LUNARSONGS (Full Digital Version)

Forward: 

Today I release the follow up to ISOLATIONIST and that is… LUNARSONGS! Instead of the usual sad poems, this one is more focused on horror. A common theme I had when writing this particular batch of writings is nightmares I would have over the year. So I thought it’d be fun is this particular collection followed a single REM sleep and the nightmares that follow… with an appearance of a sleep paralysis demon thing. All fun stuff. So this too has a narrative like ISOLATIONIST does. In ISOLATIONIST, the idea is that the storm must pass over a difficult time in your life. In LUNARSONGS, the night has to end and you will wake up from the bad dreams… Or do you?!?! I promise to be more upbeat in my next collection. Probably not, but I’ll try. 

This is a Pay What You Want model and take whatever you want for it! $0? Sounds good. $5? Even better for me. And if you’d like a physical (hand made!) copy, get a hold of me and I’ll be happy to send a copy for $5 (plus shipping.) If you’d like to have me keep going with writing and such, I can be paid by: 

Facebook: My account @Cody Wagner 

Cash app:$Dawritingcods

PayPal:  

Venmo: @Cody-Wagner-72

Sweet dreams… 

LUNARSONGS

Dedicated To:

Mom and Dad for introducing me to spooky movies, 

John Carpenter for making “Halloween;” Mom and Dad’s first date in 1978.

And to all the frightening friends

That supplied recommendations of the macabre over the years. 

You’re all sick. I love you dearly.

You somehow fuel 

Both my nightmares and my dreams. 

Thank you.

“Prelude to a Nightmare” 

My skeletons lie in no closets. 

They are wrapped in the vines 

Of the orchards. 

As I began to drift off 

To a terrible, terrible dream,

Here are my confessions 

Of what was whispered to me.

This isn’t for us 

This is for the flies.

“The Thing of Nightmares”

Nightmares are the stories we tell ourselves

When we're not aware of them.

Upon the threat of sleep,

We realize why we fear nightmares:

We're terrified with what we come up with

When we allow ourselves to dream.

"The Sinew Tapestries"

We’re all connected.

Bound together

Through cartilage and sinew

To form a singular tapestry. 

Our nightmares, ours fears 

Ripped, defiled, and all torn apart.

Threaded through connective tissue,

We are bound. 

Hung on display 

Is not our shame, nor weakness.

Here, adorned upon the walls,

This is our perseverance. 

In this tapestry

Are the parts of us

That continue to survive

This vicious bloodletting.

You take a part of me, as I do you, 

And show just how much dissection

We continue to endure

While we stitch ourselves back together. 

These are our secrets kept close.

These are our stories come to light.

These are the stitches 

Pulled open for all to see. 

“Lunarsong” 

I will feed the moon

With ash and blood. 

With it, may moonlight shine

In my dreamscapes. 

Rest upon the roar

As I set myself ablaze.

I have no use in divine moonlight. 

As nerves numb, becoming nonexistent.

Light beckons dark, beckoning new light. 

This lunarsong sings

With the sacrificial suffering

Of this unworthy moonchild.

"Wailing of the Wolf" 

    Howling rode with the wind in the empty dark. The calls were not returned. It's been a long while since a response echoed the lone wolf's cries. The day was short in the fact that food was not plentiful. Despite the lack of a hunt it had to keep moving forward. Legs buckled. Sickness invades. Hunger cripples. Sleep calls now, so it manages to find comfort somehow. It feels the world peering in onto its misfortunes. Not without reason since it was recently ousted from its pack. For what reason? Does it matter now? No one's there to take shifts of guarding the uncertainty. Now's the time for sleep. Does this night somehow seem darker than usual? 

    Waking up is not guaranteed tonight, I'm afraid.

