Posts Tagged ‘horror poetry’


“Boogeyman” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~


Last summer thoughts still chill my bones,
Some things are best just left alone.
Like when we buried John Simone,
A boy we preyed upon with stones.

We didn’t mean to make him fall,
Just scare him for a bit- that’s all.
Unlucky shot with rock quite small,
Struck Johnny’s head- that tree was tall.

We took our prank beyond what’s fun,
As John twitched once beneath cruel sun.
His lifeless eyes, aimed like a gun,
Condemned us all for what we’d done.

Quite desperate to save our skins,
We buried John, but not our sins,
And vowed to never speak again,
Of that dark day kept locked within.

For months we lived enslaved by fear,
And wondered if our crime would clear.
But no one found the grave that year-
Yet something from the dark drew near.

Was late one night I heard the knock
Upon my door at three o’clock.
An eerie voice began to mock,
“Come out, come out, I’ve brought your rock!”

~~~

“The Stoning of John Simone” Copyright © 2010 Scott Scherr. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~


“The Other Me” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~


We’ve made a reservation,
A vacation just for you.
The rooms are kept quite private,
To enhance your special moods.

The meds are recreational,
Provided free of charge.
We recommend you try them all,
To find your ‘shooting star’.

Dinner’s served at seven,
On the other side of time.
Don’t fret about an evening suit,
Your one-sleeve jacket’s fine.

The show tonight’s an improv,
Something from your younger days.
The stage has been sedated,
For the drama, we call, Rage.

Sit right back, enjoy the show,
We promote participation.
What was that? You’re not alone?
They’re just hallucinations.

Just listen to the pleasant voice,
Which hides inside your hide.
At times the show’s quite brutal,
And the actors seem quite dead.

The doctor will come shortly,
For your dose of ‘sweet forget’.
He’ll even help you tie your shoes,
And clean up all the mess.

We ask that you return all props,
You’ve borrowed from the kitchen.
The chef will need his butcher’s knife,
For tomorrow night’s creation.

We’re pleased we could accommodate,
And fan insanity’s spark.
The theater of your mind,
Demands an encore in the dark.

~~~

“Madhouse Theater” Copyright © 2010 Scott Scherr. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~


“The Angry Ones” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~


Tammy Sirl, that preacher’s girl, was up to no damn good.
Howard’s son, the reckless one, took her to Creed Woods.
Everybody knows you don’t go messin’ ‘round those parts.

Hadn’t been that long since Sally Strong was torn apart.
Aroused by preacher’s child, that foolish boy done lost his head.
Nothin’ could dissuade him gettin’ laid ‘cause Tammy said:
Got the balls to jump the wall and spend the night at Creeds?
If you do (that devil wooed) you’ll have your way with me.
Nine o’clock, the sun was shot, they took the old Creed drive.
Got real close to Sally’s ghost, then parked along the side.

Only then did fear kick in, as both recalled the tale.
Fourteen parts—And Sally’s heart—were scattered on the trail.

Justise Creed, the last lone Creed, had died to ways of Man.
Uncivilized, his savage side, took root and roamed the land.
Sally Strong had wandered long while hiking close to dusk.
Terrified, she moaned and cried, ‘till Justise fetched her up.
Incited by trespass, he slashed that girl from toe to head;
Sliced alive, right down to size, then rumors said he fed.
Everybody searched for Sally Strong a long, long time.

Creed was found, inflamed the town; they hung him from a vine.
Remembering such horrid things brought Howard’s son to pause.
Even Tammy Sirl, that whorish girl, gave up her cause.
Evenin’ swallowed up the path but not the wrath of Creed.
Danglin’ overhead with dread, they found him in his tree.

~~~

“The Hanging of Justise Creed” Copyright © 2010 Scott Scherr. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~

(Note: This is a story poem written in rhyming quatrains with the stanzas deliberately broken up to accommodate the secondary acrostic form.)


“The Flying Dutchman” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~


At dusk the tides deliver up the dead.
Appointed by the isle, I burn with blame.
One hundred forty holes I’ve dug and fed.
One hundred forty holes that curse my name.

The surf pulls sand away beneath my feet.
No mercy spared by sea for Man or grain.
She gloats before the shores of my defeat,
And taunts with crushing waves at my remains.

My mouth retains the taste of salt and death.
The sun has long since scorched my skin and sin.
Alone, but not alive, I mock each breath,
Retrieve my bloated corpse… and dig again.

Tomorrow, clock resets with number one.
My island hell won’t rest for what I’ve done.

~~~

“Survivor Damned” Copyright © 2010 Scott Scherr. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~


The multiplication of voices resounding,
Sanity’s drowning in background destroyed.
All words that once rescued from sirens surrounding,
Lost in dark frequencies, death by white noise.

I’m deaf to their footsteps now masked by tone madness,
Legions of audio demons proceed.
My senses betray me, I dance in the darkness,
Sound works in silence, infecting my dreams.

I wake in the false light, subliminal phantoms
Guide me like piper, completely deceived.
To do what they tell me, and think that I fathom
The reason my hands are now red, while you bleed.

My conscience now muted, as well as your screams,
Lost in the background, where I used to be.

~~~

“White Noise” Copyright © 2010 Scott Scherr. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~


It lingers just beyond the lie,
Distorted at the edge of eye.
Where reason fails to hush the dark,
A chill prevails, the fear is sparked.

“There’s nothing here,” such words are frail,
As goosebumps tell a different tale.
Imagination feeds the host,
Of eerie sounds that build a ghost.

And every corner hides a door,
Where shadows slide across the floor.
Footsteps creeping torment ears,
Suggestive horrors drawing near.

Then from the void a restless moan,
As panic screams, “You’re not alone!”
Betrayed by flesh now petrified,
Next day, all whisper, how you died.

~~~

“You’re Not Alone” Copyright © 2010 Scott Scherr. All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

~~~