Phantom Poem by James Darwin Smith II

Eerie night
Misanthropy in the air
Wind preying on flesh
Hidden in fog
Dressed in disillusion
Blood curdling fantasies
A phantom's own vengeance
They will not forget who he is
No, not this time
Nor anytime


Upon this atmospheric scene
A phantasmagorical ascending
Created With
The blood splattering
From his own eyes
An evolution of dreaded accursing
Or is this all just a façade?



Can you hear the screams?
There, way over there
Yet, at times they seem so near
How is this possible?
Is this just all just bad dream?


Everything feels so real
The crisp air, razorblade afflictions
Leaves dead rotting in decay
Trees dying of their own seasonal disarray
This has to be an illusion, no
It is real, somehow


For the love of humanity
It is real
This cruel vile
Restless craze
Mired on a newfound dismal revolution


The phantom
Once nomadic, but now has a home
Laughing cruel wind all around
Conjuring up every last docile spirit
Making them restless
As they haunt on
Till everything
And anything becomes damned
On the hindsight of all remorse



So much negative energy
Tormenting everywhere and all around


Over the horizon
Flows a mass of black smoke
Coming in fast
Taking everyone away
Into the deepest depths
Endless suffering
Beyond anything
A human has ever suffered before


In this new dimension
Even the Devil has to pay a toll
Forced to suffer with the rest
As everything that was ever known
Has now been distorted
In a metaphysical hazing chaos
Accursed in an endless roam


Hope is lost
All feel helpless

Endless agony all around


Welcome to a realm
That even hell
Cries in the name of love


On an eerie night
The world spun of its axis
Changed for the worst
Forced to suffer on and on
By a phantom force
The anti-matter
The source of all things forlorn


The phantom's own vengeance
Morose of unknown


The painter of rancor
Creating art
On the brink of humanity
Those who never knew
They were the ones
Who opened this foreboding door



The phantom was created by humanity
For the phantom never existed
Till mankind needed a scapegoat
To make them feel better
For all the bad things they have done


There was really never a force that was unknown
Mankind was the phantom all along


So now who is the one to blame?
Humanity died
When they ignored their own souls


The genocide of life
A mass murdering metaphor
The monster they all feared
Within their own doubts
Crashing into suffrage
Forever and ever on


This humanity was the misanthropic force all along