    All admire to be a lone wolf. An army of one, an entity lacking in vulnerability, but none consider what happens to the wolves that journey alone. They die. The pack survives as such - a pack, allies to depend on, and for them in turn to depend on one another. Without that community, the dark begins to feel more occupied and weighted in a lingering dread. In the dark are allies that benefit the shadows. What a futile attempt to survive the strange world alone. The wolf feels a lot more surrounded than it did with other warm bodies to sleep next to. Oh, how the night howls back as it takes the last whimper of this particular wolf. The morning shines a little brighter for the pack that still remains. 

“The Hangman & The Noose”

Together like the hangman and his noose

Forever in a dance, hanging off of you.

Interlocked - Together we sway

to the rhythm of the howling wind.

Together in the hanging tree, 

It was you who was killing me

Thanks to me, fastening the rope

we’ll never let each other down again.

You found out of the knots in my stomach

Beautifully twisted into the shapes I bend 

You took those knots, tying them carelessly

And hanged me when I looked away. 

It’s been centuries, swaying in the breeze,

Long forgotten the crime committed. 

Still we're bound, since the jump from the gallows.

Now you'll never let me down again. 

“The Thing of Nightmares II: (Mid-Sleep Disturbance)”

Eyes awaken before the body.

Mind on high alert 

In the midst of a quiet midnight. 

Then you spot it in your peripheral,

A figure standing in the corner,

A faceless void meeting your gaze. 

Frozen in place, 

You’re forced to stay still. 

Footsteps grow closer to the foot of the bed. 

It bellows a laugh from below

Its unseen maw, mocking you.

Still, you stay put in a failing body. 

It crawls on the bed, 

its hands squeezing tighter 

than your fists gripping the sheets. 

A moment bathed in malice;

A mere second frozen, 

Stretching to a near-eternity. 

You fear for death, 

For an outbreak of violence

From a figure made of fear, until

It speaks: 

“Go to sleep. 

Go back to sleep,

I’ll keep on watching.

We all will. 

Just go back to sleep...” 

“Cannibals Sleep Soundly”

Vultures looming as fighters in the forefront

Rip each other apart.

Watching through lenses,

Witnessing carnage from a distance. 

Those with eyes upon them

Must die with spectacle. 

Blood must spill

And it will be plentiful.

Vampires exist upon the earth

And they feed hungry mouths

With suffering afar,

Sustaining life by taking it away.

Cannibals sleep soundly 

In their beds, so secure.

With their bellies full, 

And their mouths wet.

Chrysalis 

I saw you there in your cocoon.  You just didn’t know it. I’ve been with you through it all. From the egg, from the first look outside the comfortable world. 

It was a strange feeling wasn’t it? Fresh eyes making their first examination of this world. Was it a good one? Was it beautiful? I imagine you were speechless. It’s a big world. Good or bad, the world is just too big to take in all at once. There’s a time to fly on top of vast mountains spanning many miles, nearly poking through space. Then there’ll be times, more than less of your waking hours, you’ll take a look at the small stuff.  Tiny rocks turned, raindrops falling from spring leaves. Worms crawled out when the summer rains fell. Thousands of feet of various creatures stomped and stepped over the fields of grass. Many, many beautiful sights from you, something that thought of itself so hideous and imperfect. Then the chrysalis formed around you. 

You minded your own business for quite awhile. Quiet. Not making a peep as to not draw attention to yourself. Pudgey from newly stuffed knowledge of the world and the gathered resources surrounding you. Everyone has their flaws, but I remember you taking what you couldn’t help into your heart in a near-harming way. I was so sad for you, but I knew this wouldn’t be permanent. Nothing is permanent. I knew, so when you stopped in your tracks one day. You found somewhere safe and began a change from within. 

I would watch from time to time to check up on you, just to make sure things were going alright. You were doing what you were meant to. So, I left you to it. 

Change is never easy, not at all, but how can anything grow if a change doesn’t occur? It’s a necessity, though I understand if it was difficult. The chrysalis is a cramped space during a terrifying time. I nearly had forgotten what it all consisted of until I found you changing. 

