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Nicklin’s Torment

I woke up in a cold sweat
and turned on the light.
A shadow was moving over me,
cast by a spider of the night.

By the time I’d blinked
it’d vanished from view,
but then I saw a larger one,
followed by another two.

I closed my eyes for a moment
hoping they would disappear.
When I slowly reopened them
the bedroom was spider clear.

With my hand I mopped my brow
and then saw several more,
they were crawling on the ceiling
and marching across the floor.

I told myself that I was dreaming
or suffering from withdrawal,
but that didn’t stop the spiders
from crawling up the wall.

Sweat dripping from my brow
was stinging in my eyes.
Spiders were now on my bed
at my feet and on my thighs.

The whole room was full of spiders,
on the ceiling, walls, and floor.
My bed was covered and so was I.
I screamed stop! But out came even more.

Spiders crawling on top of spiders,
in my mouth, nose and ears,
their scary eyes staring into mine,
I was choking with utter fear.

I tried in vain to fight them off,
but my hand didn’t move a one.
I must have blacked out just then,
when I awoke they had all gone.

Things are becoming better now
and the spiders are getting less.
I’m told they’ll eventually go for good,
along with my shakes, thirst, and mess.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spiders In The Night

Spiders in the night
Creeping round the walls
Now you'll feel him
Crawling over you

Creepy crawly things
Filling up your bed
Soon you'll feel him
Crawling through your brains

You think he's there
Beware his bite
But when you look
The spider's not in sight

Spiders reappear
Taking peoples names
Everything is taken down insane

There's no way out
And there's no key
But here's a clue
The spider's really me

You're written in his book
The spider won't forget
You won't forget
The spiders in the night

The end is going night
Itsy witsy friends
The spiders disappearing from the night

You think he's gone
You think he's dead
There's no escape
The spiders in your head

All the spiders in the night
All the spiders in the night
All the spiders in the night

song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne from Bark At The Moon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0232 That spider

I'm still waiting for an answer:
does that spider on the hedge
just do what spiders do;
or does (he, she, it) think?

Is it just a robot, programmed
by a pretty skilful God?
In which case you could say
God does its thinking for it
which is surely even more impressive
considering the number of spiders
and other species. Like us.

So where does that leave us?

On our knees
with a lot more questions.

And don't tell me it's evolution -
who made the laws of evolution, then?

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ghost Behind My Eyes

There is person living in my head
She comes to visit every night in bed
I fight the demon, but it just wont fall
The voices in my dungeon starting to call
The spiders dancing on the wall
Suicide of love we could have had it all
And it is you, you are the ghost behind my eyes
The ghost that tells me lies
The princess of the dark has made my mind home
My haunted head and her wont leave me alone
She dances on my heart with fire in my soul
I hate that feeling when Im loosing control
The spiders dancing on the wall
Suicide of love we could have had it all
And it is you, you are the ghost behind my eyes
The ghost that tells me lies
I wish to God that I could sleep
Again, oh peace again
And wake up from this nightmare
Free again
Free again, oh me again
There is a woman in my head
She comes to visit every night in bed
The spiders dancing on the wall
Suicide of love we could have had it all
And it is you, you are the ghost behind my eyes
You, you are the ghost behind my eyes
You, you are the ghost behind my eyes
Behind my eyes
The ghost behind my eyes

song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's A Spider In My Room!

I’ve just spotted a spider in my bedroom.
Around the walls, he’s decided to zoom!
My eyes are now glued to the wall;
Not that I’m the least bit worried at all!

Oh no! Now he’s crawling on the ceiling,
And I’m getting a slightly anxious feeling.
He’s now hanging around over my bed:
Just above where I usually lay my head!

I’m sitting, watching him crawling around,
Praying that he doesn’t fall to the ground.
I dare not now switch off the light,
As, of him, I’ll suddenly lose all sight.

Why couldn’t he have stuck to the wall,
Where he would have been less likely to fall?
He’s running around as fast as he can.
Of any size spider, I’m not a great fan.

Unfortunately, at this time of year,
Outside, there are greater things to fear.
If I capture him now and throw him out,
I’ll get a crane fly in return, without a doubt.

A smallish spider, I can just about bear,
But, for crane flies, I really do not care!
I guess, a spider is the lesser evil of the two,
As they can’t fly at you, like crane flies do!

If it’s dark, maybe he, to, will go to sleep,
Or round the room, he may continue to creep.
So, maybe I’ll turn out the light and be brave,
And just hope the spider doesn’t misbehave!

