Beneath the hum

 

Beneath the hum,

behind that background grind.

If you listen closely, you may find

the sound of the night,

running rampant

through your mind.

 

It's contagious,

infectious, it gets inside,

makes you want to hide.

It grinds you down,

then pushes your senses aside.

Those sounds of the night,

they make an old man

feel like a child frozen in fright.

 

Underneath the hum, the discord,

the screeching ones,

In the darkness the demons come.

The intense sound of drumming feet.

You can hear it sometimes,

the distant thrum.

When the wind is a whisper

in delicate ears.

When it is quiet, and the hum has dulled

then the true sounds of horror come near.

The whelping cursed sounds

like nails down a chalkboard.

Not from one direction, but from all around.

 

If you listen, tune out the ordinary noise,

go deeper into the sea of sounds.

You'll hear, faintly at first,

you'll hear a sound almost like a gun burst.

The march of the dead.

The squelching feet through the soggy gloom,

the mud coated feet that spell your doom.

These sounds of the night

The terror filled groans.

The screams

and their haunted moans.

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love and Poetry 

Kyle