Ghost Story

I’ve never met a ghost,

Actually that is not entirely true,

When I was very young I believed I saw my grandfather

He provided some advice as he briefly spoke to me,

But I’m not ready to call him a ghost, perhaps an apparition,

But the whole haunted house

And paranormal activity, is really not for me,

With their green lights and fancy vans,

 High Tech gear, cameras and fancy paraphernalia,

Devouring an hour maybe two, try as they might

 They fail in bringing any ghoul or ghastly beast to light,

Yes they do claim to hear moans and groans,

Creaking floors and slamming doors,

 To which they weave between semi-interesting back-story

Then every once in a while, when the spirits are in the mood

We may get a shattered window or light bulb breaking,

To which the teams run to fast, dizzying the camera angles,

Panting heavy into microphones,

But never once is it a ghost or emanation,

When all they had to do was take a sheet

And toss it over anyone and call it a specter

Black Metal Opera

A persistent sound attracts to me,

organic in revelry, eerily attaching

With each step, volume shakes and treble punches,

guitars are the first upon the scene,

a pitter-patter, hum-drumming of a creeping tune,

its beat expires, then renews,

joined by drums and then by symbol, shriek and violent boom,

Finally, the piercing bass arrives,

force-feeding adrenaline through ill-equiped veins,

quicken and it shall too, 
into a chilling, sudden flash of chasing inquisition,

heartbeats explode in silent deprivation,

from the steady flow of racing blood

to the shallow breathing-
paced tenuously throughout the lungs,

Crescendo to diminuendo to crescendo again

This internal melody is haunting in all it's many ways,

 unearthing nostalgia from the childhood, 
where a refusal to listen reigned above,

Soundtrack and soul have merged,

to where the language of song flourishes its deadly plumes,
entrenching its very coils deep within tissue, pliable to mold

Upon ascension the senses quiver 
then swell,

like thunder issuing warning,

prior to lightning strike,

 A Black Metal opera shadows-encloaks

protecting, attracting, the flesh 
from all things unknown 




Stu McPherson is hosting Poetics over at D'Verse tonight and has issued a musical decree.  I've written many different pieces about music and song over the years. From what I've read so far, there are many directions one could go with this prompt.  I thought about going the route where you list the names and or song titles of artists, which I've done a few of, but after reading Claudia's piece today, who took the prompt in a way I hadn't considered before, I thought I'd go in a different direction myself.  And so, there's the backstory for why I chose this particular piece, which appropriately enough, tonight, is being raised from the archives to sing it's metal song once more.