Two Haunted Poems by Scott Cumming

Punk Noir Magazine

For Those Who Fear Me Dead

For those who fear me dead

You are right

Sustain myself with blood

eternally searching for lost love

 

The nectar upon which I feed pales

When I feel the contraction

of muscles and tendons

when I pull them closer

feel the final breath

the waning of the heartbeat

witness the pallor fall

 

The dead tell no lies

My blood the tie that binds

Open my wrists

for you

to mop up

the sweet autumn dew

and join me

in painting the town

crimson.

Ghost Machine

Easy not to believe

When you’ve never seen

 

You just haven’t looked hard enough

Ghosts of the past all around us

 

Holding on malevolently

The slavers, jailers, betrayers

legacies live on

in webpages and applications

 

Fought multiple wars

for the freedom

to make the same mistakes

again and again

 

Progress oppressed

by ghosts and ghouls

pulling at ropes

turned to strings

speaking as marionettes

for things best forgotten.