Collection of Poetry by Guest Poet Candice James

Guest Poet Candice James

THE ROOM

Inside this sinister paradigm of doom

Surrounding me with unholy noises,

The walls vibrate with the dirge of the undead

And crack under the high pitched screech of rabid bats.

Eerie, ghostly vapours

Trickle in under the warped petrified doors

Of this floating room of secrets I’m locked in.

It’s one shade blacker than the darkest

Remnants of a sordid midnight

That still lives and breathes down my neck

With relentless abandon.

Over in the east corner of fear and fright

A butterball, mutated light snakes in,

Slithering, eel-like on murky chunks of phantom water.

Safety is being eaten up

By this gluttonous, monstrous imitation of light

Creak!  Thud!   The clunk of a stale wooden door,

Opening and closing.  Too close for comfort.

When it shuts, it shuts out the light.

When it opens, the nightmarish neon glow

Slides and writhes in nondescript patterns

Across the wet cement floor of my cell,

Almost touching my feet.

I edge backward, but each time it crawls even closer,

Savoring the feast at hand.

It edges forward seeking the sweet smell of fear I emit

Through my dank and dampened flesh.

 

I rattle my keys to keep it at bay

I am the prisoner and the guard

Answering only to my overwhelming guilt.

I am my own jailer. I am the warden

And I shall never commute my sentence.

I shall remain on the slippery tongue of doom

Locked safely inside my dangerous room.

 

TO THE BLACK OF NIGHT

To the black of night

I whisper soft melodies

That crack on the edge of a star

And break into a charade of stilettos

That pierce the sky with a feeling

Reminiscent of heartache unhealed.

 

Shining upon a crumbling castle

Of barb wire wishes,

Tangles in the strings of a distant dream,

a smoky essence at best,

Wisping into obscurity,

Becoming the vanquished,

The vanished

Fading into the voidless void.

 

A dark mahogany door creaks open.

The brass handles turn to burnished orange,

Then gold, turning, unlocking

The womb of time,

Birthing a darker net

To catch my whispers

And crack my heart open wide

To the black of night.

 

WOUNDED ELEGY

Candice James © 2011

 

Balancing on a jagged pinnacle,

Torn footprints,

Frail body,

Shadow smudged

Against a gun metal sky.

 

A wounded elegy,

In decaying prosody,

Grasping at the blunt needles of

A dissipating cloud

Too far.

 

Comes an angel’s lament:

Ghostly dark sonata;

Melting in peppered snow;

Exuding the aftermath

Of an icy kiss,

Vapid and vaporless;

Invisible to starlight.

 

Drifting aimlessly

On a forbidden wind,

Colorless, passionless,

A copper moon

Haloes the black.

Wrists shackled,

Heart stabbed,

By dried ink and blood

The shadow teeters

Stumbles,

Falls,

And finally,

Embraces the abyss.

 

CRUMBLING PRISON

Candice James | Copyright 2010

 

The skeletons I incarcerated so long ago,

In the cellular structures  of my soul,

Claw incessantly, with long bony fingers,

At this moment of truth and a memory that lingers

In the crumbling prison locked in my mind

Where time and tide start to unwind.

Creeping out through cracked crevice lines,

Quite unaware of buried land mines,

A ghost from the past whispers and calls

Through gaps in these cold gray concrete walls.

I can hear the distant rattle and clunk

Of bones clamouring from a rusted out trunk

Growing much louder as they draw near

My guarded large castle, my fortress of fear;

The large burned out  building I keep my dreams in.

Where there’s nowhere to end, nowhere to begin.

 

Each skeleton was part of a dream that died

A wish that ran away but couldn’t hide

These skeletons walk heavy through my days.

Late at night they still linger inside the haze.

Silver leaves falling from a tarnished tree;

The promise of golden days never to be;

These skeletons fight tooth and nail to be free,

But if I should lose them what would I be?

An empty skin shell with nothing inside?

They’ve been trying to escape on a wing and a prayer

But if I don’t cut them loose there going nowhere

But free them I must.  They won’t be denied

So I draw out my pistol and ready my sword

To sever, at last, the umbilical cord,

And force these skeletons to take their leave.

God is my witness.  Their blood’s on my sleeve.

 

The skeletons I incarcerated so long ago,

In the cellular structures  of my soul,

Have finally escaped like a thief in the night.

They’ve fashioned their bones into wings, taken flight;

Flying far, far away from the weak, frail and blind,

And the crumbling prison locked in my mind.

 

THE DEPTH OF HER FALL  (for Janet Kvammen)

© 2011 Candice James

 

White time cracked

Building to black

Raindrops unstacked

Clouds come untacked

From weakened sky

In secretive lie

The lure of the lonely

Touching one only

In gossamer nightgown

Without throne or crown

Becoming a satin doll

In the crest of her fall

Barely alive

But she will survive

 

Atmospheres, alters

Horses, thrown halters

Saddled up for the ride

Through eternal tide

Tears polished to shine.

Breath flavoured with wine

Sweet inebriation

Seeking expiation

This deep black chasm

Tick tocking spasm

Holds court every night

Squeezes the light

Into lost works of art

Painted for her dark heart

 

Torn dreams on parade

In dull masquerade

Winter wind of the soul

From unblessed hell hole

Chasing her to the ledge

On precarious edge

Now back to the wall

Soon she will recall

The depth of her fall.

 

Wraith Demons

A ghostly hawk perched high on boulder ledge,

With feathers proudly preened against blue sky,

His talons gripped a beating severed heart.

He stumbled losing balance at the edge.

Then flew this bird of prey to hunt my soul

And I to gather up my pistol whip.

This grisly demon, eyes as black as coal

Had not a beak but wore a human lip.

Decision broke the tumult in my mind.

I did not flee I chose to stand my ground.

Shunned cowardice was never of my kind.

My bullet found its mark with deaf’ning sound.

 

The hawk and severed heart from overhead

Fell bloodied at my feet.  Wraith demons dead,

 

Death’s Shadow

He’s always on guard, ever vigilant.

He watches edges of night closing in.

He searches shadows cold and indigent.

Unshackled in Pandora’s box of sin,

He hears the rattle of skeletal bones.

They clamour, and echo incessantly.

In atmosphere filled with horrific moans

They beg, claw, tooth and nail to be set free.

Inside this prison born of misplaced trust

Harsh deeds and sins too monstrous to deny.

The skin and bone of ghost crumbled to dust

With jangling keychain counting tears gone by.

 

His eyelids flutter shut.  Keys fall to floor.

Defying life, Death’s shadow locks the door.

 

Giggle Damned Moment

The blood licked sacrilege of dark torn night

Feasts on my sleeping demon much maligned.

Red blood and black lace resurrection’s plight,

A shady fingerprint where devils dined.

Now as this quicksand mire grabs at my feet,

I’m sucked down through the depths of dark despair.

A flame smacks at my soul; exceeding heat.

Fire’s holocaust, eyes fixed in hollow stare

As sanity’s paired with insanity.

They two step on disaster`s floor as one.

They wink at me and scream profanity.

They watch my life unravel, come undone.

 

In this backhanded giggle damned moment,

I`m wrapped in chains of eternal torment.