455. Hidden

There are passions hidden inside,

In chests locked and dusty.

I wish I didn’t have to hide,

All the best parts of me.

It’s not as if I chose to leave,

Parts of my heart behind.

It’s not as if I didn’t grieve,

And fight back with my mind.

My passions were taken from me,

By life’s consequences.

I can’t fix what’s happened to me,

Or live in ‘past tense’s’.

If I could make a net to cast,

Into the sea of thought.

I’d ne’er have let them swim on past;

Yet, it is all for naught!

I can not fix my skittish brain.

There is no pill or cure;

Though I wish I were not insane,

‘Want’ won’t make it occur.

I opened up the chest last night,

In dreams, I came to life.

I sang and it was all alright,…

Then wept for my lost life.

No one will ever know the me,…

The me which could have been;

She had passions you’ll never see,

But some dreams can’t happen.

There are passions hidden inside,

In chests locked and dusty,

And if I may, I’d like to confide,

That sometimes I will take the key,

And open them up for a time.

K. Aldaya, 8/27/18

Picture: https://pixabay.com/en/key-open-castle-close-close-up-1422806/


423. Hollow


The floorboards creak…

Titter-totter. Titter-totter.

This place is home,

So what’s the matter?

What’s the matter?

Doors move and squeak…

Shriek-shriek. Shriek-shriek.

This place is home,

So why sneak?


The windows jolt.

Rattle-clatter. Rattle-clatter.

This place is home,

So where’s the chatter?

What’s the matter?

The stairs settle…

Whisper-whisper. Whisper-whisper.

No one is home,

But they were…

They were……………

K. Aldaya, 1/25/18

Picture: https://pixabay.com/en/dark-door-door-handle-light-1852985/

283. Mutistic Refrain


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

248. There’s a Monster in My Closet


There’s a monster in my closet,

I’ve never seen it there,

But deep inside,….I feel it….,

Feel it on the skin: naked; bare.

There’s a monster in my closet.

It murmurs without spare,

Of long ago,…of far away…,

Of a place no longer there.

There’s a monster in my closet,

Breathing.  Breathing.  Breathing,…

Oh, and panting for it’s fare.

“It’s not there….Yes, it’s not there!”

There’s a monster in my closet.

“Open the door”, you say?

I’ll do so, with strength,

I’ll do so right away.

Maybe I’ll see it…..Yes! See it there today!

There’s a monster in my closet,

I’ve never seen it there;

But today I’m going to face it,

And be done with this despair.

There’s a monster in my closet,

Of this I am aware;

And so I delve into it’s lair,

To see it’s face, to let it free,

To find another care.

There’s a monster in my closet.

The closet door creaks open……slowly…open,

Where is it?

Desperately I search.  Pull and tear…until,

There’s nothing left but remnants,

Of what once was there.

There’s a monster in my closet,

I’ve never seen it there,

But deep inside I feel it….

I feel it everywhere!

K. Aldaya, Date: ???

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; Originally on Aperture Journal.com; http://imgarcade.com/1/old-creepy-doors/

155. Lost Voice



No words to find,

Within the reasoning of the mind.

Searching, searching, far and wide,

For ways to speak the words confined.


The mouth sewn shut,

To seal the emulating smut.

Searching, searching; Chaos fused,

In pursuit of another cut.


Letters lie lost,

Piercing out a bloody-cost.

Searching, searching,…motion-faded…

Lips present a scarlet, glossed.

Shed no tear,

And mourn no wrong,

For these days continue long.

Redemptions’ voice echoes here,

Speaking out of every wrong.


Another day seen,

In an ever-frightening glean.

For unspoken words of sorrow.

Ravage the flesh unclean.

No words,

No words to find,

Within the furor of the mind.

Searching, searching, the un-heards,

For a voice of humans’-kind.

K. Aldaya, 8/2/05

Picture:  “Silenced” by JolsAriella on Deviant Art; http://jolsariella.deviantart.com/art/silenced-207287676

103. Silenced Dreams

Alone in the Dark 1

I often feel I should not speak,

Of dreams I oft’ have dreamt.

For bitter stories can they leak,

Stirring up much contempt,

And isn’t need irrelevant?

Though longing, long in silence,

For expressioned visions.

A contemplated final sense,

To reasons that dreams run,

With same old things, never done.

K. Aldaya, 11/14/04

Picture:  “Alone in the Dark”, Artist Unknown; http://dark.pozadia.org/wallpaper/Alone-in-the-Dark-1/

86. Men Live Best Blind

(c) National Trust, Calke Abbey; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Candle light is waning in the mid of night.

A gentleman refraining from the sleepers’ plight;

Heavy thoughts remaining.

Can the roving mind deeply reach for truth,

And in the darkness find some revelating proof,

That all men live best blind?

Secrets are truths hidden, and when shown they are spread,

Like the plagues from back then which soon become widespread;

All wishing that it hadn’t been.

Secrets linger in the dark or so I long have heard,

And that the truth will lurk ’til letting go the word,

To release the berserk.

But he knows as I do, this gentleman insomniac,

That a secrets residue keeps him wake in black,

But saves all those in view.

K. Aldaya, 10/17/04

Picture:  “An Old Man Writing a Book by Candlelight” by Godfried Schalcken (1663 – 1706); http://www.nationaltrustcollections.org.uk/object/290274

82. Unspeakable


I can’t even speak what I’m feeling,

And if I did I’d hurt others.

It’s best if I don’t say a thing,

To save the  life of all others.

I cannot leave, but I hurt to stay,

I just have to find me another way,

Not for tomorrow, but for this very day.

Today. Today.

I’d have to be selfish to speak out,

Since I’m the deserver of pain.

