Halloween Haunts: Storm of Madness and Scars by Jeff Oliver

Storms inspired Halloween in a sense. Like witches casting spells under a horrific storm in the middle of the night. Or a ghost only manifesting itself under stormy conditions like most horror and ghost stories specify. Maybe tortured souls only come back under a storm raging violently in the sky. Seeking revenge on those who had burned them alive so many hundreds of years ago. Hunting their accusers hoping that they will feel the pain that they felt all of those years ago.  This poem is an excert from Scattered Thoughts, Volume II

SCARS

My scars tell my story

I have quite the inventory

my failures are my glory

as I rose up from the flames

I learned my name

I erased my shame

a once shattered heart

healing in the rain

my open mind has saved me

many times from myself

it taught me how to walk quietly

through the walkways of Hell

I used to think I was a burden

to everything around

then I learned so peacefully

how to calm my soul down

I listen to the sounds

that pound in my mind

I have finally found the peace

that I needed to find

I walked through that darkness

I found myself there

the flames left marks

but I didn’t care

another scar to carry

peacefully into the night

another beautiful lesson

teaching me how to fight.

There are stories within the ink

if you pay close attention

sometimes the pain just stings

as I gaze at my reflection

I know that perfection

is a story in itself

but I’ve seen a perfect flame

when I used to burn in Hell

the colors flowed so beautifully

some exactly the same

I stared at them so intensely

trying to block out the pain

Then in a thunderous shout!

In came the cooling rain

putting out the fire

as it whispered me my name.

Scars are for a reason

carry them with pride

there should not be a story

that you should ever hide

It hurt for a reason

it hurt for a cure

it hurt so you could open

brand new doors

scream into the stars if you have to

let the world know your name

explain to them the reasons

YOU BURNED IN THOSE FLAMES!

There are stories within the ink

if you pay close attention

sometimes the pain just stings

as I gaze at my reflection.

© Jeff Oliver

From Scattered Thoughts: Volume II

Storm Of Madness

I love the sounds of thunder,

crashing in the skies.

I love the sight of lightning,

flashing within my eyes.

I love the feeling of raindrops,

racing down my skin.

I love the vicious howling,

of the unpredictable winds.

Maybe there is a power,

hidden within that storm.

Maybe it will heal this madness,

that leaves me so torn.

Maybe the storms are talking,

in a language I can understand.

Maybe there are hidden voices,

as I catch each raindrop in my hands.

I wonder if that silence,

before each storm brews.

Is trying to tell me something,

that I never knew.

I wonder if its violence is telling me,

which path to choose.

I wonder of its reasons,

the reasons in its truth.

I listen very carefully every time it storms.

I’m afraid I’m going to miss something.

I feel as I’ve been warned.

Whatever its purpose.

I always pay attention.

Maybe behind each dark cloud,

lies my own reflection.

I admire the storms perfection.

Each one is so unique.

Maybe I need its fury,

to finally find my peace.

Each storm brings me,

something I’ve never known before.

Each one contains an answer,

an answer I’ve been searching for.

Storms open my mind.

Storms open my eyes.

Storms are so beautifully relentless,

as the rain masks my cries.

You can never find a teardrop,

in a million drops of rain.

Within the thunder you can’t hear me,

screaming so insane.

The sky lights up so brightly.

You can’t see me searching for my name.

When the sky clears after each storm,

I learn something new.

Something I wasn’t supposed to know..

Each storm makes me feel reborn.

I know that it sounds crazy.

Everything I say usually does.

I believe each storm has a reason,

a reason for the flood.

The way the wind howls in my ears.

The way the thunder crashes,

for all to hear.

The way the lightning lights up my eyes.

It all has a purpose,

a purpose for us all.

I’m becoming each storm.

I’m becoming them all.

Every crash of thunder.

Every flash of light.

Every raindrop that masks my tears,

every beautiful sight.

I am not the storm.

I am a storm.

As unique as I can be.

I am no longer torn.

I keep getting the answers,

that I’ve been desperately searching for.

I love the sounds of thunder,

crashing in the skies.

I love the sight of lightning,

flashing within my eyes.

I love the feeling of raindrops,

racing down my skin.

I love the vicious howling,

of the ferocious winds.

I am evolving into the storm,

I have awakened deep within.

The blood pools beneath,

as I shed my rotting skin.