Tag: demons

Fighting Demons

We all know them,

some a first name salutation,

waiting under our bed,

hiding in closets,

appearing as a shadow in the middle of the night.

Ever see a moment

when the flash of an eye

we wonder,

did that or is it

what is my imagination

if not

a real experience I can tell you about.

Or is it,

that conspiracy to make everything we believe,

seem sort of an outstretched hand,

waiting upon us to grasp

the reality of our own disdain.

Easy to call them demons,

those moments we disagree.

© ThomAmundsen. 11/2021

The Monster

He walked alongside,


hoping to be noticed

in order to quell

such is the pain inside

of an insecure mind.


Started as a child,

one day he lost all hope

in the manifest of

life over death,

or the cruel hand of God

in what we call a miracle,

yet absurd,

inside the fear

is simple departure

of the one we love.


That internal flame,

became ignited

virtue of a confusion,

the wonder of why,

the angry response

to losing someone we love

at the hands of innocence,

where that person,

that wonderful being,

is cut short.


A woman recently,

suggested I take the knife out of my back,

its is a long line to


why we carry the demons we do,

when in reality,

if we could just live our lives,

we might


a certain peace,

the one we see

in the eyes of those

we may never know.

© Thom Amundsen 3/2020

Faces On Demons

Oh the (dark) places we go,

if only Dr. Seuss could remedy all,

perhaps the quiet abyss might no longer,

contain the strength,

the grasp sometimes

inherent in my every step,

the outlook of my day.


I sometimes wonder the strength of my addictions,

are the reason I move slowly,

perhaps in reason the justification

of lost principle,

allows me to wallow in my

sad and lonely way.


I’ve made mistakes,

they are plain to see,

unless you wouldn’t know me,

then maybe,

I could walk around in circles,


a bit more mistake free.


It is an inherent trait in our society,

to judge the person on your left and right,

in order some would argue,

to set your own demons free,

or am I only speaking of me.


I sometimes reflect on a world

of alcohol and drugs,

oh the sweet nectar

of setting myself apart

from every

symbol I felt of hope and faith.


The gambling arm,

set in tone the rest of me,

and for the little time I’d known,

I would seek refuge there,

only to come to terms,

with another bottle of scotch,

with an endless pour.


There is something remarkably beautiful

about peace,

peace of mind,

a peace to build our hopes upon.

finding peace,

inside the miracle of time.


I look to find all the faces,

that disturb my sleep,

in the middle of the night,

left staring at a wall,

rather safe than closing my eyes,

to once again,


in the middle of a dream,

would there be an onslaught …

faces on demons.


We might suppose,

they’ll always be there,

quiet reminders,

like skeletons with favorite postures,

we liken them all,

to our own sheltered storm,

inside an expression at the county fair,

won’t allow a soul,

to imagine any other pain,



Occasionally when walking alone,

I do,

I choose with earnest,

to put my own,

face on demons,

I suppose it may appear absurd,

but rather than in a crowd,

I can own my own expression,

no longer under a shroud.

That Disconnect Scream

© Elena Levon Photography
© Elena Levon Photography

Feel it,

the moment when it occurs,

can’t quite speak to it,

but you know its there,

won’t be until later,

when breathing becomes easier,

that we can begin to process,

just why that happened,

what caused me to look you in the eye,

and fail to say ‘I love you’

what is it that gets in the way

won’t let me knock down the wall,

the invisible glass

separates what I really feel from what I want to say.

Feel it,

when it occurs,

the disconnect is there,

no matter how loud I scream inside,

not a word, no utterance,

my eyes are even locked tight to protect my soul.

I wish I could,

let my internal demons be released,

certainly not to harm,


to allow that goodness to always remain.

Find it,


Transparent Demons (prose)


Used to be I was afraid to write anything at all for fear of revealing my internal demons. Then I might pick up an author, like Stephen King, and read his words voraciously being quite fascinated with his ability to step outside of himself and write such frightening prose. Then I would ask myself, is he really stepping outside? Ooh, even scarier really. Just imagine what is in the minds of everyone around us. We haven’t any idea unless we are their therapist and hearing their exploits for a couple of hundred dollars an hour in a session that sometimes doesn’t really matter at all. Just sharing ideas really.

That’s when I began to realize that everyone is capable of thinking, believing and behaving in the same manner. Some just choose not to. Some decide they have better things to preoccupy themselves with. Others continue to dwell on their silent mystique, and fear the look of eye contact with someone close because those soul driven eyes might bring their demons to the surface. And no one, really quite frankly, no one likes to be the purveyor of a downer.

I’ve been reading a lot of blogs recently and exploring the lives of those people around me. They’re not standing next to me, but they do stand next to you and everyone they encounter on a consistent basis as they try their hand at surviving in whatever the society it is that defines their mores, values, integrity at this juncture of their lives. I wonder about that. I wonder if they all stand next to each other taking caution to one another until, and do the moments that bring people together – that love and romance thing, that compelling animalistic drive that sends people into delicious throes of sensual release – really measure up to their own personal ideals, or is that just a temporary satisfaction ( The Rolling Stones ‘Satisfaction’ playing in my ear buds ) the human condition relies upon to help us feel right about our lives?

There is this love thing we always talk about. We (I) spend hours in our writing trying to define what love is all about. We (I) explore the tenets of marriage. We (I) fight for control to decide who can really recognize ‘love’ and who ought to be denied that value in their own lives. I live in a society of hypocrisy that won’t allow us to give credence to the simple reality of our lives as needy human beings that sharing our physicality with one another helps us to get along, to feel better, to understand the essence of why we exist at all today. Some want to call that sex. Is that the interfering dialogue? God help us if we stumble upon reasons why our unity and shared devotion are ill-met pursuits due to overbearing stimuli of religiosity. Oh my, I went there, I better end soon.

Well, maybe I’m just getting started with my journey … (to be continued)

Practice Reflection

Need inspiration

Some method to find words

To describe one’s love

I want to travel along a time line


To experience the seasons


The august of turning leaves

Bitter cold arctic mornings

Fresh blossoms erupting in damp soils

Lovers experienced, play in hot humid skies


To understanding the spirit of life


I was a child when I knew love

Meant only smiles and guarded songs

Watching adults play their roles

While we began to slowly understand


To realizations and calming skies


One day while speaking with a dear relative

Recognizing the human exists in everyone

No matter the strife, the surreal mindset

Speaks to a weeping being’s realization


To reflections in windswept snowstorm


I remember that early afternoon the snow

Clinging to treetops while we said goodbye

And everyone together wanted to cry alone

Yet we held one another’s hands in reflection


To human nature and unconditional love


For that is our goal in life is to really know love

Not simply a sensuality that leaves unbridled haste

Yet, to understand how our humanity thrives

Upon His love, the grace of simple human nature


For while we shallow spend our lives answering our demons

The angels very well cling soft to our shadows holding peace