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Array ( [sid] => 186209 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Haunted By a Poltergeist [time] => 2019-05-11 01:01:04 [hometext] => [bodytext] => I bought this house because it was what my wife wanted.
But I wouldn/'/t have bought it if I had known it was haunted.
As I lie in bed, I can hear footsteps during the nights.
I/'/m constantly being watched and I/'/m paralyzed by fright.
My daughter was tripped and she fell down the stairs.
She/'/s paralyzed and permanently confined to a wheelchair.
I hear a man/'/s voice and if I ignore it, he begins to shout.
When I ask him what he wants, he always says "Get out".
When the voice speaks, the living room walls start to bleed.
I knew that we needed an exorcism but my wife disagreed.
When a priest came here, my wife laughed and showed no interest.
But when the priest tried to perform the exorcism, he was possessed.
He climbed to the top of my house and jumped off the roof.
This house is haunted and the priest/'/s death is the proof.
But when I said that we/'/re being haunted by a Poltergeist, my wife said there/'/s no such thing.
She refuses to accept that it/'/s a Poltergeist and that death and disaster is what it brings.
My wife will not accept the truth and I/'/m tired of having to constantly live in fear.
She can have this place but my daughter and I are getting the hell out of here. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 116 [topic] => 13 [informant] => randyjohnson [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
Haunted By a Poltergeist

Contributed by randyjohnson on Saturday, 11th May 2019 @ 01:01:04 AM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry



I bought this house because it was what my wife wanted.
But I wouldn/'/t have bought it if I had known it was haunted.
As I lie in bed, I can hear footsteps during the nights.
I/'/m constantly being watched and I/'/m paralyzed by fright.
My daughter was tripped and she fell down the stairs.
She/'/s paralyzed and permanently confined to a wheelchair.
I hear a man/'/s voice and if I ignore it, he begins to shout.
When I ask him what he wants, he always says "Get out".
When the voice speaks, the living room walls start to bleed.
I knew that we needed an exorcism but my wife disagreed.
When a priest came here, my wife laughed and showed no interest.
But when the priest tried to perform the exorcism, he was possessed.
He climbed to the top of my house and jumped off the roof.
This house is haunted and the priest/'/s death is the proof.
But when I said that we/'/re being haunted by a Poltergeist, my wife said there/'/s no such thing.
She refuses to accept that it/'/s a Poltergeist and that death and disaster is what it brings.
My wife will not accept the truth and I/'/m tired of having to constantly live in fear.
She can have this place but my daughter and I are getting the hell out of here.




Copyright © randyjohnson ... [ 2019-05-11 01:01:04]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Haunted By a Poltergeist (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Sunday, 12th May 2019 @ 03:58:25 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
The title of this poem gave the writer away.
Its antics like this regarding writing style that set you on a path that distinguishes you, which by the way, is a good thing.
Are there poltergeist, I have heard some claim the answer was hard to bare in any true offering.
My latest dog, I have had a few, checks out the room,
the room with no sounds, she gets spooked,
there is something there, honestly I do not know what,
but she does.
If only dogs could talk. They hold so many secrets,
and seem to know many things we humans
simply do not.

paralyzed by fear, a confrontation, as if, in war.
anything true, that is made more than abundantly
clear.
you know, I often might materialize something that
happened in the past, a trigger that someone tries
to block far off to forget.

The poltergeist, the ghost of the dead among us
all slowly coming into the room where you can
suddenly feel their coldness, and slowly,
ever so, ever so slowly, the fridge opens, it/'/s bright light
illuminates the darkness.
If I was dead and lived in some middle state,
the fridge is the first place I/'/d go towards.
Go towards the light, Go towards the two days old delicatessen sandwich, and hopefully, some Pliny the Elder, bottle of beer.

The thought of it claws at my soul.
I am hungry and thirsty, and scared, really
really scared.

My dog is grabbing at my pant legs, no, don/'/t do it,
stay, she barks, stay you stupid human.

I am rendered unconscious and when I awake,
I find her sitting on the sofa with my Pliney, and
the old sandwich, and she/'/s watching
Leave it to Beaver, and wagging her tail.

Peace!

Peace!




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