Voices of Electric Venom

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
poems

Submitted: April 14, 2019

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Submitted: April 14, 2019

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It’s Like They Slash the Sanity of the Sky

with Voices of Electric Venom

 

And other Poems

 

 

 

-by B. Edwards

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Like They Slash the Sanity of the Sky

with Voices of Electric Venom

 

 

 

It’s been some time

Since I’ve heard

One of those

Electric saw blade

Sounding voices

I used to hear them

All of the time

Back during the early days

Of my entity oppression

 

It’s as if

They would emerge

From the air

And strafe my mind

With a voice

Of utter bizarre sounding

Creepiness

 

It’s hard to describe

Accurately

With words

The characteristics

Of these particular voices

With how they sounded

 

It’s like

They slash

The sanity of the sky

With voices

Of electric venom

 

Hot sparks

And shards

Of madness

Flying out at you

 

Audio tones

In the spectrum

Of the ominous

Reverberate

Through the blitzed

Psychic plateau

Of the spirit

 

Your third eye

Finding tattered fragments

Of your sacred memories

Dangling from skeletal trees

 

 

***

 

 

  • 4/14/2019

 

 

 

 

 

Hostile Dimensional Voices Harassment At One in the Morning

 

 

April 14, 2019

1:02am

I just made a go at sleep

Attempt number one

Was a failure

The younger female sounding voice

“Crystal”

Was getting in close

And wouldn’t stop chattering

She also hit me

With a few “brain zaps”

That damn thing of theirs

Where they shout a single word

In my head real fast

And it gives me

A physical jolt

It’s quite a disturbance

When you’re trying to sleep

 

Tonight

I was also feeling

Movement on my bed

It seemed very much

Like “something”

Was moving up the bed

To get close

To my right ear

This “something” that moved

Had a voice

And this voice

Confirmed its name to me

Not a hard one to guess at here

Yeah…..it was “Crystal”

The voice that I first heard

On my EVP recordings

But no recording

Could confine her it seems

Now just talking to me

Up a storm once again

At one in the morning

This hour

Is so often a rough one for me

I bet that many of my poems

Talk about hearing these voices

At one in the morning

I suppose it’s because

I usually turn in for the night

Around 11:30 or 12

I make an attempt at sleep

And it’s during this first attempt

That “they”

Cause me the most trouble

If I’m lucky

I’ll fall asleep fast enough anyway

Other times

I just seem to linger there for awhile

Moving into that half-awake

And half-asleep state

And often

It’s when I’m in

This in-between state

That “they” seem to get stronger

At times in the past

This is when they’ve hit me

With the physical disturbances

At a very intense level

This is often usually when

They’ll hit me

With a troubling nightmare

But in a way I’m lucky

I don’t get hit

With the nightmares that often

I don’t know why

Perhaps it’s the sleep-aid

That I often take

So sometimes

I just get fed up with it

So I get out of bed

Go outside for a smoke

Take another dose or two of sleep-aid

Wait a few minutes

For it to take effect

It’s these few minutes

When I’m waiting

That I’ll often jot down a poem

Like this one

I suppose in a way

It’s essentially a journal

I simply prefer to write it out

Like a poem

Rather than long hand

It’s also a brief record of events

A kind of late night

Paranormal journalism

I try not to speculate too much

I try not to fill my head

With ideas about them too much

I simply write down

The events that are happening

Writing also allows me

To vent a little as well

Which I find to be

A very important thing

When I finish a poem

Late at night

When I’m aggravated by the voices

It often feels

Like I get something off my chest

And it gets me ready

To go back

And make another attempt at sleep

Like I’m about to do

Right now

 

 

***

 

  • 4/13/2019

 

 

 

 

In this dark room

From an apparent fissure

In space-time

Dimension

That I cannot see

 

A transmission

A voice

From some other plane

Has a message

A voice speaks

Yet the message of the voice

Is a labyrinth

 

A reverberation

A message of confusion

Enters my ears

 

An electric motor sound

From the kitchen

Down the hallway

Catapults

Another voice

Another ethereal transmission

Into the No Man’s Land

Of my mind

This late at night

 

***

 

4/14/2019

 

 

 

In this room

This morning

Brightly lit

By an ascending Sun

 

A young sounding

Female voice speaks

 

The voice itself

Possesses a sound

A characteristic

That appears non-threatening

 

But it is serrated

In its actions

Of intrusion

 

It is like

An enemy’s sabre

Slashing through the stillness

 

The voice itself

Possesses a characteristic

That appears

Anything but hostile

Yet this is

A weaponized deception

 

 

***

 

  • 4/14/2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2019 B.W. Edwards. All rights reserved.

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