POEM: Haunted
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POEM: Haunted

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A poem I wrote just tonight, this Halloween, though it's not exactly a "Halloween" poem. Still... I think it's appropriate. It's hard to explain. And despite how it may sound, I LOVE the Seacoast! It's just that after moving here, everything's gone sooo wrong. It was vital I get this up tonight.

I'm still working on and thinking about this one. Some of these lines have been percing for a while, most came into being tonight or at least earlier today.

If you like it, please consider a like, maybe a share, quite possibly a subscription. And though it may be after The Day when you see and hear this, Happy Halloween.

It is the time of year
when dead thoughts and dead plans
best laid in the grave show
up to show you you are
not forgotten. Even
when I tried I'd find I
couldn't escape this, hung
like blackness strung upon
a voided tree—like darkness
rammed down a funnel and
through the graying matter
of your brain. I hate the
darkness that makes me make
of the graying Seacoast
sky a projection screen
on which I show myself
four-color programming
of failure, impotence,
futility, stasis.

I hate this dark that has
gathered around me and
all over town—not really
the dark as when the sun
sinks down, but really that
that filters out the rays
that spring back up and soaks
up all the life-giving
radiation, leaving
incandescent nothing
that you find no hope of
dimming. But that happens
when we use hope like an
apotropaic thing,
as if it makes it as
if old curses seal back
again below the earth.

Now, after the gloom has
spread upon the sky like
mustard leaves on the trees
that fell off when they died,
old affairs come, demand
attention, seek tending
to, here play out a great
ceremony that with
the closing of the day
comes closing of one year,
and with that closing year,
and maybe the next year,
maybe the breaking of
the gloom, or maybe its
settling in to loom
for once or forever.

Hold close those you love.
Bless those whom you love—
but whether it's that fate
is manufactured for
you or by you, it's what
you must face up to, and
only then, for everything
that's been, you will come to
know the value of hate.
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