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THE HORROR - Redneck Clubhouse - Of, By and For Rednecks!

Writin' Poems, stories, anything you've written that you'd like to share

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Old March 28th, 2013, 07:50 AM
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Default THE HORROR

Frantic, panicked, climbing walls,
something clammy, on my skin crawls.
There's no escape, it won't let go,
the horror of it is all I know.
Screeching, scraping, I want to scream,
this can't be real, must be a dream.
If I dream, please let me wake,
this crawling horror I cannot take.
Running blindly, where can I hide,
can't hide from fear, it grows inside.
Inside, outside, what can it be,
it's everywhere, it's all I see.
Rustling, slithering, a loathsome sound,
in abject terror, the wall I pound.
It scrabbles, it scuttles, across the floor,
I must escape, there is no door.
It grows, it brings impending doom,
it covers me, it fills the room.
It smothers me, there is no air,
it closes in, how I despair.
No one hears my stifled crys,
it fills my lungs, my mouth, my eyes.
Tremendous weight presses down on me,
I cannot move, I cannot flee.
It's blacker than the darkest night,
my eyes are open wide in fright.
I'm trapped, doomed, can't draw a breath,
please release me unto death.
Torture, agony, living Hell,
the will to live, the horror can kill.
I cannot live, cannot go on,
Although still living, my mind is gone.
The horror is gone, I've gone away,
I left my body, I could not stay.
See my eyes, the vacant stare,
although it's me, I am not there.
I'm still here there, finally free,
the horror no longer reaches me.


[this probably seems pretty dark, but I was recalling the ''terror dreams'' I had as a kid. the dreams of smothering]
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Old March 28th, 2013, 10:25 AM
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Cielo Lindo Cielo Lindo is offline
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That is SO good. I had nightmares when I was a little girl. They were in stark black and white, and slow motion. I woke up screaming many a night.
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Old March 28th, 2013, 11:02 AM
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Default THE HAMMER

Woke up in the morning,
with a hammer in my head.
Pounding, pounding, pounding,
my eyes bloodshot, so red.
Got up too my feet,
fell facedown back to the floor.
The hammer pounding madly,
I crawled too the bathroom door.
Finally in the bathroom,
I stuggled to my feet.
Head was drumming wildly,
to the hammers steady beat.
i saw how in the sockets,
my eyeballs seemed to float'
He looked like death warmed over,
the man inside the mirror.
I know I had the feeling,
death was very near.
Looking for the dog that bit me,
I wished to bite it back.
Then I found the empty bottle,
of my old friend, Yukon Jack.
Not one single swallow,
was left to fix my head.
And the hammer's endless pounding,
had me wishing I was dead.
With the hammer madly pounding,
my head spinning round and round.
I was looking at the cieling,
while laying on the ground.
No hair of the dog that bit me,
this had to be the end,
How will I survive,
without my brewer's special blend.
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