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

Advertisements

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.

34003-fall-leaves-gif

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

371. Inertia

12482098813_d4d73db61f_b

Nightmares are only reverse dreams,

And ghosts are merely shadows.

Memories are just vivid streams,

Of self-perceptioned scenes.

Dreams are only reverse nightmares,

And shadows are merely ghosts.

Memories are the eyes which stare,

Deep down into our souls.

Phantoms haunt, and memories hurt;

And nightmares destroy dreams….

While time ticks on and on: inert,

To what we tell ourselves.

K. Aldaya, 9/25/16

Picture: Scene Capture from “Pretty Little Liars”; http://www.afterellen.com/tv/209853-pretty-little-liars-recap-4-19-shadow-play/3

343. Ghosts Are Some of My Best Friends

32323

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#

335. Random Thought #13

haunted path

You told me to say goodbye to yesterday.

You told me it’s just a ghost that haunts my way,

And today I saw it walk across my street;

And today it’s presence reminded me,

That we can’t run from where we’ve come,

Without growing, in the knowing, of what’s been done.

I see you…the ghost of yesterday…

K. Aldaya, ’05

Picture: Uploaded by BonnieBleuVa on Photobucket; http://s217.photobucket.com/user/BonnieBleuVa/media/My%20photos/1spookywoods12936969-lg.png.html

292. The Eternal Staircase

stock-footage-creepybasement

Down the stairs I wander.

In the dark of night I ponder.

What lives within its’ darkness.

My curiosity grows fonder,

Of the blackness which veils,

Revelations and lost tales;

As my legs shake they continue.

Step by step one voice prevails.

The air is cold and wet,

As the darkest black is met,

And the shivers up my spine:

They’re not mine…Oh, they’re not mine!

As the shivers overtake me,

I yell, “What have you done to me?”,

And a breath upon my ear replies,

“You know, but will not see.”

A scream echoes inside,

And I crawl to the rooms’ side,

As the dirt upon the floor,

Invades my every pore.

The dark reaches in me,

As I hide in my body.

Tears stream down an empty face.

Skin is stone, and I am free.

I close my eyes and there…

In the dark a form is there!

I see it. I can see!

Then a sudden light blinds me.

I awaken in my bed,

Still feeling that doom and dread.

I sit up to the side,

And in my hands I rest my head.

I lift my head and sigh,

And it turns into a cry.

Satans’ face breathes on mine,

And growls: “Sing me a lullaby!”,

“As I rape all that is mine”……..

–I walk the house today,

And every door and every way,

Leads down a dark staircase;

So down I step, and step again, as memories replay.

K. Aldaya, 3/26/15

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://ak.picdn.net/shutterstock/videos/4628543/preview/stock-footage-creepy-possessed-man-in-the-basement-attacks-camera.jpg

283. Mutistic Refrain

black-and-white-face-girls-hide-sad-Favim.com-340275_large

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/

276. Bloody Hands

alice hysteria

Red as sun-lit roses in the budding-Spring,

The pavement glistens with fresh blood,

And in my heart a piercing thorn bears the moments’ sting.

In my hand is an old-withered rag of white,

And in my soul a battlefield,

Plays a ghostly reenactment of the costly fight.

–Bloody is the rag which tries to hide a guilty soul,

Yet bloodier are the hands which clean without a rag that’s whole.

Red are these hands and the only I have known,….

Are these hands with fresh-blood dripping…

Dripping, and dripping guilt and pain; scrubbing all alone.

Blue as restless oceans crashing to the shore,

Are the tears which crash to the earth,

Never enough to clean the hands of an old child-whore.

–Red as sunlit roses in the budding-Spring,

The pavement glistens with fresh blood,

And in my heart a piercing thorn bears the moments’ sting.

K. Aldaya, 8/19/14

Picture: Inspired by American McGee’s Alice: Madness Returns; Artist Unknown; http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_maly49hnQp1qkuk8lo1_500.jpg

270. The Box

IMG_5151a

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

253. Why?

jase_dark_basement

I oft’ wonder why you chose me?

Why did you only choose to play,

Your sick sadist game with me?

Why was this my price to pay?