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No spiders in the city

There was once a girl that had a scream,
Which was unbelievably extreme,
She caused many neighbours to blaspheme,
For when she'd see a spider she'd scream,
By chance she heard something a bird said,
It claimed that it had been underfed,
For it lived where spiders rarely tread,
The girl believed the words that were said,
She upped sticks and moved to the city,
Which left her neighbours far from teary,
Although she found urban life gritty,
She endured the days that were dreary,
For what she had heard proved to be true,
Which led to her screams being subdued,
But there were things that were not in view,
When she saw them she altered her mood,
She'd come to learn somethings were untrue,
Things such as hard work will see you through,
However if only but a few,
Certain childish beliefs turned out true,
Monsters do live underneath the bed,
The horrid creatures filled her with dread,
She felt with spiders she'd been misled,
The true horrors were under her bed,
It became too much for her to bear,
She hated the creatures living there,
They led her to a state of despair,
So she thought she'd go and live elsewhere,
She moved back home to the countryside,
Her neighbours of course did not abide,
But they need not have heavily sighed,
The girl didn't fear spiders when spied.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Never Empty

Do you ever muse what houses do
while you're at work, the kids at school,
how the traffic roars as it rolls on by
and the telephone rings with no reply.
The refrigerator sings its refrigerator tune
and the gas man calls in the afternoon.
How rain pours through that hole in the roof
and the ants infest all the children's shoes.
Have you ever thought on that dear folk,
when you're out all day and the front door's locked.
When the spiders dance and crickets chirp
with their clod hopper feet on the skirting boards,
making merriment while you're away,
assuming the house is empty all day.
Have you ever looked under old floor boards
where the mice all run when the cat's at play
and the spiders return at the break of day.
Only the house knows what goes on,
only its walls see the spiders run
and the crickets dance and the mice at play,
only the house when you're all away
except for the clock on the kitchen wall
with its heart ever beating the time of day.

poem by Ruth Walters
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News From Hank

Have recieved disturbing letter
From Hank
As follows:

Dear All
Misfortune has struck
Terrible blow

Fell asleep on container lorry
I am in Hamburg
German spiders not friendly to Brits
I fear racism is rife here
Have tried to blend in
But it’s hard to march with eight legs

Met a Frenchy in the Reeperbahn
Helps out in a transvestite bar
Only safe place he said
Whore’s and spiders
They don’t care
If you march or scuttle
Sooner or later the degradation has you
Dragging yourself around
On your knees
Hard for a spider

I shouldn’t end like this
Have tried to leave
But German drivers are hot on stow aways

I pointed out I’m only a spider
They snorted
Spiders, Albanians
They’ve all got the same sorry story
Bottom line
The Euro is the Euro to Germans

Please send fare
If not send cyanide tablet
They’ll get me soon
Here, they have no apathy towards foreigners
And I fear I’d crack under pressure
Or Jack boots

Love Hank

We’ve sent the fare of course.

poem by Nicolette Turner
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Spiders

Is the spider a monster in miniature?
His web is a cruel stair, to be sure,
Designed artfully, cunningly placed,
A delicate trap, carefully spun
To bind the fly (innocent or unaware)
In a net as strong as a chain or a gun.

There are far more spiders than the man in the street
supposes
And the philosopher-king imagines, let alone knows!
There are six hundred kinds of spiders and each one
Differs in kind and in unkindness.
In variety of behavior spiders are unrivalled:
The fat garden spider sits motionless, amidst or at the heart
Of the orb of its web: other kinds run,
Scuttling across the floor, falling into bathtubs,
Trapped in the path of its own wrath, by overconfidence
drowned and undone.

Other kinds - more and more kinds under the stars and
the sun -
Are carnivores: all are relentless, ruthless
Enemies of insects. Their methods of getting food
Are unconventional, numerous, various and sometimes
hilarious:
Some spiders spin webs as beautiful
As Japanese drawings, intricate as clocks, strong as rocks:
Others construct traps which consist only
Of two sticky and tricky threads. Yet this ambush is enough
To bind and chain a crawling ant for long
enough:
The famished spider feels the vibration
Which transforms patience into sensation and satiation.
The handsome wolf spider moves suddenly freely and relies
Upon lightning suddenness, stealth and surprise,
Possessing accurate eyes, pouncing upon his victim with the
speed of surmise.