What can I do to spare all,

From seeing in what bed I’ve lain?

I cannot leave, but I hurt to stay,

I just have to find me another way,

Not for tomorrow, but for this very day.

Today. Today.

I need to somehow make two,

A me to stay and a me to go,

One to keep all others happy,

The other to seek the suns’ glow.

I cannot leave but I hurt to stay,

I just have to find me another way,

Not for tomorrow, but for this very day.

Today. Today.

I must keep fighting and hiding,

For the sake of all others near.

It’s what I always must bear,

I must silence now all of the fear.

(Cover, wipe, hide every tear!)

I cannot leave but I hurt to stay,

I just have to find me another way,

Not for tomorrow, but for this very day.

Today. Today.

K. Aldaya, 10/7/04

Picture:  “Gallows” by HORNEDQUAD on Deviant Art; http://hornedquad.deviantart.com/art/GALLOWS-341519359

80. Story of a Girl


I’ve often heard about a girl,

From a distant land.

In meager old town she lived,

In house aged and grand;

Which year by year did stand.

The girl from the highest window,

From the place she dwelt,

Day by day sat staring;

Beside the window knelt,

To see the world she felt.

From the window two floors up,

As dawn drew near,

She saw the town yawn and rise,

To greet the days’ premiere.

Ah, the days she did revere.

As the sun scaled the sky,

More peoples appeared.

Following their bearings,

However brilliant or weird;

Hour by hour they steered.

Laughter of various children,

Loudly could be heard,

Playing in a joyful fancy,

With which there is no word;

“Just happy truth”, sings bird.

All pass her house hurriedly,

None to see her form,

Quickly living out their days,

Through sun, wind, and storm,

To societies’ conform.

No notice made of a void,

An emptiness to fill,

With pair of reclusive eyes,

High on a window sill.

A soul, silent and still.

A girl watching intensely,

When the dusk befalls,

Doors closing for the night,

As the moons’-light calls

The silence enthralls.

Dark descends.  Stars glow.

Girl ponders the day.

Many people made it through,

Another spectacular day,

With not one glance her way.

Yet, every morn, at first light,

She wakes before all,

To see the sun shine again,

Upon this town so small.

Abandoned.  Not part of it.

Only sights to recall,

Of a life which she’s unfit,

Left in solemn withdrawal.

K. Aldaya, 9/29/04

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://s1.favim.com/orig/22/girl-sad-window-Favim.com-212680.jpg

49. The Monster

It is behind me,

I must keep running,

This thing is ever so cunning.

It chases afar,

I can’t stop to rest,

Hunting me, it’s at its’ best.

It never will stop, nor let me forget,

That I deserve it’s constant threat.

At times so near, that I can hear it,

Breathing and yearning for just one hit.

To take me down to its’ stormy lair,

A pit of utterly loathsome despair.

I must keep moving,

No stopping to hide,

It can sense where I reside.

My fear, it draws it, ever closer; closer.

Always there it will not deter.

Keep on running,

No! Don’t turn around!

Keep going ’til you lose its’ sound.

The sound that echoes,

That pains and taunts,

The minds of those it eternally haunts.

The darkness around,

It hinders my flight,

But doesn’t obstruct my pursuers’ sight.

I’m lost in darkness,

Confused and afraid….Run!..,

Through a world without any sun.

In the darkness it swiftly flies,

Glaring at me with its’ flaming eyes.

I often can hear the pounding in my ears,

Its’ heart beating, throbbing me to tears.

I must keep running!

Forever move faster!

To avoid a potential horrific disaster.

I must stay strong,

Keep moving ahead,

So I don’t end up worse than dead.

K. Aldaya, 3/21/04

Picture:  Artist Unknown; http://imgs.mi9.com/uploads/scary/4348/terror-eye_1024x768_76579.jpg

42. Little Girl

child hiding from dad

Hello little girl I once was,

Are you doing what a little girl does?

You aren’t like all those others,

You are a girl that hides under-covers.

Other little girls don’t do that,

Sneaking and tip-toeing ’round like a cat.

When the night-moon’s up on high,

You don’t sleep but lie and cry.

Little girls aren’t this bad,

They don’t keep their parents mad.

Little girl why is it, that you so often get a hit?

Why are you so often loud?

You know talking’s not allowed.

You can now hide in here,

In the closet hide from fear.

Little girl come out! Come out!

Can’t you hear your daddy shout.

You must leave your cave now,

And greet the thrash of bad’s endow.

Little girl I hate you so,

Why can’t you disappear and go?

You shouldn’t even breathe their air,

You don’t deserve one single hair.

Why are you so disgusting?

You’re such an awfully messed-up thing.

Little girl go hide again.

Stay there ’til I tell you when.

Close your secrets in with you,

Shut them ever in there too.

Little girl your secrets, they,

Must stay forever locked away.

Little girl you need not show,

How you’re badder than they know.

You, yourself, brought this on,

So you deserve what’s foregone.

Hello little girl I know well,

Keep your soul locked. Never tell!

secrets keep

K. Aldaya, 3/08/04

Picture 1:  Photographer Unknown; http://erebusteam.net/attachment.php?attachmentid=1240&d=1368782526

Picture 2:  Photographer Unknown; http://www.soc.ucsb.edu/sexinfo/sites/default/files/child.jpg

16. No Words


There are no words to speak,

What I feel inside at my peak.

There are no words to see,

What is going on inside of me.

There are no words to hear,

Of what is in my heart to fear.

There are no words to tell,

What I know so very well.

There are no words at all,

To express what’s beyond this wall.

K. Aldaya, 8/11/03

Picture:  Artist Unknown; http://www.vasquevuelas.mx/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/my-lips-are-sealed.jpg