Ghost FM

The radio booms on speakers

it’s enough to wake the dead

zombies re attach their heads

ghosts clammer for attention.

What’s this dissenting dismal story

breaking from the ordinary

it must be the radio news.

This towns a ghost town and we are out of sight

dead ravens take flight

like they have been reanimated by Edgar Allen Poe

the word nevermore repeated.

Disco lights dance in the dusty ghostly radio station studio

the presenter moves his skeletal hand

and slides the controls to the peak setting.

his voice a long forgotten recording

playing jingles old songs and adverts

for a town where no one is around…

Humanity cure or disease

The nightmare begins

dreams tear apart at the seams

we given into dystopian

dysfunctional futures

where we nurture our own

tribal desires

our hope lies with Gaia

seeing everything as us

we bleed so do the trees

and everything

we are one organism

burning our dead

Just to stay ahead

or so we think

death is our reaping

it is creeping in

Where are the prophets

we traded for profits

where is justice

is it in us?

what about the animals

what about the insects

the trees

are we the cure or the disease?

Sandwich board lives

From skid row street
to death row and where they meet
you’ve exchanged your life
For a dollar sign and strife
crack alley coloured black
devil cries into your pipe
where shit travels
and you forget to wipe
where is the contrast?
Life for rent
Broken and bent
the colour, the shape of your heart
Before it was torn apart
Give me the child of hope
not the man who copes
with life emotions cut loose
the tyranny of time’s choice
you’ve lost your voice
chasing the dollar
forgetting to holler
about your dreams
while your desolation screams
sandwich board lives.

The title is “sandwich boards lives”because people in this sort of crisis have lost their voice and yet they wear despair and loneliness like a sandwich board you can see it in their face and how they present themselves.

Eyes of the eternal

Real tears shed
Eyes of the eternal
Can see the dead
not long gone
Just out of sight.

Like the bird that takes flight
into the white room
with white robes
I looked for you and I froze
I saw you with my undying eyes
you are not gone you can’t die

You live on in my mind
and in a different dimension
of the goddess’s mind.

I dream of death

This came from a prompt from one of my classmates in creative writing I rewrote it though at home.

I have a secret nobody knows
When I dream of someone who dies
It comes true
What they don’t know is my fathers called Death
He lets them take their final breath
In some cases its a relief
To leave this tortuous life
End pain wracked old age
But I don’t like people to leave early before their time
I offer a prayer for those people
But sometimes matter just breaks apart
Before its time
I have heart so does my Dad
He knows that death is just a transition
Maybe the body of the dying makes a decision
To come back and learn more as somebody else?
My fathers never given me an answer.
But I hold his secret and mine
and one day it’ll be my time.