Courtship is dangerous: there are just as many elaborate
and endless techniques and varieties
As characterize the wooing of more analytic, more
introspective beings: Sometimes the male
Arrives with the gift of a freshly caught fly.
Sometimes he ties down the female, when she is frail,
With deft strokes and quick maneuvres and threads of silk:
But courtship and wooing, whatever their form, are
informed
By extreme caution, prudence, and calculation,
For the female spider, lazier and fiercer than the male
suitor,
May make a meal of him if she does not feel in the same
mood, or if her appetite
Consumes her far more than the revelation of love's
consummation.
Here among spiders, as in the higher forms of nature,
The male runs a terrifying risk when he goes seeking for
the bounty of beautiful Alma Magna Mater:
Yet clearly and truly he must seek and find his mate and
match like every other living creature!

poem by Delmore Schwartz
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0074 Spider spider...

Do spiders do what spiders do
with no alternative?

Or can they wake up one fine day
And think 'today I'll LIVE!

'I'll take the morning off today -
no repair work - (miss my lunch...) :

'then move my website far away
from that poetic bunch...'

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Whatever

WHATEVER YOU,
WHATEVER I,
WHATEVER DREAM,
WHATEVER SONG,
WHATEVER HEALS, WHATEVER FEELS RIGHT.
WHATEVER UP,
WHATEVER DOWN,
WHATEVER GOD,
WHATEVER FIX,
WHATEVER NEED, WHATEVER I WANT.
AND ALL THE SPIDERS IN MY MIND,
ALL THE THINGS WE NEVER SAID.
MAYBE THE LAST DAY OF MY LIFE
WHEN I LOOK AT THE WORLD
THROUGH THE BLUE OF YOUR EYES.
WHATEVER PEACE,
WHATEVER WAR,
WHATEVER DOOR,
WHATEVER KISS,
WHATEVER HAPPENS WE ARE THE SPACEMAN.
(AND ALL THE SPIDERS IN MY MIND,
ALL THE THINGS WE NEVER SAID.
MAYBE THE LAST DAY OF MY LIFE
WHEN I LOOK AT THE WORLD
THROUGH THE BLUE OF YOUR EYES, (2x's)
THROUGH THE HOLE IN YOUR HEART. (1x))

song performed by by Zoe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Spiders Crawling

night spiders
crawling
crawling through

mind
encased
in black

satin
webs
deep

sleep
tra pped
drained

tread encased
in raw exhaustion
stung spun webs

poem by Terence George Craddock
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To An Ex....

what we told them that we did
was all those games of catching spiders
rested in their spun webs on the trees
beside the mountain river

we we really did they knew so well
but how can we ever ever tell?

that what they knew was not all that happened
as it was something else more that what spiders are
on their transparent
webs of illusions upon those trees
that in the first place
never existed

what we had were more than words
and thoughts
and so how can we ever tell ourselves
truly
that we have already forgotten?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spiders

We couldn't bear to stand
How the people leave us waiting
For something up there
Oh, why did you leave?
Why won't you come?
And save us again?
Come back to us spiders
Come uncrushed my hand
Let me sent beauty rain
And bring us love again, like you can
We just didn't know
Some one there outside of heaven
Heard us down here
We couldn't stand it here
Other people leave us longing
For something up there
Oh, why did you leave?
Why won't you come?
And save us again?
Come back to us spiders
Come uncross my hand
Let me sent beauty rain
And bring us love again, like you can
[2x]
So much time, we need to ask everything
How did it go, you need it I got it
Come back to us spiders
Come uncross my hand
Let me sent beauty rain
And bring us love again, like you can
[2x]

song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spider

Spider crawling, on the wall
I see him and he, sees it all...
And he sees it all
I fell down in that lazy place,
Where the english language cant - penetrate and i
Saw your mouth moving - just forget it and lie here with me
Maybe we should just, climb under the sheets
Where the words they dont get in the way
We were wondering, if you recall
Is this the end of it - end of everything
We were wondering, wonder
Spider crawling - in my left ear
Has a message I - want you to hear
Hope youre happy - found what youre looking for
Do you miss me, miss me at all?
Spider tells me, saw you yesterday
With somebody new - what can I say?
What can i...
Spider crawling, I crawl with him -
We go everywhere, we see everything
We are falling, we are falling, falling to nowhere
Hope youre happy - found what youre looking for
Do you miss me, miss me at all?
Spider crawling, spider crawling, spider crawling...

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summers Garden Sanctuary...

..., Summers Garden Sanctuary...

The sun’s rays pierce thru the bathroom window
Mirrored reflections spill sunshine into the white bath,
A vast unescapable dry canyon to the two tiny baby spiders
Trapped in their quest for water having travelled from the heat
Of the inner roof via the ceiling fan grid,
The hot Australian sun prepares to cook the day a gentle hazy brown.
I Take a white tissue and moisten a corner with my tongue and place
It over the two tiny spiders, who are held for a moment,
I gently fold the tissue trapping my quarry.
I quickly take them out to the garden and place them with the flowers,
A flick to the tissue and the spiders are gone safe and sound
Two little lives saved today,
It’s funny a feel good syndrome fills my body.

