Mummy – Poem

The mummy came into my dreams

With open arms awaiting my charms

With repaired soul and decayed body

He came to take me wholly.

 

There were ten bodies placed in a circle

In white bags their bodies were eternal

Millennia was presented

In a crypt most disorientated.

 

Image was found on Google.com

Clowns – Poem

Dreadful people

With fake smiles on their faces

Miserable souls

With the task of entertaining children.

 

Put a wig on, draw a smile

And there you have

A career as a clown

With the task of entertaining children.

 

Some have failed

By visiting children’s most sacred fears

Sneak up on scared adults

Violating that career path.

 

Photo found on google.com

Past – Poem

Sins of my heart

Thoughts in my head

Unfamiliar bodies in my hands

What was I supposed to hold on?

 

Sins were too irresistible

Thoughts were too compelling

Those bodies too attractive

I wasn’t seeing what I was holding.

 

Mistakes were made

Sins were forgiven

And thoughts were forgotten

What I was holding on was just a silhouette.

 

All that in the past

When there is no past

Today is past

And even tomorrow will be past.

Morals – Poem

Morals and right doings

Where is left and where is right

What is black and what is white

People like telling you

How to act, what to say and who to look at

What made you think you can do that?

Have you never done wrong or never had a bad thought?

Preach and teach

Not to kiss and tell

Not to run away

Or keep a secret

Moralised by priests and priestesses

The journey of life never ends

Not a step aside could be made

Neither a different road could be taken

What to eat and how to think

In whom we can believe

And to whom we should pray

Who gave you that task and said all you do is right?

The Knock of Death – Poem

What’s life?

We are born with so much pain simply to live.

We grow – healthy or ill.

We live – happy or sad.

We fall in love – to lose a part of us

Or to connect with another missing part.

 

And we die.

Death always made me sad.

Death always made me cry.

Death always confused me.

 

What is it, it wants?

Does it have any satisfaction?

Is it becoming more powerful with each body it takes?

Is every soul part of something?

Does the shadow go somewhere?

 

Where?

 

I want to follow it.

I cannot believe it.

I do not want to imagine it.

I do not want to live with the thought of death

Coming knocking on my door.

 

My body sore.

It hurts because the death took your body.

I lost the smell of you.

The death took you somewhere.

Is it now the time to talk about heaven and hell?

Emotional Trash – Three Line Tales

I am not a 24/7 feelings basket where you can share and humiliate; swear and flatter; remember and forget whenever you would like to do so. Forget that motel room, that night.

My services are not for you to play with, to reject and ask for whenever you need them to be or not to be. Forget the person who was always there for you, always available, always ready to commit.

That motel room is now occupied by other strangers. That night has come to an end. That person is all gone and she’s got no intentions of ever coming back just to serve your selfish soul.

Three Line Tales