Attack of the Zombie Squirrels
Walking through the forest, up ahead I hear a sound-
Acorns fall before me, dropping gently to the ground.
Seeing squirrels run wildly, "Oh, how cute," runs through my mind ...
Suddenly I'm ambushed; oh my God, I'm going blind!
Seven of the rodents crawl around my back and bite.
One went for my eyes, and now I'm running without sight.
Last thing in my vision- zombie squirrels with rabid maws.
Now they've over taken me; I'm wrapped up in their jaws!
Lying, dying, bleeding, they relentlessly ensue ...
Pain enraptures fur and rotted flesh and I am through.
Worry sinks within me as my kids are just behind.
Life relieves its duties and I lose my state of mind.
Death has come to hold me as its bitterness unfurls.
Never saw it coming: fed upon by zombie squirrels!
Paper
Blank it seems empty, safe, and ready.
Or is it taunting, laughing, mocking,
an expanse that yawns for using, filling, shocking?
"No! shake that feeling off, hold steady.
Paper cannot harm me, charm me, or alarm me.
My pen can disarm it, my words will reform it.
So why won't my Muse do the talking?"
The clock is now audibly ticking and tocking;
the white chasm before me still open and yawning.
Oh, God! Why is my inspiration not dawning?
"Release," I command, "the ideas you are blocking!"
I slap my head, filled with dread, afraid the spark is dead.
"It's no use", I said, "my Muse, she has fled,
so for her I must go a-stalking."
Resigned, I give up, inner beauty restrained,
but the paper still smirks with a vengeance.
"And what of you? What is your sentence?
Perhaps violence and fury and fire unchained?"
Without conceit, with justice to mete, I pick up the sheet.
"My words you cheat -- Ouch! A dastardly feat!"
A paper-cut I have sustained.
They Are Outside Your Window
Do not fear the darkness that wraps around your feet. Do not look for the demons in your closet or under your bed because, fret not, you will find nothing there. Do not stay awake under your sheets, paralyzed in fear due to the invisible hand or imaginary eyes. They are not there. Nothing. Nothing is there to harm you. Stay snug under your covers, for all the monsters you saw today are now outside. Do not worry, however, for lying there in your room as dread fills your mind with visions of the upcoming and rising sun that begins a new, terrible day will only weaken you. Rest now, love. The doors are locked. The windows are closed.
They are closed, aren't they?
Go. Run now. Close them quickly. Do not leave them open. Do not leave them unlocked. Do not decide that going one night without checking to see if they are still locked will not hurt. Because it will. Oh, it will hurt. Rest your sleepy head onto your little pillow and drift off to sleep without checking that window, I dare you. I dare you to close your eyes whilst something enters your room. Something that parts both the light and the darkness. Light is not your enemy and darkness was not your captor. They were your protectors. And you let them down.
So, yes. I dare you to rest, the feeling of pumping adrenaline absent from your veins. The sheer power and energy that could have given you a fighting chance. Yet, there you are. Asleep. Defenseless. You feel something tickle your leg, a feeling so light and gentle that you mistaken it for a loose thread on your blanket. You drowsily shift. Then, you feel it again. A minuscule pang of fear that an insect has crawled under your sheets. That small pang of fear, that mere hint of worry bolts you up. This is your first mistake. The creased hands feeling your soft legs freeze. The eyes in your closet watch you intently as you swing your feet onto your floor. A hot breath shakily pants onto the back of your ankles. You feel it. You feel it all. The hands, the breath, the emerging sweat, the thousands of eyes watching you shake. Yet you can't see them. But they can see you and the curtains that shiver in the midnight breeze.
Little White Rabbit.
Little white rabbit down your rabbit hole.
Give back the blood that we all know you stole.
Little white rabbit with your sharpened claws and pointed teeth.
We know it is you that is the real beast.
You snuck into their closet and came out at night.
You only wanted a nibble but you took a bite.
The blood came out as they screamed in agony.
You waited and watched but showed your true savagery.
You grew into a big hare beast and took all their blood.
You left them cold right were they stood.
Not all cute and fury now are we?This little white beast that we all called a bunny.
Ferocious Furries
They are born one night,
so tiny and cute
Can't open their eyes and
their hisses are mute
Momma ferocious,
protective and warm
Cleans and feeds each
one of her swarm
Eyes finally open,
teeth growing in
Tiny paws have
tiny razors within
They start to explore
the area around
They don't want to stay
on the boring ground
One day I walk in and think,
"Oh how cute!"
Then I get mobbed,
but I'm wearing boots
"Aww, they are climbing,
think I'm a tree!"
Until one of the demons
reaches my knee
"OUCH!! Get your claws
out of my flesh!"
The others inflict more
wounds that are fresh
Now I'm afraid to walk
into my room
Because of those cute little
furballs
of
doom.
At the platform
In the midst of darkness, I was called upon.
Stepping into a world where I saw no walls,
Look! The lightening and rainbow gods are stirring at me,
My voice and vocals squeezing themself inside my throat.
The turbulence of my mind was as that of a bad cloud,
Sweating from head to toe i could feel my heart in my hands.
Pocketing my eyes with great phobia to pray with my poems,
The clapping of hands and feet by unseen crowd made my prayers more touching.
What a shock! It was my audition which I sailed through with a victorious victory.
Fear.
During my regular morning walk,
As the cool fog swirls,
And the dusk retreats,
I see a small dog.
A puppy, I think.
I step up to it,
Look into its eyes,
Adoring.
I pick it up,
And,
It looks back at me.
Apologetic.
A cute little puppy,
It sees into my soul,
The tarnish there,
It's eyes betray fear,
And then,
I realize,
That what I was scared of this morning,
Was not the dog, but the mirror of it's eyes.
