Horror Author
Our lives are drained by the
Shtriga witch
Which has taken the souls
Of immigrant children
It’s taken the souls
Black, brown, and yellow
Of immigrant children
No screams or bellows
How Columbia
Palisades the WASPs
These drained soiled bodies
Unwashed
Unwashed
Previously Unpublished
wonderful memories sleep in my mind
the most valued possession i can find
material objects are meaningless
immortal is your great memory chest
as life continues on and fades away
all you have left are memorable days
how does one become immortal in time
leave a number of memories behind
to those who remember me when i die
all of you were the apple of my eye
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
tis merry and bright
all through the night
everyone sleeps without cares
dreams of happiness
none are restless
the dwelling is a calm lair
upon arrival
in such style
make for the dancing bear
he’s down the chimney
it’s all empty
except a fat man who stares
“Not again!”, he sighs
shame in his eyes
“You can’t be me again, Jer!
People think you’re dead,”
the fat man said,
“you can’t be seen anymore.
I understand man,
I am a fan,
but too many people get scared!
Jerry Garcia,
nice to see ya’!
Now catch a ride on a Reindeer!”
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
James Pack 