“Fear The Evil” (Poem)

Beckie's Mental Mess

(via She will never leave. | Flickr - Photo Sharing!)

“Fear The Evil”


What lurks in the darkness?

What makes that bump in the middle of the night?

Face distorted, the creepy starkness;

heighten adrenaline, frozen from the sight.

Who, or what lingers outside your bedroom door?

Evil awaits you, but your limbs cannot move,

you get a quick glimpse, its feet not touching the floor.

Trepidation has settled in, you can’t muster a whimper nor a scream,

your pulse feels as if it’s about to burst;

Fear the evil that lingers within your dream,

as it knocks outside your door, you hear it mutter and curse…

“Bitch, you’re mine now!”

Suddenly the alarm sounds, you awake shaken,

sunlight piercing through the clouds as beads of sweat rest on your brow.

BC 2019

Photo Credit: Pinterest

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For Them ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Walt's Writings

This poem is for all of them, and we
all know who they are.

Nothing is ever enough
For them
You are never good enough
For them
Everyone tries to be their best
For them
But nothing ever matters
To them
Except themselves
In their mind the world revolves
Around them
They think we owe it all
To them
That everything good has come
From them
Now is the perfect time to
Tell them
That we are sick and tired
Of them
So goodbye
Get out
So long
We’re done

~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2019 All Rights Reserved

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Tea Granny


She lost him last year
Seventy one he was
In their decades,
he brought her tea to her chair,
two, three, four times a night.
“Are you bottomless?” he would say.
She would smile,
because she knew he would bring it anyway.

Yard sales were their favourite haunt,
and he would always pick up some foolish trinket
to add to her dusty collection.
She would feign annoyance,
but would have him build another shelf when needed.

They were good together, and their money was enough.
But no more.
Behind in the rent,
she was turned out of their neat little apartment.
Welfare led her to this forlorn hallway
with a door that would not lock,
a peephole without a peeper.
A one person kitchen.
A hotplate.
A rollaway bed.
Cracked walls and peeling paper.

Her collection? Thrown away in tears.
Except the one thing he had bought her
that she…

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One from the archive.



This is a shot I took in 2011 when I did more urban exploration than I do today.
I took this at an old derelict hospital not far from my home. It has been sealed off and emptied in the past few years, and is no longer so much fun to photograph.

Leica MP
Nikon 20mm f/2,8 AIS (Novoflex Lei/Nik adapter)
Ilford XP2 store developed negatives
Home scanned Epson V700.

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