Tag: horror

Upcoming Show: We All Have Fears!

So I’ve been quiet on here for the last little while, but it’s all been for a good reason, I swear!

It’s because I’ve been working on my first ever full-length, solo show, which debuts at the Edinburgh Horror Festival this Friday!  Banshee Labyrinth at 6.00pm!

I’m scared and excited for this!  A mix of some old and new material all neatly packaged in a strange little box.  I have no idea how well this is going to go, but I’ll definitely be keeping you all posted!  Who knows, I might even create a nice little book from this, or post up a video or poem or two!

#PoeticAnswers 65 – Were The Weeping Angels Just Tired?

Hiding eyes,
Always open,
Never sleeping,
Eyes wide open,
Behind open hands,
They are always open,
Their eyes, their jaws, their minds,
Always thinking, plotting, manipulating,
Waiting for you to fail and your eyes to fall,
Waiting across the oceans of time, forever.

Always hungry,
Always thirsting,
Always waiting to
Kill you with kindness.
Or the closest thing to it.
There are worse ways to die
Than to live your life out of sync.
Live your life out of time until your time runs dry
No guns, no blood, no heartbreak.
Just blink.

They don’t sleep,
They don’t need to,
They’ve been resting
Since the dawn of their time.
Going from being quantum locked
In one place until you break your gaze,
Then they become stepping stones in a dark room,
The threat in the night, in the darkness, following and stalking,
Treading the shadows of your life for all of your time so, if anything,

They were just tired of waiting.

Question from Megan C. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 35 – Are Vampires Halal?

I understand your thought process
Due to the blood-letting
But due to religious tones, I confess
The subject matter could be upsetting

Traditional vampires bite straight in the throat.
Modern vampires are somewhat irregular;
Going to blood banks, tampons or even goats
As opposed to going straight for the jugular

The religious process of prayer,
And the method of draining the blood,
Does not truly follow the requisites of a vampire.
Due to similarities of Islamic and Christian faith, I doubt they would try, even if they could.

Vampirism is not halal but if this is not satisfactory,
There is but one near exception, her name is Erzsébet Báthory.

Question from my good friend, Isla M. 

#PoeticAnswers 11 – Who Is That Red Man In The Bathroom?

“Who is that red man in the bathroom?”
My child asked.
Her voice trembling with fear.
Her small hand wrapped around
The edges of her pyjama top.

“There is no man in the bathroom”
I assured her.
I took her hand in mine,
Shaking like a leaf,
As cold as ice.

As we walked the dark hallway
As we adventured back to her room,
She stopped by the bathroom door.
Her eyes locked on the metal handle,
Stained with blood.

“You’re seeing things darling”
I nudged her on,
But it was too late.
She reached out,
Then she screamed.

I pulled her back and held her close,
I prayed she thought this was a dream.
But her little mind was too far gone,
I can’t imagine what she thought,
I don’t want to.

“He’s in there!
His eyes are white,
I think he’s dead,
He’s dead dad,
He’s just hanging there!”

I brought her face to mine,
Those sweet innocent eyes,
Tarnished, wading in pools of
Tears and blood.
They were too young for this.

“It’s okay, I promise!
I just cut myself shaving”
I prayed she’d believe me but
If I can’t convince myself,
How can I convince her?

She fought my grasp
And tore open the door,
Casting shadow on the floor.
Clutching at empty shapes
In a cocktail of hope and dread.

“He’s here daddy”
But her hands found nothing,
And the shadows that had been cast,
Turned to doubt
With a flick of the lightswitch.

I saw those eyes,
Those tear-stained, petrified eyes.
It won’t happen tonight,
It won’t happen tomorrow,
She’ll never know.

“There’s no one here honey,
Now go back to bed.”
As I tried to assuage
The thoughts in her head,
As I tucked her in, and kissed her goodnight.

And as she slept,
I slunk back to fix my mistake.
I closed the door and took a step back,
Ready to face the truth,
I stared at the mess I left behind.

It was my shadow, my second skin.
Red for the blood,
Black for the bruises.
I raged at myself and my stupidity,
I don’t want to be her nightmares

Maybe one day she’ll understand,
I’m doing this for her,
So she can have a better world,
So she can be safe.
She must never know who I am.

Question from Rebecca L. from Facebook