TRAPPED IN HELL

lilipilyspirit Deactivated

Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925

The forest grows dark.

It comes alive.

Wood arms reach for me.

Roots uncurl from the ground.

Trees shake and dance.

As the wind moans.

Dark shadows follow me.

Moonlight teases me.

I’m trapped in hell,

where the sun doesn’t shine.

THE DEAD GAME SERIES

MOTHER EARTH

Source:eyesdesires

Red is the grass beneath me.

Dry is the air I must breathe.

Roots spiral from my battered core.

The earth will shelter and protect me.

I will flourish in this forsaken place.

RED

eyesdesires

Red is the grass beneath me.

Dry is the air I must breathe.

Roots spiral from my battered core.

The earth will shelter and protect me.

I will flourish in this forsaken place.

THE TREE

THE TREE

The tree appears dark and looming.

It could use some proper grooming.

I want to take a walk between its legs,

Growing tall from the ground like giant pegs.

By its rules, we must strictly abide.

Imagine the secrets it must hide.

Come walk with me in its deep shade.

Through the fallen leaves we will wade.

A canopy of leaves above our heads

As we fall asleep in our leafy beds.

TRAPPED IN HELL

lilipilyspirit

Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925

The forest grows dark.

It has come alive.

Wooden arms reach for me.

Roots uncurl from the ground.

Trees shake and dance

to the moans of the wind.

Dark shadows follow me.

Moonlight teases me.

I’m trapped in hell,

where the sun doesn’t shine.

THE DEAD GAME

QUICKSAND

canvaslifestyle

Fortune – 48″x36″x1.5″ Acrylic on Canvas

Let’s travel through the forest so green.

A creature-filled oasis but don’t scream.

The roots tangle around our feet.

Walking becomes a scary feat.

Neon leaves hit our faces.

A hit every few paces.

I’m sinking deep into the forest floor.

Quicksand my enemy forever more.

IT’S ALIVE

Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925

The forest grows dark.

It has come alive.

Wooden arms reach for me.

Roots uncurl from the ground.

Trees shake and dance

to the moans of the wind.

Dark shadows follow me.

Moonlight teases me.

I’m trapped in hell,

where the sun doesn’t shine.

THE DEAD GAME

ALIVE

lilipilyspirit

Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925 

The forest grows dark.

It has come alive.

Wooden arms reach for me.

Roots uncurl from the ground.

Trees shake and dance

to the moans of the wind.

Dark shadows follow me.

Moonlight teases me.

I’m trapped in hell,

where the sun doesn’t shine.

THE DEAD GAME

 

PARADISE LOST

Source:sandylamu

Trees fill the conservatory.

Wolf leads us inside.

A domed paradise of greenery.

We follow him through bushes

that move to a music all their own.

Humid air coats our skin.

The ground shivers beneath our feet.

The trees lift up their massive roots.

Scraggly arms reach for us.

Time to leave this artificial paradise.

THE DEAD GAME

A NIGHTMARE BECOMES HELL

Source:vwcampervan-aldridge

Lost in a field of daisies.

Falling between the stalks.

Covered by their leaves.

Pulled down by their roots.

Darkness succumbs me.

Dirt envelopes me.

Illusion becomes reality.

A nightmare becomes hell.

No way out for me.

Only daisies and more daisies.

THE DEAD love their games.

THE DEAD GAME

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP  

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

THE DEAD LIKE THEIR GAMES

Source:sandylamu

Trees and bushes fill the conservatory.

Wolf wants to show us what’s hidden inside.

Linda follows him into the bushes.

Her scream curdles my blood.

We run to her to find cages of snakes.

Their tongues slipping in and out of the holes.

Hungry for their next meal.

The trees draw closer to our group.

Lifting up their massive roots to take chase.

Time to leave this sorry example of the macabre.

The Dead like their games a little too much for comfort.

THE DEAD GAME

THE BEGINNING

Source:neverneedtomeetnokings

The beginning of an idea

takes root in your mind.

It grows up from the dirt,

reaching out to the unknown.

It grows in size and depth,

and sprouts forth with ideas.

Nurture its buds.

Savor in its fruits.

Delight in its flowers.

Let it grow to full height.

LIFE

1. 
   

   

   pachipachiworld:
   

   
   

   LIFE
   
   Life has depth.
   It has roots.
   Extending far,
   Above and below.
   
   We are mere cogs
   In its vast display.
   Only players
   In its mighty game.
   
   Forever yearning
   To gain control.
   But never allowed
   In the front seat.