Horror Author
I sat alone
At home on
My couch when
I heard it
Knock, knock, knock
No one stood
At the door
It meant something
I had forgotten
So I searched
Three knocks meant
A bad omen
Someone will die
You hear stories
But never think
All of it
Could be real
Six weeks later
My roommate’s mother
Passed away in
A hospital bed
From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.
In this digital age
There’s a new kind
Of censorship –
It always starts
With words –
The hashtag
A symbol of
A searchable category
Some hashtags are blocked
Others have a disclaimer
Hashtags are only words –
And they’re telling us
What words we can
Or cannot use –
I’m using the banned words
From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.
raped again
it never ends
molested again
too many friends
it hits within
the pain wont mend
i can’t defend
it happens again
why’s this happening
it isn’t stopping
all of them screaming
i can do nothing
i hear when i’m dreaming
all of the screaming
it keeps increasing
never ceasing
causing more tears
from childhood fears
the devil’s face appears
through eyes, oh so sincere
all it does is leer
at everything from the rear
while their future is unclear
his thoughts they will fear
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
James Pack 