Horror Author
without tardiness, the measure is done
it is safe to say the battle is won
all villains and enemies will crumble
by My hand, all in My path will tumble
do not jest in ridicule unto Me
for it is I who will let your soul free
only true and just warriors may pass
justice and honor are why they will last
I am the battlefield; I am the blade
in the heat of war My image won’t fade
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
the Bells
They haunt me in my dreams
i hear Them in the streets
it makes me want to scream
scream like a child
whose eyes cannot shut
for fear that their throat
will surely be cut
these Bells
They drive me mad with Their wonderful delights
against Them i rage
i constantly fight
with effortless ease
They attack without warning
They infiltrate my brain
at least until morning
those Bells
all my life They’ve plagued my mind
They ring without fear
They don’t sense it’s Their time
it’s Their time to be finished
They are now forsaken
can i finish Them off
before i awaken
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
There’s an energy of hate
Pulsating through the world
And everyone blames someone else –
The truth is – they hate themselves –
They have no compassion because
They feel no self-compassion
They have no self-love –
You can’t love anyone
Until you love yourself
And hating someone does not
Give you the right to hurt them –
No one has the right to hurt anyone
So, stop hurting yourself and others
From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.
James Pack 