Eli!

The young girl walked very slowly

down a crowded and noisy street

head bowed feeling alone so lowly

not wanting to talk shuffling her feet

dejection showed in her pretty face

looking much older than her years

another statistic lost without trace

in dingy streets where evil appears

each day filled with so deep despair

forced to be abused just to survive

felt no decent human was out there

not caring if she were dead or alive

sixteen years had passed Eli by

parents threw her out at fifteen

confused upset wondering why

learning how life could be so mean

met a man she thought was nice

but he introduced her to drugs

which led in a short time to vice

he was a pimp one of many thugs

she was deep in a unable to escape

began to think death the one release

desperately contacted an old mate

who unknown had joined the police

through an inner strength and will

helping her got away from the shit

now happy at eighteen no longer ill

survived to tell had risen from the pit!

 

Joyfully a young life had been saved

from the clutches of exploitation

hoping her life from now on paved

with respect and full of celebration!

 

#TheFoureyedPoet.

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The Community!

They lived in a small rural community

each were related

growing their own food blissfully free

proud of their labour

pure delight in what they had achieved

in one another believed!

 

Established when the land was colonised

many had perished here

during a long battle to secure the district

lush and green so fertile

until one day unnoticed high in the sky

an unmarked plane did fly!

 

Trails that at first seemed like vapour

but never faded away

as chemicals were being sprayed out

that fell onto those below

absorbed by the rich cultivated soil

where the families did toil!

 

Also breathed into the lungs of the folk

penetrating their cells

undetectable they were contaminated

every living creature

succumbed to the chemicals deployed

the community soon destroyed!

 

Unable to explain why crops withered

they became seriously ill

over a few months the area deserted

those pioneers now history

why never knew thought an act of god

did not think it was odd!

 

That from the open skies chemicals fell

turning paradise into hell!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

Just!

Just to walk along any road is hard

who is around

uneven pavements rubbish thrown

the impression

of a society without responsibility

or sensitivity!

 

What if you were attacked or ill

who would help

some would go around or steal

respect is rare

any physical health disabilities

or mental instabilities!

 

The vulnerable at risk of abuse

police are stretched

likewise the ambulance services

that feeling of despair

profit comes before any integrity

or real sincerity!

 

The monsters from nightmares

cannot compare

with cruelty humans can inflict

on those with little

taking their self-respect away

when unable to pay!

 

Those on high can never grasp

the term surviving

think they understand issues

by removing funds

squeezing the will to carry on

then hope has gone!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

 

The Club!

The club was built on a slaughter-house site

where death was embedded

in eighteen twenty-one the hauntings began

soon as the wooden structure

opened for business visitors felt the chill

many became violently ill!

 

Voices were heard flies often filled the air

nobody understood why

did tainted blood washed down the well

on the ancient burial ground

cause the disturbances in the night spot

did it cause a man to be shot?

 

Before long more murders took place inside

some put down to drink

others were not se easy to find the reasons

in the twenties booze was band

in america prohibition was being enforced

by the feds strictly endorsed!

 

Violence escalated as gangsters profits grew

those opposing disappeared

eventually it was forced to close left empty

used by squatters and worse

devil worshippers found it ideal for rituals

breaking every holy rule!

 

It remained like this until the nineteen eighties

when a musician a venue

refitted it to his own country music design

the first manager it was said

became possessed by an entity in torment died

sinister shadows roamed inside!

 

Female screams often chilled many party goers

flying glasses and furniture

that moved without any human intervention

began to give the establishment

the wrong publicity the owner and staff wanted

soon with ghost hunters confronted!

 

Now to this day paranormal groups are certain

the activity is credibly real

has not diminished within spirits and demons

are there resident inside

one of the most haunted dwellings it is said

that fills most visitors with dread!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

 

The Dwelling!

The dwelling seemed fine on moving in

not believing in spirits or ghosts

nineteen seventies construction of brick

small but adequate for one

noticed it always had an irksome chill

told nobody had died or been ill!

 

Occasionally the unscheduled eery noises

the feeling of being watched

finding it freezing even with heating on

from storage heaters to gas

with no difference to temperature drops

particularly in the cold spots!

 

 

Thoughts of natural explanations remained

always sceptical to the end

that odd tapping sound on the bedroom door

may well have made them shiver

in the back of your mind an element of doubt

subconsciously wanting to shout!

 

Doors closing and opening must be air pressure

surely was the logical reason

often questioning the state of your own sanity

as items disappear only to turn up

your phone moved from the table perplexing

now on a lower shelf really vexing!

 

I wait to see if my imagination is the route cause

or if there is a spiritual clause!

 

As I alone live within this dwelling!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

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