Dreadful, dreadful process. 

 A blanket of protection wrapped around you. No disruptions were allowed now. You had to concentrate. When the outside was nice and sturdy, you looked deep within. You weren’t in the egg anymore. No, you were in yourself with a barrade that you made of your own being. Changing. Evolving. 

First, your old shell had to go. It had to be thrown away. That husk no longer suited you.  This was a big change and you wondered if you were ready for it. What would stay the same? For a moment, you contemplated as you churned, going deeper and deeper with thought. The unknown is the greatest of fears, but you just dove right in. 

First, the skin fell clean off. Then your skeleton snapped and grinded itself into dust in the mixing pot to move with the sway of fresh flesh that would act as molding clay for what was next. You dissolved in a personal puddle of slime and bile swishing back and forth. Unpleasant, but necessary.  The body was rearranging itself for the upcoming change through bodily trauma. Hours turned to days turned into weeks. To you it was in an instant, like a sleep, like a dream. The shield began to crack open. Long trembling legs pushed upward to reveal a slimmer body than what you used to have. Your eyes were larger and were popping with color. Excess slime covered you, you knew how to rid of it, but with your new radiance there was a thought that sprouted in your head. There was one thing you do remember from the whole ordeal, wasn’t there? 

Yes, there was one thing. 

All your previous memories were still intact. Your brain was intact. Despite the metamorphosis, you were still you. In that mess of mucus, there were memories. In that hideous body that you wanted desperately to shed, there was the same brain attached to this final transformation. You’re still the same old you as you always were. The outside may change and it may weather, but nothing could change your essence. 

The difference now is that your eyes were to the sky. Aching. Wanting to go someplace bigger than what you once knew. Now you had the wings to do so. 

Curious thing wings are… The wings that you know had actually laid dormant when you were young. It sat there under the skin of your back until the change took over. They’re out in the open now. Now was the time to fly.

Your wings looked so beautiful. Larger than life. Decorated with intricate details like the paintings hung in museums, admired by millions. A work of art. You took your first flutter to rid of the residue off of your wings. The wind swirled with such fierceness and velocity. Your wings are stronger than any hurricane. Take flight, take flight, I whispered. I watched you become a gorgeous thing, something out of the most whimsical of dreams.

I wish you could’ve seen your face when you soared the skies for that very first time.

Change is the most difficult thing anyone can admit to wanting and to act upon. With comes a memory. It’s a memory that sticks with you. A good memory. A great one. 

What a dream you’ve become. Truly a glimmer of guiding light you now are. Diamonds, oceans, and stars that were wished upon couldn’t shine like you. Even now. Of all the things I’ve seen of you I only have one question to ask of you in this calming present:

“Tell me, do you wish you changed sooner?”

“The House Returns to Silence”  

If you find hands tapping 

against the floorboards,

The thin walls, 

Lay still. 

Hush.

Let the silence lay dormant alongside you.

Do not answer their beckonings. 

Leave when the house returns to silence.

They will return with friends of horrid intent.

Sneak out through the crack in the wall.

Then head to the dark, dark wood. 

It’s much safer than the light in the house 

that ignited ablaze as you left it behind. 

Then run. 

Run like the river raging.

Raging so, that you don’t notice 

the cuts on your hand 

as you were guiding yourself 

on the sharp bark of the trees.

Then you will notice the 

Fifteen glowing eyes, 

Glowing from out of the thicket.

When the wolves show their teeth,

Show them your open palm.

They will lick your wound

And taste of the fear 

Swimming within you.

They should let you leave 

when the moon lights the clearing.

A forest spirit will walk evenly at your pace, 

From five paces to the West.

Acknowledge not this one,

For this one is a restless spirit.

One that takes children 

From the arms of their parents 

Into the dead of the night.

So let this spirit remind itself 

That it is dead, and should

Let the secular realm remain unscathed.

