poetry

Pleasantly Haunting

This place is full of ghosts.

They exist in the gloomy light of

Corpse-coloured candles

In those dark cottage walls,

Lingering with a ghoulish fondness.

I find myself drawn to remain also.

Perhaps these melancholy ruins offer

More than fear;

They invite somber reflections-

Reflections of the living as well as the dead-

And I find it pleasantly haunting

To explore the shadows

That hint at the brief spans of life

That may have walked these halls.

Although I worry our friends may have haunted too long;

Now they creak and moan at the slightest breathe

Across the stairs;

Wail and whine at the smallest strain.

You see,

These quiet graves are full of noise;

Full of grave suggestion

That perhaps we cannot die.

We’re fated to pace these cold floors forever-

Bound by footprints left in dust;

Tied to ballads about lives we can no longer mind

But the world decided to remember.

poetry

A Poem for Hire

My angel told me

Blood is thicker than water.

But veins drip like taps

And hearts can leak just like the pipes.

 

My angel caught me red handed.

Like a ghost and its shadow

He sits on my shoulder,

Carrying a certain kind of silence.

 

My angel told me

To let my hair down,

But I am too careless for a suicide note.

Dialogue · photography

Devil’s Advocate

SnapShot_16_

‘You think it’s real, then?’ She interrupted, not really listening to his train of thought. ‘Heaven?’

‘I take it you don’t.’

‘I want to… ‘ she mumbled.

‘What’s stopping you?’

‘The devilĀ told me not to.’

She looked down, ruby wet stains leaking across her sleeves, glinting in the moonlight, droplets pattering onto sacred ground like bloody rain.