395. All or Nothing

The me I would have been,

I can not recall.

I don’t know the me which existed,

Before life changed it all.

I don’t remember the good times,

When things weren’t dark and cold,

Or know what to tell my child self,

Whose body is growing old.

People say, “forget the past”,

But it makes us who we are,

And I can’t changed how it’s shaped me,

Just by wishing on a star.

I have all these broken parts,

Who are still stuck in one place,

While time moves on around them,

Yet they never age in pace.

They live just as ghosts,

Haunting their old home;

They’re separated, in one place,

Surrounded and yet alone.

I don’t know how to exorcise;

To banish parts of me.

If I ever did know how though,

Which one of them would I be?

The me I would have been,

I can not recall.

The me I was, is shattered,

I’m no longer one…I am all…

…or nothing.

K. Aldaya, 5/18/17

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374. Drifting Ghosts

I stand still too afraid to move forward,

For each step taken cuts deep like a sword.

Everything is a mem’ry I’d rather forget;

And each day is yet another spent in regret.

I know I cannot save myself, so I beg for the hand…

Which chokes me into silence yet again.

Which chokes me into silence again.

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I stand and glance across the sun-parched grass,

Spying on the baffling winds as they pass…

A leaf toward my feet..oh, just like the one which flew..

Along the path I used to walk on, and I knew…

It was your lonesome and bitter ghost, haunting me again;

And your presence drags me back there again.

You always drag me back there again.

I stand and wonder, and ponder too long,

On why the winds carry my ghosts along:

Forever drifting about in search when I flee.

I hear their voices echo and cry out to me.

I stand here in front of you with a penetrating smile.

No one cares the ghosts were there all the while.

Ah, my ghosts have been there all the while.

K. Aldaya, 11/2/16

Picture: http://www.lovethispic.com/image/34003/fall-leaves-gif

343. Ghosts Are Some of My Best Friends

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Ghosts are some of my best friends,

Though I’m not sure they want to be;

I certainly don’t care for their games,

Or their endless mockery.

They follow whispering in my ears:

“Restore my sanity!”

Ghosts are some of my best friends,

They’re the best at hide and seek.

No matter where I run and hide,

They always manage to silently sneak,

And scare me half to death…

Yep, winning’s always bleak.

Ghosts are some of my best friends,

Though I really wish they’d leave.

I listen to their moans and cries,

Hoping they will grant reprieve,

And scurry off to heaven or such…

Yet nope, they never really leave.

Ghosts are some of my best friends,

They make me want to die.

Would they disappear if I drown myself,

Or is that just a lie?

Are the ghosts still part of me,

Or will they never die?

Ghosts are some of my best friends,

Though I don’t want them to be.

I worry they have found new life,

In the echoes of eternity,

And fear at death they’ll hold me, screaming:

“Where’s our sanity!!”

K. Aldaya, 4/4/16

Picture: Originally posted on Tumblr; http://weheartit.com/entry/group/11322498#

283. Mutistic Refrain

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Whisper not a whisper,

Or someone is bound to hear;

And it echo and repeat itself,

For all the world to hear.

Whisper not a whisper,

For even the wind has ears;

And a tongue for blowing secrets,

And spreading fears.

Whisper not a whisper.

Hold it in and hold your breath.

Let tears o’erflow the flood-gates,

And hold back the ghosts of death.

Whisper not a whisper,

They can hear! They can hear!

From their haunted world they listen!

Hush…do not let them hear!

Whisper not a whisper,

As ghosts are for the dead,

And should not find a home to haunt,

In any others’ head.

Whisper not a whisper,

Lock the door and close the blinds.

Protect those who do not know,

What searching here finds.

Whisper not a whisper,

No one may enter here.

Save all from what’s unseen.

Save all from what’s to fear.

Whisper not a whisper,

Or someone is bound to pay.

The haunted world must be contained;

They will not have their way!

Whisper not a whisper,

And they won’t find anyone.

Stay inside and make a stand,

For the past can’t be undone.

So, whisper not a whisper,

Crouch and hum an eerie tune;

And wait and rock until it’s time,

To greet the lonely moon.

For if whispered-out a whisper,

Someone is bound to hear;

And it echo and repeat itself,

For all their ghosts to hear.

K. Aldaya, 12/28/14

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://favim.com/image/340275/

270. The Box

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There is a box.

It sits there on a shelf in the closet.

In that box,

There is a hole,

Leading to a heart beset by its’ soul.

There is a box,

Full of dusty, forgotten histories,

Faded time,

Which haunts and seeks,

As a wintery, cold breeze;

It ebbs and piques.

There is a box,

Which stores ages’ unfaceable decrees,

In the faces.

Pictures.  Photos.

Wailing: what-cannot-be’s no one else knows.

There is a box.

It sits there on a shelf in the closet.

In that box,

There lie remnants,

Of a splintered-hearts’ kismet,

In a glance.

Can you see it?

The box of ghosts tucked away on that shelf?

Whispering….

Psst…over here…

Lie truths you hide from yourself,

And you fear.

K. Aldaya, 5/18/14

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t1__dHwvHEI/TBhOxBIZY9I/AAAAAAAAJxs/7vv-0AzqF48/s400/IMG_5151a.jpg

173. Where Lie the Dead?

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Tell me, O’ where lie the dead?

Ah, they, they are everywhere.

Carried on wind, here and there,

Where’er their restless souls are led.

Tell me, O’ where lie the dead?

They sleep in the trees.

Float on moonlit seas.

The universe is their immortal bed,

Slumbering: memories in head,

Batting live-skin with eyelashes of dread.

K. Aldaya, 9/28/05

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://cdn.playbuzz.com/cdn/3939b4e1-f8dc-48db-a39c-501275b0f8d0/054e1831-5918-4b67-be14-d33e3f9f55e0.jpg

154. Shadows

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The shadows of the night…

Those raven travailing mysteries,

Of the deaths proven contrite,

To any acceptable causalities,

In the slaying of virgin light.

(Which loyally escape in fright!)

Granting each gravestone stern,

A momentary flit of indication,

In the tranquil earth all earn,

When time meets Gods’ discretion,

And bowing, falls in lost sojourn.

O’ shadow-phantoms which be,

Present thyself to querying minds…

The dead, floating on a moonlit sea,

Which count stars each sky finds,

Misunderstandably.

For ask me not how or why,

You must journey in midnights’ hush,

Tormenting dead and living nigh,

With what can be or not lush,

In Hell, on Earth, or heaven high.

Spoiled with bones and memories;

Creaks and moans in shadows wither,

Tears fall as leaves on cold fall trees,

Drowning the dead, unmoving hither.

Casts of portrayed black air,

Curse the dreaming dead,

By stomping on graves made there,

Waking and calling up from bed,

To glance with eyes, the ended care

(Visions they no longer share).

The blood-thirsty and ever tired,

Thrown with pulsed beats and motions,

Seek for what should be acquired,

In learning how to sail the oceans,

To find that sinkings are required.

Carved silhouettes ashen,

Somberly turn glances once wild,

To the tombs of times’ crash-in.

The cries of every once-held child,

In scars of graystone and sin.

O’ those black silent pictures,

Of what can soon or far-off be,

Shown in burnt coal blurs….

The internal imagery,

Of what ever-endures,

As eternal destiny.

K. Aldaya, 7/27/05

Picture:  “Reflection of Death” by Corvinerium on Deviant Art; http://corvinerium.deviantart.com/art/Reflection-Of-Death-355014597