The Last Remaining Ghost

The last remaining ghost

In a world bald and gone wrong,

For no one wants to stay,

And no one wants to play

With all the children snug in the night,

While their parents cap the evening

And peacefully drift toward the dark.

No one is judging them,

Everyone is judging them,

They can’t be themselves with the ghost in the room.

“Stop staring,”

“I heard a sound,”

Litter lines the cracks in the floors,

The wood creaks and squeals.

Snug in their beds they look to the north,

The winter breeze shreds their fleece.

But children, don’t be scared;

There is no monster in your closet,

There is only the chill of the night,

But it cannot be seen,

Not by them or by him.



Drop the anchor on the shore,

For we shall leave here nevermore;

It’s paradise that’s in store.

The trees bloom fruit tender and sweet,

As all the life we generally meet;

To awaken the seed that’s what’s in store,

For we shall leave here nevermore.



Obscenity twists the knife in the heart of the town,

Day by day they go around falsely amused.

Dubbing the houses and roadways to the stillness of sound,

Living a life of stone.

The day Nick Adams fell into the lake,

Fundamentality went with him.

The day Nick Adams was burned at the stake,

Obscenity lifted the veil.

Thunder struck the tip of the church’s cross,

Through mud and dirt and spirit.

Burning a piece of nothing-a-loss,

A crack in the stone was found.

Foaming crowds in the night lit scene,

Their spirits lifted and smiles cracked.

The harmony changed from silence to obscene,

The falsely amused no longer false.


The Eye is a’ Coming to Seize You Again

He crept the morning stairs,

Each creak weeps frightful sighs.

Afraid of gathering glairs,

With engraved hatred in both eyes.

A shiver crept down his spine,

To awake and douse in history.

The cries of innocents unknown,

A bleak truth pawn to misery.

His conscience sighs for a goal,

He sees the withering of the mass.

Another mode of stiff control,

No spirits grave for none shall pass.

A city of wine and gold now bust,

A land now barren, lost, and slain.

One man, one power, now who to trust,

As the eye is a’ coming to seize you again.

All trampled and torn his body molds,

Contorted as each of the worlds go.

Fewer are left the further it unfolds,

What shall be done my companion, my bro?

On this day he sees this worldly truth,

But hides the real from the guilt and the shame,

The dead in the world corrupting the youth,

With powerful hands our masters to blame.

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