Its slow... SNAP! Something cruel approaches.
This undulating creature that makes her retch,
Its coming closer, beneath its skin: worms and roaches,
Saliva like tar, claws splintered and ready to etch
Your name on blistered floors in gruesome blood,
He'll leave you empty, insides pressed in mud.

Hear it now... that twisted groan.
These crooked corridors are not home.

The night is young,
With all the zombies gone,
Take me to the age of old hypnotic songs.
The wolves are dead,
And all the turtles fled,
Take me to the shadows of a cold river bed.
This blood has fought all the battles through,
The knife has stood on the cycles of truth,
For we don't know, for who do we stand,
For we are the strangers of this neurotic land.

Write a scary poem about Halloween?
Weirdest ode you've ever seen!!!
What is seen at Halloween?
Bloodsucking Salem zombies,
TV addict Abercrombies,
Spiders and maggots in their hair,
Crypts in the garbage tip over there,
Witches floating round my room
Fit right in here as they zoooooom............
Yes, my other car's a broom!!!!!!

It's any fool can shrink a head:
The art is making it also undead.

O.O

"Hypothetically,"  hypocrisy has become the new democracy.
Socrates once said "You must break free from society",
Admittedly, that is not a direct quote.

Woe, oh, no I do not believe in aligning my stars
with your sharp minded attitude that controls me from afar.
Hardships ahead suggest that you best let go of your
previously consumed ideals and feelings and repeal from
the concave society that begs us to encourage our propriety.

Sigh, it seems that this community of this city
is stuck in a trance and they do not wish to be disturbed.
Well I'm perturbed by that fact, yet I act like I understand
the zombie-like trance that has taken hold of all that are breathing,
Leaving only a few confounded by the monstrosity of this reaping.

Keep me here, away from the stagnant ailment that has
an arrant grip on the throats of the blokes that were
ignorant enough to believe that indiscretion.

True, it's become my obsession to call out all that is nonsensical.
It's apocalyptical! Their anonymity is frankly mystical.
Their words seem to be lathed with mechanical phrases and verbs,
again I'm perturbed and what's even worse, is I find myself intrigued by their complete lack of identity that I can't make sense of me.

See? It's a seductive prospect to attempt to project yourself into
that cult, but as a result all your visions of freedom will dither
and wither into nothingness.

Although, they're courteous enough to let you keep your vanity,
but the rest of you, all your thoughts of clean and lucid dreams, are
reamed from your mind, wound down to a soft and empty grind.

My, you really should ignite a morsel of self-respect to check out
of this direct fog that is hogging any last bit of intellect.
Dissect one thought from the other and then you'll wonder
how to crawl out of this ignorant hole that has
swallowed you down, consuming your soul.

Pull yourself away from their depreciating ways.
Reintroduce yourself to free will and thoughts
so you can be brought back to life and maybe even have
a deeply un-contrived and well-thought about thought.

Be wise, snap back into reality and let gravity do it's job.
Throb goes your heart.
Did you feel that? That puncture in your chest?
It's doing it's best to let you know that you're alive,
high with breath on your tongue and in your lungs,
Filled to the seams, light beams from your fingers.

Do not linger, here in this moment, rush to the surface
and escape the airless lies that are encrusting your soul.
Pull yourself up to the surface and allow yourself to be woken.

Broken you may be, but you can be renewed if you give yourself
permission to control your own admission.
So permise it and recommit to standing on your own two feet
and weep with joy at your eternal freedom.

This is where I leave you.
Alone with your lonesome self...
Relish in your new-found magnum opus,
let it give you focus to hone in on your blooming
and lucid, conscious brewing.

Keep it stewing.
Stirring to formalize your new ignition,
no longer is this a road to your perdition.
Ridden your thoughts, let your conformity rot
and let that *** stew all of your now, new
delectable thoughts.

Cuter than those
With the plague, or rabies,
   Or fungusy toes,
Or a bad case of scabies,
   Or one extra nose,
Are zombified babies.

O.O

There's a dead baby girl in my closet Should I tell her to leave? If she goes somewhere else She'll have nowhere to sleep.

Both her eyes are missing and her skin's the color green. She sings to me at night and I see her in my dreams.

Flesh rolls off her bones in decaying clumps. She has no feet so she crawls on stumps.

The undead surge endlessly.
Drained and muddied will.
Holding them back with everything left.
Delightful blood they've come to spill.

Barracading the doors - only surrounds.
Moans and groans dauntingly loud.
Sleepless nights hoping they don't breach.
The scariest thing is how they sound.

We thought they weren't real.
Just comic book stories.
But when they came knocking.
The first to go was four-eyes.

All the horror movies.
Won't leave you prepared.
To face to undead horde.
Brains aren't meant to be shared.