Imagine, if you will, being scared of...

Imagine, if you will, being scared of bed
Picture, if you can, being inside my head
As day turns to night, oh how I could weep
As I wonder, tonight, will I get any sleep?

Read a book! Drink hot milk! That’s what they say
But neither work to send me away
Oh imagine, if you care, being scared of bed
And give me strength in a week to come off the med.

Imagine if you will being scared of spiders
Their very shape inspires dread
The long moving legs
Their mysterious ability to seek me out
To make a web in the corner over my head in bed
Why do they make webs at face and eye level?
An irrational fear if you consider size comparison
Yet I’ve always had it
It’s imprinted on my genes

Imagine, if you will, being scared of John Lennon songs.
It isn’t hard to do.

Imagine if you will, being scared of the pill
you wake the next morning and find there’s a Jill
in your womb…..

Lol! I suck.

Imagine, if you will, being scared of begonias,
those horrid plump red or white fla’ars.
If you don’t watch your step, they will grab your ankonias,(Shut UP! This is MY poem.)
You’ll trip, hit your head and see stars!
They like living in dim light with their thick waxy stems,
invite spiders to hang ‘mongst thier leaves. (The bastards)
I’m sure that they’re plotting, every last one of them(s)
to grow feet, jump and hang from the eaves.
The final installment of their plot so insidious,
is to touch me with their icky thick limbs.
Then die and decay in the heat of the day,
forcing me to make contact with their STILL thick,
rubbery, ICKY selves as I try to gather them all into
a pile for burning which won’t light because they’re
all still full of liquidy, waxy, smushy GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

Imagine, if you will, being scared of dill,
It would suck because it’s a really nice herb.

End of story.

Imagine, if you will, being scared of your own self
Unable to look at your own self in the eye
Ashamed and unsure, hesitant and disparaging.
Imagine, if you will, the fear twisting to hatred
Every move, thought and deed drowned in disgust
As you burn, beat, hit, torture and maim.
Imagine, if you will, waking up and turning to see
The shredded ruins of your own self curled in bed,
Hanging on to every last breath.
Imagine, if you will, the horror and shock you feel
As you fight to resuscitate, to enliven, to save
The withered, sad remains of your own self
(knowing well this was all done by you and you alone).
Imagine, if you will, the quiet intake of breath,
That first flutter, the awakening, the rejuvenating,
That deep strength only a resurrection can bring.

Imagine, if you will, knowing your own self
Wrapped in a calm, serene peace of understanding.

Imagine, if you will, being scared of trees.
Sorry can’t do the poem thing
or maybe I just don’t have time to
or maybe I just don’t want to
or maybe I have to do yardwork
instead.
Trees.

Imagine, if you will, being scared of poems.
Aaaahhhhhh!!!!!!

Poems
Makes me foams
At the mouthums.
Peoms

Imagine, if you
will, being scared of haikus.
and scared of poo, too.

haikus
give me da blues.

Homophobic elephants

Hydrophobic elephants.

Imagine being scared of,
Inhaling the air above.

Imagine, if you will:

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty & frightened.
Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading.
Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
~Rumi

Imagine if you will, being scared of your own shadow. It looks at me and refuses to move and then it moves when I am still. It makes such funny movements that I try to copy it and then I begin to dance and cannot stop.

Imagine, if you will, being scared of pitch black dark,
Which feels like velvet, deadening sound and somehow feel
So you don’t know what is there beside you
Floorless floor or banana peel.
Imagine muffled noise and cloying nearness
Of terrors that you can only fear
Even out-stretched fingers seem to lie
About the horrors that might be near.
Dare you scrunch up, seated on that floor
Where spiders, snakes and cockroach might trawl?
Was that a movement in the black,something moved against your hair?
Dare you think of what or what or if normality will call?

Imagine, if you will,
being scared of being left alone,
and then
having it happen.

Imagine, if you will:
Being scared of the sun,
the moon and stars,
Of the Earth’s rotation
and the movement beneath your feet,
Where the elder and stricken are left to sleep.
Imagine if you will,
being scared of the life around you,
of the sense of no control
the epic questions with out answers
the reasons with out facts,
the fear of the end not fullfilling the beginning or middle,
just left to end the book that was written for you.

Imagine if you will, being scared of a town,
One on a hill, where back you’re bound,
Nothing fills, not a sound,
Where you were born, once filled with life,
Abandoned and torn, as if from strife,
Now you mourn, tears burn like knives.

No one remains, not a soul,
Only you, who came back,
Followed your pains, paid the toll,
Looking for who, looking for what?

He beat your mother he beat your ass,
Always had another, blamed you fast,
Such a fucker, your misery was his task.
Still you return, to this bleak place,
Your soul churns, the damned they race,
All you learn, is you want to see his face.

But he’s gone, always has been,
He walked out, left you shattered,
It took so long, to see his sin,
But who saw it? You or him? At this crossroad, will it ever have mattered?

Now you’re fucked, in the head,
You pretend to be your dad, looking for you, to make everything right again.
You damn cluck, your soul is dead,
These delusions are bad, you such a foo’, and you’ll never mend.
That’s what he said, and now you’re him, looking for you, to free you from dread.
You walk the town, knowing you’ll find nothing,
But you don’t care, the cold don’t sting, fuck the meds, and fuck the strings.
You want a love that never was, because it’s all you knew,
Discard the truth that never was, to create happiness anew.

Imagine if you will, going back to a town,
Called Silent Hill,
Full of things that kill, that exist only under your sanity’s crown,
None is real, only your pain, and all you’ve known,
Come to a still, come to a groan,
Nothing inside you will be found, only your shattered innocence spiraling down and down

As you look for you, as no one looks for you, because they never knew you, your tombstone has no words, you have no tombstone, because you never were.

Look for the beast in your mind, all you find is what he made of you, all you find is your desires blind, a perfect beast a perfect mess, ready to die ready to kill, to become myth of Silent Hill.

…I played Silent Hill Shattered Memories and holy shit man, what a crazy game…