Joe

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Sighting

Nightly vigils I have invested.

I search the great void for our technology bested.

A craft of clever design I do behold.

In it's glory of shine and gold.

Now I know, it matters not what others think.

We are surely on the brink.

OZ FACTOR

The clatter of ghostly sounds

Enters rooms in which it abounds.

Look as I may I find no reason or source.

My actions lay mute influenced by alien force.

Swirling shadows do from wall cascade.

While other wonders join in their parade.

The sounds of goodly night take flight.

Vision of form is all but slight.

All is absent, hollow and still.

To fight becomes my fading will.

Actions of body I cannot find.

Silent voices from another kind.

The world I once knew has become minor and stranger.

My senses reap its terror and danger.

My consciousness is all but crashed.

What humanity I have left will soon be trashed.

Yet when morning comes all will have been forgotten,

That last night I was one of the down trodden.

Demons in shades of Gray

The witching hour has past, but not to my relief.

The demons of silent cause, slip the fabric of my belief.

I know not their name or from where they hail.

Yet they know me like brethren past and all that is frail

How did this come to past.

What great cause formed this cast?

The quirk of insanity would be so much the saner.

To the boundless mind it couldn't be much plainer.

To accept what is, would unbalance the foothold of reality in

pause.

All is surely lost if I think like the man I once gave cause.