There were other easy targets;

Opportunities to relish.

Did you throw out many nets,

To catch the best trophy fish?

Oh, did you carefully choose me,

Because of who I am or was?

Was it personality?

Visual? Or just because?

Was it foul luck or destiny?

That I so young became your toy?

I born strange in some degree,

That in hurting gave more joy?

Was it fun finding a captive?

Destroying and haunting their dreams?

So every day they’d have to live,

Swimming in echoing-screams?

Did you know you would find a home,

Inside their head:  a black shadow?

Ghost of you to haunt and roam?

Bring terror and lasting woe?

In dreams you haunt. It’s hard to sleep.

I know you are not there, but still…

It’s so real, can’t help but weep,

When you go hunting to kill.

Oh, how many years of running,

From your ghost at midnights’ hour?

Far too many spent singing,

In my head while I cower.

It’s like you are a part of me,

That I cannot escape or kill.

Which hunts the others in me.

Trying to kill all at will.

Isn’t it enough yet to stop?

You can smile and be glad. You win!

Took my soul and with a chop,

I became your sin,…yes, grin!

Oh, should I hope forgiveness comes?

Is that too much to hope for now?

And take from hearts’ beating-drums,

Your relentless black shadow?

Creak, Thump.  Creak, Thump.

Creak, Thump, and a thud!

I can’t take it anymore….Go!

Go away! Leave my blood!!

Pour fast out of me and go!

I oft’ wonder why you chose me?

Why did you only chose to play,

Your sick sadist game with me?

Will my soul find peace someday?

Why was this my price to pay?

K. Aldaya, 10/11/13

Picture:  Artist Unknown; http://www.planetcalypsoforum.com/gallery/files/1/5/9/6/0/jase_dark_basement.jpg

230. Let Go of the Past

beach-bluex-clouds-girl-light-Favim.com-229854

It’s often said, “Let go of the past”,

So that you may live free;

But what a lie this statement is!

What distortion of truth!

Everyday I try to hide,

Or run, or disagree;

Yet everyday the past appears,

Pursues, and stands with me.

“Let go of the past”…Oh what a lie!

It won’t let go of me!!!

K. Aldaya, 06/18/02

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://favim.com/image/229854/

218. Faceless Foe

229308__shadow-man-hands-silhouette-drops-glass_t

Today I’d really like to know,

How does one face a faceless foe?

Where can I go?

What can I do?

When past is behind, and although,

I know it’s there (fleeing to-and-fro).

How can one view,

In the dark, black and blue?

K. Aldaya, 06/20/11

Picture:  Artist Unknown; http://images.forwallpaper.com/files/thumbs/list/22/229308__shadow-man-hands-silhouette-drops-glass_t.jpg

84. Taunting Ghosts

maxresdefault

Ghosts in the corner of your eyes,

Haunt and taunt you despite disguise.

You can’t hide what you have done,

Their tormenting has only just begun.

You can’t hide from them anywhere,

They can find you here, and find you there.

Ghostly visions of a tormented place,

Where you must ever await saving grace.

K. Aldaya, 10/10/04

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://i.ytimg.com/vi/lJarvZMi0gU/maxresdefault.jpg

58. Black Bird

It comes to me in dead of night when dark dreams flood the mind.

A vision of black in mine eye which sends a shiver through the bones;

A vision to horrify.

It dwells on hill cemetery.

Perched on an old oak tree,

Barely to move; never to fly,

Though screams in stinging undertones a loathsome lullaby.

her-graveyard-gothicolors-with-crows

Staring, though more so, glaring…

Haunting. Watching. Stunning the nerves.

No wish it has to fly,

Do anything more than gaze;

A gaze to damnify.

I know that it doth hate me with a passion few have known;

That’s why it resides on high piercing me with it’s cold stare.

In darkness I lie.

Oh cruel, black bird of night release your ghastly hold.

Oh why? Oh why?

Can’t thou fear anothers’ soul?

Forever night is nigh.

K. Aldaya, 4/25/04

Picture: “Her Graveyard” by Gothicolors Donna Snyder; http://fineartamerica.com/featured/her-graveyard-gothicolors-images.html