhouse, 

The erect mush of torn rags and dirt smudges

Captivates, as a roar of laughter from the over 

Privileged ones that waste the high tide

Picking apart the staged impoverished fool, 

But who really sits within the puppet box,

Obedient to a hidden beggar, a crook of crooks, 

Toppling the towers from which they gawk 

At the overwhelmed spectacle, deceiving them,

Crippling their cannibalistic nature, lighting

The still spectacle, showing off it’s destitute 

To the roaring crowd, burying themselves in sin

Night after night, making the show a gratification 

That has astounded the upper streets, in turn

Making the poor spectacle, the biggest success. 

Battle Inside

Deep in the seclusion of this forest, lives a boy

And his demon wolf, defending what bonded them

In the inception of light under the lavish canopy

That shields the boy from the harmful spirited,

Until recently, when they have invaded the forest, 

Distorting the peace kept by the spread fable 

Of the haunting by this boy and his demon wolf,

As individual torches, the spirited, illuminates 

The forgotten darkness, cascading forth 

An avalanche of unwanted attention from the outside,

As these innocent looking spirits and their carnivorous

Intentions to breach light in through the eternal eclipse

That has been fought to stay intact by the branches

The boy and his demon wolf sleep under, 

But what spirit stays to itself, that dares not 

Tip the balance to the outside of insanity’s gates, 

So they clash beneath the melting fortress,

Disintegrating stem of suppressed serenity

With every strike upon the boy and his demon wolf, 

More invaders join the thundering collision 

Drying out every river slithering over every conformed 

Foundation stone of this dying hideout, running 

Away deeper into the black forest, enchanted 

By a need to forget, dream and imagine 

That the vivid reality doesn’t exist. 

©DorianPoe2016

Nightmare III

My latest post in my nightmare series where reality is bent and horror is limitless. A little more obscure than my other posts. Enjoy! 

I try to spit out what I’ve already swallowed, 

The lingering taste shrinks my tongue

And chokes my gasping regurgitation,

A virus, invading my castle and breaking stone 

To bring me to my knees, as darkness

Hovers over my feeble position, a spider

Approaches casually, surveying my horror, 

It speaks, not to further my horrid torment

But to give warning of those words I spewed, 

It expressed the terror it felt from the echo

Coursing through it’s vast tangeled web 

That I find myself caught in, a strangled prey

Hunted by the ghost I spoke of, reaching for me

In the dwelling light, abandoned by the spider

As I’m the captive of what I said, kept high

In the inverted tower weakened by the slither 

Of my expression, I wear shackles now

Holding me in the center of encapsulation, 

As all around me, looms above my perception

And the web has sunken in, taking me down 

Into the deepening pit, surrounded in torment

In which I hold myself, yelling at me collapsed, 

The spaces in the web fill in with onlookers

That pressure me down into the fathomless 

Making me hear what I said high pitched

Crippling me as all I can do to get away

Is run deeper into the void, looking forward 

Away from the collision of sound and mind, 

Escape being just outside of my grasp

With those words repeating in the tomb

That stretches on into an illusion of end, 

Never feeling the relief of the weight 

Upon my chest in the drowning pit slide off,

It weighs heavier, soaking every passing second

Until I, cease to be able to hold my tongue.

Spellbound 

Her lips, sealed by the witch’s thread and needle, 

Locking in what urges to scream from the insanity

Overflowing the cusp of her heart, drowning

In the cryptic silence, overly aware of the ripples

Surrounding her, inching it’s grasp closer, 

She shivers in the lasting echo of a fictitious howl

To doubt the cool wind that wants to carry her through,  

Disturbed by the offing that incarcerates her

In her very own mind, as she scurries to the corner

Hoping it’s tall curvy stature will cloak her,

Keeping paranoia as the pillow where she rests

While hiding from any light that shows its warmth, 

She slowly reaches out, slightly dipping the tip of her nail 

Into embrace, but quickly shrinks back into the collected 

Darkness, feeling comforted by the crawling fog,
Every serpent has found and taken from her garden

Closing her gates eternally, and banishing the luminous,

What can break the spell, that perches upon the cloud? 

