Ghost Legend Poems

Our land has become Death's brothel—
Collection of soft hands and hardened muzzles.
Lives canned to display strength or gain muscle,
Splattering remains in joyous, endless tussles.
...

She's quite unique:
Always heard, but never seen.
They don't appreciate her beauty—
Particular in the features they seek.
...

I am lost in the memory
Between what was, what could be,
And what is.
A situation impossible to fix:
...

I used to speak with an apple tree—
She was ready to please.
It was time for her fruits to be
Eaten in Thanksgiving.
...

You won't receive anything from me,
So stare—I don't care.
Your visions are incomplete.
Go ahead and gossip down hallway stairs.
...

I had a dream I slept in seams,
And my life was given away.
Strangest part was how I beamed,
Until noticing how far I'd strayed.
...

The Heart knows not of love,
But of the blood within its pumps.
No one quite knows love at blunt—
Only the coveted Brain does.
...

We're numb to those scorned homes
Within this dome that condones
Their destruction.
They're strung at the brink of forlorn zones;
...

Chase!
Chase it down
To the town
And back, if needed.
...

I find myself lost without place to hide.
The pine-winter frost fails to justify
Where I'm at,
What I've lacked,
...