I came to the desert,
to find the ghosts here
were not mine.

The streets were pure,
the sand bleached clean.

Too soon I watched
the lighthouse crumble,
as I walked a street
strewn with red feathers.

Clockwork scorpions crawled
from the baking sands,
injecting their amber poison,
to kill me.

Ghosts walk the streets now,
ghosts I know, where once
they were strangers to me.

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Against the Grain

Asked once more to step forward into the heart of who I am,

I find myself in a place that goes against the grain.

Most would say to hold my words, to do the logical thing,

But I have no choice in this if I wish to remain human.

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Morning shroud
Cloaks the familiar
Makes mysterious the common
Streets transform into paths of ghostly apparitions
Monstrous forms materialize
Luminous eyes share
Through gloom

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Victims together

I saw marks on her legs,
knew I was not alone.
Too dull blades
birthing bright blood,
checkerboard scars
on dull pale flesh.
Moans, once cries,
now sanitized to hide
forced shame.

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Dark Dreams

Melanie Jan Bishop

look, look deep into your eyes
behind the color blue
______rimed with darkness
a nebula world, one few know
few care, few will ever see

in twilight, your eyes open
letting in the nights shadows
_______shadows that fill you
shadows that complete you
weaving webs of deceit and fear

beware the dimly lit paths
aglow around you, drawing, pulling
_______like spirit lights on the moors
we will suck you dry and snatch your soul
no second chance, no escape

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An Honest Haiku (flash)

It’s love I love; It’s
Lust I lust.
It’s not you; Not yet.

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Undead Poets Crossing

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