What chance is there for the caged voice, to sing again?

Living the rest of her life, fearful of the word Love. 

©DorianPoe2016

Returning

They’ve returned, after the annihilation 

To find their home, beyond recognition 

From the burning winds, sinking all they knew

Into the deserted light, reflecting in their suits

Without penetrating their conceived safety, 

Surveying all that decayed beneath their feet

They hear withered screams floating off 

In with the rest of the wondering debris, 

The land lies barren, empty of what once was, 

Returned in pursuit for all that they’ve lost

Discovering their possessions belong now 

To this alien world, infused with its desolation, 

Buried in disaster, gore in rubles of memory, 

All that they can recall is the blast, aftermath 

Is all that remains, and whirlwinds beside them

Showing distance inbetween the rolling storms,

A vast forgotten scape that they must uncover

To find any shred, of what they left behind,

They move past the shrieking cover, probing 

Further into the erosion, 

Further out from their way back, 

Crunching other relinquished items of past 

Under their steps, stumbling upon a block 

Compressed, of ancient times and possessions, 

Sitting beside a heated watery grave, occupied 

By one, preserved by the past breaking off

From the boulder and dripping in, 

They approached the pool, staring 

At the floating coarpse swimming on its belly, 

One of them started toward the shallow pit

Reaching out, finger tips barely grazing 

The slightly decomposed arm, yet able to hook

And reel it in for inspection, and found himself,

His black eyes staring into the empty oculus

Of the known drifter, shuddering his spine,

“Is the face gone beyond recognition? ”

Says the other, walking to rippling puddle, 

“No, it is mine, clearly.” while capturing 

His own snapshot, “now we look for yours.”

He draws out a blaze, and flicks it,

Disintegrating the very last, of his own remains, 

They walk onwards, combing the not so distant earth,

Ensuring, no other could depict existence. 

©DorianPoe2016

Taken by Sight

On the dock, staring off into the never-ending,

A vacuous vista that is always in control,

Although clueless, as to what dwells past 

The stretch of any eye,  I’m struck with fear

Of what approaches, the daunting unknown,

Lay with me, she begs, as my panic is constant

And ever grasping onto the fled concentration, 

A tall tale, spread down ear to ear, giving birth

To paranoia, latched onto my erratic map

Riddled with visions concocted outside

The falling gates of insanity, for I wandered

Too far to find what was creeping over

The horizon, in a shadow upon the distant light

Where it perched, for years waiting to crash

Every stable thought, 

Every stable beat beneath her chest

That was echoed into my eardrum, distracted, 

And stolen out from my slumbering awareness,

No one has captured sight of this fabled myth

Trapped in imagination, projected

Onto the deep wavering chaos, slamming 

Against where I stand, held captive by sight

Of a cursed pirate ship, with torn hollow sales, 

That, among many other totems, I envisioned 

To loosen the grip around my throat 

From this fixation, of a story that has haunted 

My every  breath, about the devil’s advocate, 

But how can something nobody has seen

Cripple me, grab tightly around my occulus 

Sealing out all that I have turned away from, 

For I damned myself, waiting for the end. 
 

While the Apocalypse Comes

The static came in, as they huddled
Around each other, and for once, the world
Felt hollow, and time had lost its hold on them,
While it all bleeds out, and simultaneously, Everything seemed to turn stone,
Medusa’s stare being this eclipse
The world is entranced by, except
For the two that hid themselves
Inside each others unstable island,
Bracing the edge, as the deafening boom Eviscerates every crumbled rock,
They purge every last drop of themselves
Into what could sleep undisturbed
In the spider’s web, while the wave reaches
Out for them, to swallow their world
Designed to fall with the rest, they hold on
Fighting off what can’t be ignored, just to store
Every freckle she has, especially
When she smiled at him, before it faded,
The static became louder,
The still of them torn apart from its keep,
The eclipse enveloped every breath,
Every beetle that made marks here,
All that lasted was the wasteland, void
Of any bloom, but the drop dripped
From the web, soaking the dry earth.