Metaphysical Mysteries
Proclivity towards paranormal activity
In these wild woods, curiosity is grabbing me
deep darkness stretches somberly for miles
my mind downloads its fearful files
unsure of what’s surrounding me
waves crashing into withering trees
I hear a cry and suddenly freeze
flashing bright light burning through the night
that ghastly face gave me a fright
I scream, run, and question my sight
my back tensed up, my shoulders tight
I pause, pant, and replay it in my mind
my body longing to leave, my spirit eager to find
I finally return to the place of the unknown
now fully aware that I’m not alone—
the metaphysical mysteries of the beyond
unfamiliar, frenetic, yet fun and fond
the dangerous draw of devilish dames
who once played parts in earthly games
their choices burning black through chimneys
of time, trapped souls that cannot climb
to the star sprinkled sky, sparkling beyond any reason why
where legends live eternally, free from yearning, free to fly
they shoot streams of consciousness across the expanse
reminding us to take that chance
Rainy, windy, autumn night
creepy cobblestone, alive and alight
lady’s lantern burning bright
with a warm, dark, golden light
she tells tales of love, longing, and pain
while the EMF reading shoots up insane
from traffic-light green to stop-it red
excitement mixed with drops of dread
I hold it out and still, as she speaks
of treachery, fires, and scandalous leaks
of kooky characters, immortalized, and deceased
whose spooky spectacles made tenants beg to break their lease
poltergeists passing through lonely streets
and haunted houses: flickering, frightening, feats
of energy felt, though just out of sight
they sent scents so foul…made my nose tight
and traveled up my nostrils hot
like when I smoke some potent pot
and drifted down my throat to soak
I knew it would leave eventually… at least, I hoped
the story-stellar soothed my woes that I covered carefully in lighthearted jokes
as I tried to stay adventurous and unafraid, already aware that I might be a sage
or psychic but it’s too early to tell, when I was Christian, I thought they went to Hell
but now I’m no— or better yet, I don’t know, exactly which religion is right
all I know is that, tonight, I feel energy and see a big, bright, light, unable to be seen with
my naked eye, only through my clouded camera
I’m steadying my stamina, for the rest of this wet, wild, guided ghost tour
that is far from mild, of spirits’ prevailing presence, I am certainly sure
some are depressed, others pure
some filled with regrets, others distressed, demure
wistful, wounded, women weeping
touching tenants while they’re soundly sleeping
creeping, while heaving heavy, grieving hearts—
sad, sunken, souls who cannot depart
As we walk, wandering through the rain, questions begin burgeoning in my brain
stimulating conversation, evident elation in our guide’s eyes,
genuine delight as she talks and her eyebrows rise
telling tales of this nefarious nest, notorious for housing moonshine, it’s a festive,
fall orange, Victorian style, looking mighty fine, in a location so prime, where
wayward tools start up on a dime, and ambling apparitions drip water and drink wine
I remind myself that nothing in this material world will last
and ponder why these spirits are stuck in the past
why can’t they move on to the big, bold, and vast
expanse of this universe that keeps us together
that blazes benevolent, and beautiful, forever and ever
so can we just enjoy this time together?
try our best to pass these tests, what means the most
make mistakes, make it great, and make some toasts
fall in love, create, play, learn, and grow
to be confident but not to boast
because this is our lives, so we gotta stay true
whatever that means to you
who gives a fuck, right?
after all, no one knows
when the time will finally come for us
to become a star
or a groaning ghost