NB A Gem of a Quote
'Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty.'- Anne Herbert

poem by Ken e Hall
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Iron And Silk

Iron keeps dirty habits when united,
Followers of the metal shall be rewarded;
The contestant proves his worth,
After the judges and the judgement,
Before this nothing has a present.
Anarchy is housed by the intellectuals,
Intelligently the rules are spoken
And their moods are represented
By the organizations of the spiders.

Crawling about, sneaking towards
Their goal, and lifting their webs,
A reality has emerged of mounting
Pressure, often the windows are open.
Thoughts of the evening weave
Their ways towards the horizon,
But spiders wrongly imagine our
Difficulties.

Their iron is their silk, and we have strong
Iron, that wields not being spun,
Forever the roses have been in our wreaths,
And eternally the spots on the face
Are ignited.

poem by Naveed Akram
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What We Should Have Forgotten

there is a spider
in the vortex of
my mind

it dwells there
and every
day and every night
it is weaving

from its mouth
its food
its choice of words
a house
of poems

a kingdom
of images
where i shall live
where you shall
read
where you can become
another
figment of
some imaginations

there is another spider
in the vortex of your
mind
that weaves that hunger
that thirst
that longing
that feeling of imperfection

its moving
like a pendulum
it is revolving like a planet
to an eternal
circumlocution

these are the spiders in our
minds
that make us
all
human
always missing something
always remembering
what we should have forgotten.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Malade

The sick grapes on the chair by the bed lie prone; at the window
The tassel of the blind swings gently, tapping the pane,
As a little wind comes in.
The room is the hollow rind of a fruit, a gourd
Scooped out and dry, where a spider,
Folded in its legs as in a bed,
Lies on the dust, watching where is nothing to see but twilight and walls.

And if the day outside were mine! What is the day
But a grey cave, with great grey spider-cloths hanging
Low from the roof, and the wet dust falling softly from them
Over the wet dark rocks, the houses, and over
The spiders with white faces, that scuttle on the floor of the cave!
I am choking with creeping, grey confinedness.

But somewhere birds, beside a lake of light, spread wings
Larger than the largest fans, and rise in a stream upwards
And upwards on the sunlight that rains invisible,
So that the birds are like one wafted feather,
Small and ecstatic suspended over a vast spread country.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Flying Spiders

Shhhh. Can you hear it?

Spinning all around us
Regaling and astounding thus
With acts of human kindness
That equally malign us
Stare into a spider's web
Captured in the neural ebb
A milky way of silken thread
With lines throughout the kingdom spread

Wait for the wedding day
Descend from the mountain tops
On silver strands of wire
Fly the spiders in the wind

You'll come running for them
You'll come running far and wide
You'll come running for them
You'll come running for a woven
Glimpse of what you are inside

Gave up when the dogma died
An act of faith personified
The spider binds the groom and bride
Their isolation nullified
Dangling from the usher's nose
The mother in law, her fancy clothes
The orchestra in puppet rows
The notes spun from viola bows

Oh, my sense of wonder
Nearly fills this body cage
A web of flesh and fibre
And a timeless sense of age

Wait for the wedding day
Descend from the mountain tops
On silver strands of wire
Fly the spiders in the wind

Open up your eyes and then
You will see what defines us when
Spinning all around us
Regaling and astounding thus
Captured in the neural ebb
And strangled in the spider's web.

poem by Steven Webster
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Ziggy stardust and the spiders from mars (Lyrics)

Ziggy played guitar, jamming good with Weird and Gilly,
and the spiders from Mars. He played it left hand
But made it too far
Became the special man, then we were Ziggy's band

now Ziggy really sang, screwed up eyes and screwed down hairdo
Like some cat from Japan, aww he could lick 'em by smiling
He could leave 'em to hang
'came on so loaded man, well hung and snow white tan.

So where were the spiders, while the fly tried to break our balls
With just the beer light to guide us,
So we bitched about his fans and should we crush his sweet hands?

Ziggy played for time, jiving us that we were voodoo
The kid was just crass, he was the nazz
With God given ass
aww He took it all too far but boy could he play guitar

Making love with his ego Ziggy sucked up into his mind
Like a leper messiah
When the kids had killed the man I had to break up the band.

Ziggy played Guitar.

poem by Satan's Sibling
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