Voices of the Macabre
By
John Ganshaw
Voices of excitement resonate in my ears.
half-hidden grins come to life as you watch them speak,
theatrics emboldening the grim details of maim and death that
they hawk for the world to see.
passion lives in the pain of which they seek,
stories to tell with an unspeakable glee.
veins in their necks pulse with heated blood with each word they say.
guide us into their world, hoping to create zombies to
believe the ill-gotten stories they preach.
if there are no zombies, they will lead the sheep.
to believe they are unbiased is a fantasy in our current times.
people die and no longer breathe, are we now
immune to the pain we see, to what we witness each
day we live, is the world we longed for it to be?
they rush to war for a first-hand peek.
they don’t just report like it used to be, they long for followers,
those who will like and share their tweets.
leave out a detail or even two; sensationalism is now a disease
throughout the media neighborhood.
trust in those with blood that drips from their hands;
it's a story to tell in all the far-off lands.
ignore the gun, the knife, and even the head they hold up with a hand.
it’s a front-page story; that is the only thing they care
about. thousands may die, but they go on, the fame they seek has no shame.
at the end of the day, they sit and chat, reminiscing
as the taste of bourbon graces their lips.
laughter reverberates from the halls from where they drink
while families hurry to bury the dead; this we don’t see.
the bodies have served their purpose for them; blood and
horror don’t sell when it's dried to the dead limbs of
those who only wish to live.
My Forever Life
Abandoned at the water's edge
looking across the endless sea
wade so deep and see no more
forever lost to find a home
wonder why I am alone
pull me into the heaven sky
release me to sleep, and
in death, I’ll be alive
Forever Haunted
They began when you put me in prison.
the lies you told to prevent me from speaking the truth;
If you only knew, I wouldn’t divulge all I have learned about you.
as payback, you come for me every night, once, twice,
three times, and more. I see you floating above
me, watching me and waiting for me to slip into
a slumber, slither down the wall to enter my head, bringing
your demented, perverted owner along. You torment me!
I feel your vampire's teeth bite into my chest, tearing
and ripping my flesh to grab my heart,
pulling it out of my body, holding it in front of my eyes,
licking it before you take a huge bite, salivating at the taste as
if you are sucking the juice from a peach. You are enjoying
that you are dissecting me as I breathe. Slowly
, you force what’s left of my beating organ back
inside. Swallowing what you bit off, licking your lips, and
relishing that I will never be whole again. You savor the
taste of my blood as it drips off your chin. You come so often
that I wait for you, never disappointing me as you
arrive every time I sleep. I’ve seen you die and am
unable to save you. I sit up, trembling, screaming, and punching
the dresser. The meds I take to stop your visits
can’t prevent you from visiting. You avoid my attempts
to stop you, but I can’t escape your reach. You find me,
haunt me and keep me awake. I wish I could hate you, but I can’t.
The piece of the organ you left in me contains
the love, hurt, and pain I will always and forever carry.
I feel you here beside me; I hear you speak and call me
to sleep; I am ready for your visit and me to succumb.
I can’t fight you anymore, I can’t forget you, I don’t
want to forget you. The agony you caused, yet I know,
I survived all you did. I now accept that you will
always live inside me and feed on me as I do you.
John retired to follow his dream of owning a hotel in Southeast Asia after 31 years in banking. This led to many new experiences, enabling John to see the world through a different lens and to write his story through essays, poetry, and an unpublished memoir. John’s work has appeared in Dreich Magazine, Story Sanctum, Post Roe Alternatives, Fleas on the Dog, JoAmbidextrous Bloodhound, Free the Verse, eMerge, Unapologetic, and Sucarnochee Review among others. Nothing is as it seems; experiences are meant to shape us, not define us. Life has hope, truth, and adventure, leading to stories that must be written and told.
By
John Ganshaw
Voices of excitement resonate in my ears.
half-hidden grins come to life as you watch them speak,
theatrics emboldening the grim details of maim and death that
they hawk for the world to see.
passion lives in the pain of which they seek,
stories to tell with an unspeakable glee.
veins in their necks pulse with heated blood with each word they say.
guide us into their world, hoping to create zombies to
believe the ill-gotten stories they preach.
if there are no zombies, they will lead the sheep.
to believe they are unbiased is a fantasy in our current times.
people die and no longer breathe, are we now
immune to the pain we see, to what we witness each
day we live, is the world we longed for it to be?
they rush to war for a first-hand peek.
they don’t just report like it used to be, they long for followers,
those who will like and share their tweets.
leave out a detail or even two; sensationalism is now a disease
throughout the media neighborhood.
trust in those with blood that drips from their hands;
it's a story to tell in all the far-off lands.
ignore the gun, the knife, and even the head they hold up with a hand.
it’s a front-page story; that is the only thing they care
about. thousands may die, but they go on, the fame they seek has no shame.
at the end of the day, they sit and chat, reminiscing
as the taste of bourbon graces their lips.
laughter reverberates from the halls from where they drink
while families hurry to bury the dead; this we don’t see.
the bodies have served their purpose for them; blood and
horror don’t sell when it's dried to the dead limbs of
those who only wish to live.
My Forever Life
Abandoned at the water's edge
looking across the endless sea
wade so deep and see no more
forever lost to find a home
wonder why I am alone
pull me into the heaven sky
release me to sleep, and
in death, I’ll be alive
Forever Haunted
They began when you put me in prison.
the lies you told to prevent me from speaking the truth;
If you only knew, I wouldn’t divulge all I have learned about you.
as payback, you come for me every night, once, twice,
three times, and more. I see you floating above
me, watching me and waiting for me to slip into
a slumber, slither down the wall to enter my head, bringing
your demented, perverted owner along. You torment me!
I feel your vampire's teeth bite into my chest, tearing
and ripping my flesh to grab my heart,
pulling it out of my body, holding it in front of my eyes,
licking it before you take a huge bite, salivating at the taste as
if you are sucking the juice from a peach. You are enjoying
that you are dissecting me as I breathe. Slowly
, you force what’s left of my beating organ back
inside. Swallowing what you bit off, licking your lips, and
relishing that I will never be whole again. You savor the
taste of my blood as it drips off your chin. You come so often
that I wait for you, never disappointing me as you
arrive every time I sleep. I’ve seen you die and am
unable to save you. I sit up, trembling, screaming, and punching
the dresser. The meds I take to stop your visits
can’t prevent you from visiting. You avoid my attempts
to stop you, but I can’t escape your reach. You find me,
haunt me and keep me awake. I wish I could hate you, but I can’t.
The piece of the organ you left in me contains
the love, hurt, and pain I will always and forever carry.
I feel you here beside me; I hear you speak and call me
to sleep; I am ready for your visit and me to succumb.
I can’t fight you anymore, I can’t forget you, I don’t
want to forget you. The agony you caused, yet I know,
I survived all you did. I now accept that you will
always live inside me and feed on me as I do you.
John retired to follow his dream of owning a hotel in Southeast Asia after 31 years in banking. This led to many new experiences, enabling John to see the world through a different lens and to write his story through essays, poetry, and an unpublished memoir. John’s work has appeared in Dreich Magazine, Story Sanctum, Post Roe Alternatives, Fleas on the Dog, JoAmbidextrous Bloodhound, Free the Verse, eMerge, Unapologetic, and Sucarnochee Review among others. Nothing is as it seems; experiences are meant to shape us, not define us. Life has hope, truth, and adventure, leading to stories that must be written and told.
