The Night Fell On Day Time.

We viewed our lives as an instrument
Without actually having it
We wrote about our happy lives
Except me, no not this time

As my guitar leans upon a broken window
Wet and discoloured music;
Lost for all I know
Its strings no longer able to play;
Music never came out anyway

Twisted, swirled, and coiled up
The strings are caught in random stuff
All broken, cut, and out of tune
The right description for this lune

The neck is cracked almost in half
Because it was torn in going two paths;
Rock and country aren't the same
When you love one the other is lame

Silently taking over
Wishing to change everything
Fooling the fools
Humming the silent wish
Outsiders looking in
Touching the beauty
Breaking the silence

It's dusty and rusty and beyond repair
not even good enough to use for spares
So against the broken window it will lay
And then the people will throw it away.
And my night shall fall during the day.

Shadows & Sounds.

As I listen to the sounds from down the hall
I become paralysed by dread and fear
And I watch the shadows shift on the wall

Hearing objects crash and then fall
I know that something sinister is here
As I listen to the sounds from down the hall

I hide under the blankets, and curl into a ball
Leaving an opening from which I can peer
And I watch the shadows shift on the wall

The lines are dead, no emergency call
I sense a presence is drawing near
As I listen to the sounds from down the hall

A particular sound, is it a slither or a crawl?
And in the doorway a shape begins to appear
And I watch the shadows shift on the wall

I realize there is nothing I can do at all
this fateful knowledge fills my eyes with tears
As I listen to the sounds from down the hall
And I watch the shadows shift on the wall

E-Smiles;

A Villanelle. (Also to be contd)
Please, all comments, suggestions & honest criticism are humbly welcome .

The Life & Times Of a Piece of Paper.

He took crayon to paper,

Such bright coloured paper

And pinked it with glitter and glue.

The words made no sense.

But in their expense,

He poured out his mind of un-filtered hue.

And he couldn't reach the counter;

Where the telephone rang

And he said hello to whoever was there.

And mommy wiped the stains off his face, even though she knew they’d come back

And daddy tucked him into bed and kissed him on the forehead

And story time put him to sleep

And he made dreams



He took pencil to paper,

Such widened, lined paper

And practised his a-b’s and 2-3’s.

He coloured off the lines

Of smudges and designs

But they were not very pleased.

And he could swipe through the counter

Where he’d grab his paper bag

And run off somewhere

And mommy kissed him goodbye, but he wiped off the lipstick

And daddy was hard at work; at least that was what she told him

And he threw a tantrum when daddy couldn’t read a story

And mommy tried to.



He took pen to paper,

Such plain, blue-lined paper

And wrote of what he was told to.

The words were generic.

Thoughts turned numeric;

- But he got an A - who cares what he wanted to do?

And he ran by the counter

To grab the keys and some cash

And left for somewhere - he can’t remember

And that woman screamed for him, without avail

And that man wasn’t there - he was never there

And he fell asleep at his friend’s couch - at someone's couch

And he was out



He took dust to paper

Such tattered, torn paper,

And laced it with powder and spit.

A pathetic, flicked ember

In the cold of December;

Whispering to nothing, "one last hit".

And he couldn't reach the counter

Where the beeping dial tone;

Came on after he typed one 9 and one 1.

And the woman was long gone, not caring

And the man was down deep

And he fell to pieces, but never resting

And he was out… cold



And the paper burned

And the fire ate

And the neighbours screamed

And the tires screeched

And the water drenched

And the memories singed

And the body cold; Was held dear by the woman

And the boy saw his daddy

And his mommy soon came



And so he took pencil to paper

Such faded, frail paper

And wrote of what he had felt

Just before the smudges in the beeping car pulled him back

From somewhere - he can't remember

And his mother cried

And his father died

And he was in bed

And fell asleep one last time…

With a crumpled piece of paper by his bedside.

I Saw a Man That Wasn't There.

He's right behind me,
lurking like a snake;
I can see him moving.

Memories swim through me like
parasites ready to feed.
I remember what was stolen from me;
is that you I see? Are you my thief?

My stomach drops,
heat rushes through my skin;
pores produce a cold sweat.
Hyper ventilation.

I'm frozen.
He's watching me,
touching me with his deranged mind.
His hands painted with putrid sin.

I turn around-
nobody's there.
Have I finally begun to lose my mind?
Insanity sets in;
It suits me well.


••This poem is the second part of my series on "The Fear of darkness " . Please, all your honest comments, criticism, & observations are paramount to E-smiles.• •

When The Autumn Moon Is Bright.

I am not alone
I can feel it in my bones
The shifting darkness
Fear; more then I can express
I cannot see, think or hear
All I can feel is fear

Darker than the endless night
Darkness around me like airborne blight
Consumed by engorging shadows
At the mercy of the dark hallows
Ominous aura throughout the halls
Dark around me; like unholy falls

Breathing irregular and fast
Senses gone but fear outlasts
Alone, afraid
Being shrouded by black shade
Obfuscation of all surroundings
It can scent my fear

The 'it' I speak of is the creature with me
Watching my uncontrollable fear with glee
It prowls behind me, breathing down my neck
I turn around, but cannot see even a speck
But wait-I can see something glowing,
Glowing eyes, shifting and growing

Gazing into my fearful eyes
The fear seems to incise
The eyes continue to grow,
Yellow footprints in black snow
I can no longer breath, I fall down, clawing my throat
I can feel a gash, engraved into the cartilage of my throat.


*This poem obviously has to do with someone who has phobia for darkness,I tried to imagine how someone who suffers such phobia ,feels at night. And I hope I potrayed it well enough.
It has another part, "I Saw a Man That Wasn't There" which also takes us through the character,hallucinating in the dark. I hope you enjoy*
Please, All your honest Comments, Criticism , Observations are paramount to E-Smiles

Your Silly Little Fool.

Keep looking at me like there's nothing more to see,
Just stare when I make myself look like a fool,
Laugh at my failures,
Smirk at the smallest of my attempts,
I try to keep the happiness,
I try to keep my pride,
But you're always taking that,
Now I am a fraud,
My sanity is waning,
My self respect is gone,
All of it to make you see,
There's more to me that I used to go and hide,
You see me as a failure,
Although you tell me otherwise,
You say I'm perfect and that there's no better person,
I crave your attention but the more I get the more I die inside,
Am a toy in which you can throw around,
Am I not allowed to have a happy ending,
Slowly dying,
Crying for myself,
Weak and unstable and people wonder why,
It's because I changed and became your silly fool,
My heart is slowly breaking,
Twisiting to try to fit in your desire,
I've never been good enough to hold a good thing down,
Now I live in constant fear of how I'll live this down,
But for now I am just your silly little fool.

The Night Belongs To The Poets & Madmen.

We Dream of Living

As we sleep, the world moves forward.
We beg for it to take us back.

The ebony skies once danced with lightning,
reflections of beauty only nature's eyes behold.

As we sleep, we dream of living,
we dream of having something more.
Regretting things left unfinished
and of things we have left unsaid.

We wonder, if it would be better
to remain broken under this
cold, cold earthly tomb that holds us.

We dream of skies that shine brighter
and a world with far less to fear.

As we sleep, we dream of something...
we dream of our heavens, or hells.
Questioning if this is a lie
and wondering how long we dreamt.

We realize, only too soon
that we can only dream of life
and death consumes our empty thoughts.

Calmness as I traverse these stairs
Darkness ahead, but I don’t care
Ghosts welcoming me home
I slip into bed, and I’m alone


We dream, and desire, and fail.
Six feet holds us back like steel chains.