RESIST

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RESIST

 by Hugh A Tague
Gaslights gloaming deep amber rhetoric
 A train-wreck in reverse derailed in time
 Casting alternate darkness over hope
 Death and delusion with every pen's stroke.
 The desert's sand thick with my brother's blood
 Boots on the ground children in harm’s way
 Our body and mind no longer our own
 Jackals from afar secured his gold throne.
 Constitution of the people not of one president.
 RESIST all that's not true there is no alternate.

Forever Haunted

Lyman Allyn

Forever Haunted
by, Hugh A Tague

The blood red harvest moon shone through
the sparse Autumn treetops, chasing away
a fast moving thunderstorm. The cold
October wind blew down the quiet lane
making leaves dance, like spirits on the run.

A porch light set a warm glow on a jug of cider
placed next to a plate of candied apples.
A scarecrow stuffed with hay, stood sentry on the stoop
as a jack-o-lantern flickered the darkness
away from the walk.

Backlit by the streetlight, little witches, ghosts and goblins
cast elongated shadows. The sound of children laughing
echoed on the breeze, as they meandered up the street.

A ferocious storm shook the town many years ago.
Under the cover of darkness, a fugitive
slipped away from his confines.
Nothing that is good will come this night.
His vision clouded by evil, the escapee sped down the hill
like a runaway train, obliterating three very young trick-or-treaters, then crashing into the light pole, his life too ended just as swiftly as his victim’s.

The ground began to rumble as a powerful wind roared past,
and a wicked silence fell upon the lane. The moon’s light
washed the darkness away from the house
with the festive porch, revealing that it has actually
been long abandoned. The children had lived in that house.
Their parents unable to survive just feet away
from the place they perished, simply left,
never to return again.

All for a freedom that lasted but a splinter of time.
The killer’s soul now condemned to exist only in shadows,
tortured and twisted by the guilt of my sins,
yes my sins, it was me,
it was I who extinguished their lights
it was I, that ended their lives.

Every year since, on all hallows eve
I must look upon what I have done. I must relive it
over and over again. Because I have deprived
so many of so much, my spirit remains
infinitely restless.

My regret and sentence eternal,
by the shadows of that dark and evil Halloween night
I shall continue to be…
Forever Haunted.

Hate His Touch

Art by Anne Stokes
“Summon The Reaper” Art by AnneStokes

Hate His Touch

by Hugh A Tague

Would you deny his ardent touch, if you could?
Has he brought wisdom as well as great pain?
Vanity’s cry in your reflection withstood
Your ignorance washed away with his rain.
Foolishly thinking you can take back your night
Each minute belongs to him and him alone
With the same voice he turned your hair pure white
His hold is deep-reaching into the bone.
When you thought that he couldn’t be watching
Closing your eyes, you feel his grip release
Slipping into a place no clocks are ticking
His reign upon your life will never cease.
Hate him for keeping you within his shroud
The Reaper’s touch, you will not disallow.

Time’s Up

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Time’s Up

by Hugh A Tague

Foot steps echo louder as they near my cell
they said I will feel a pinch then warmth
death row inmate to eternal sleeper
releasing fear’s icy grip to the reaper.

Seven years of appeals my time is up
a heinous act someone just had to pay
I’m innocent I didn’t do the crime
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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