Deserving of your attention,

It is not.

Echo will the sky 

With the cries of a ghost

Of a woman betrayed 

By her lover.

Murdered in her sleep.

Dying alone. 

Look not into her eyes, 

But place your hand 

Over her heart. 

Remind her that her heart

Remains intact,

Not broken,

So that she may move on.

Let the broken hearted 

Be allowed permission 

To heal. 

And remember for 

The rest of your life,

To tend to the hearts around you,

Most importantly 

Your own. 

Swim across the lake 

That glows with moonlight. 

The sirens will sing their song. 

They’ll open their mouths,

And show you their drowned, scorned hearts

That lie underneath the waves.

Best not listen, for the song 

Will only lead to ruin. 

Instead, sing a song of your own. 

A song made of whimsy,

A song of longing,

A song tethered to your home,

Somewhere where your heart 

Lies within its walls. 

The sirens will listen. 

Sing with conviction,

And they’ll take to shore. 

A song sung true 

Will get you where you need be. 

Back on land, 

Darkness will surround you

As the moon is nowhere to be seen. 

Listen then to the whispers of 

The voices welcoming you back home.

They want you safe 

And back in bed. 

Safe now, 

In the throes of sleep,

You hum a beautiful song.

Your heart continues to beat, 

You’ll walk at your own pace, 

You’ll allow your wounds to heal,

And find your way out of the dark.

Now you can rest easy

As the house returns to silence. 

“Holder of the Knife” 

It’s time to take a hold of the life that escaped you… 

It’s the person in front of you that stole your life right from under you. It cannot go unpunished. Unforgivable is what it is! Now is only a slight setback. That can be fixed. It is possible to continue on; quickly too. Nothing that a knife straight into their back can’t fix. 

As long as you hurry.

I know you’ve never been much to take your life into your own hands, so I thought I’d help you. I got you that knife. There! There in your hand! See how it gleams? Like a smile of that of a friend. You can trust it, as you trust me. Life will be much easier with this distraction out of your way. That’s all they’ve ever been, right? Just a dumb animal in the road that won’t get out of your way on the car ride home in the dead of night. Big eyes in the light shimmering off the blade, off the headlights. Time for them to go already. 

You can do it… allow me to guide you if you must. Much like I’ve guided you thus far. It’s all lead up to this moment. Now get rid of them. For your sake. Yes, like that…

Do not hesitate. Make it swift. One quick slash. The goal is to end their life, not allow them to suffer. So please, be merciful and make it quick! Why are you second guessing yourself? At this crucial moment?

You really want a new start?

You really want a new life?

Then go finish the old one. 

Grab a hold of the knife in your hands, 

And twist it into the holder of the knife until all becomes quiet. 

Wait momentarily, 

When the light of the blade beckons to you,

Step forward. 

That is the light that’ll lead you to your second life. 

It’ll be over soon, I promise. 

The Thing of Nightmares III: Awakening

It was all a dream,

A nightmare you realize.

“Of course it was.

Nothing but a story I told myself.”

And that’s all it ever was.

Just a scary story,

But the experience rattles 

All the same. 

The dark has peaked,

At least. 

Awakened from sleep.

A day begins anew.

“You Aren’t Alone” 

Dearest friends

Who feel alone,

To ail you on your bout

Of sadness

And loneliness…

Sit alone in your room

In your empty house

And allow the silence

To drench the atmosphere. 

Wait a moment longer.

You will find 

That you were never 

Alone

As the voices murmur 

Through the walls.

As the floorboards creak 

Just outside the door. 

With a knock at the door,

Guests wish to be welcomed. 

They mustn’t be kept waiting, 

As they persist their knocking. 

They’re close to barging in now

And they’re so excited to see you. 

You aren’t exactly alone anymore, 

Are you? 

There’s a bonus poem that didn’t make the Final Cut in the physical version. Buy it to read it. Thanks for reading, everyone! I appreciate you <3