room with a view

I installed a Doorbell Camera. All I do is watch the Feed,
waiting for someone, literally anyone, to star in the show!
Not even a Mail Carrier paid me a visit the entire week.
Wish I needed a Delivery. My last was the Camera, so…

This isn't quite as interesting as I keenly anticipated.
Where are annoying strangers who knock at my door?
It's worse than pressing the bell fifty-seven times…
Come back and try again! Please pound a little more!

The silence is unnerving, like a Teapot that won't whistle.
Languishing in suspense, expecting a different result —
I think the cosmic cat upstairs is trying to drive me mad.
I'm afraid to look away. I could miss a Religious Cult.

The sidewalk has been empty, street devoid of motion.
Not sure this thing is really on, or actually recording.
Why must everyone ignore me? It's making me upset.
A van just parked; passengers appear to be unboarding.

I wonder where they're going. Oh my, it could be here.
A crowd of wretched figures started staring at my house.
What if they ring the bell? I haven't thought that far.
I'll act like I'm not home, pretend I'm just a mouse.

Nobody's safe these days, from scrutiny or scams.
Could be the work of A.I. — and itinerant Hackers.
A modern plague, spreading Viruses door-to-door.
I read they can copy us, gangs of Digital Hijackers.

Can't resist a peephole check. The faces are peculiar,
a pack of snide expressions on exaggerated masks…
a vicious circle occupying the fish-eye of my purview,
forcing me to spectate, ignore more sensible tasks.

Unable to turn aside; they're obviously out to get me!
Ding-donging, sing-songing in voices grown hoarse,
haunting my head, their dreadful taunts and chants,
amid the bell chiming. Throats growlishly coarse.

An unsettling Audio Feed. A distressing undertone
of shifty creaks and crackles, scrapes and spinal taps.
I fear for the shuddering barrier of wood as I retreat.
Booming blows reverberate — cacophonous raps!

The monitor's blocked by bodies, a diabolic throng.
Blurred aspects duck and loom. Plastic visages leer.
Can't tear my gaze from macabre sneering Clowns;
a door-ringing Carnival of menace and grim cheer.

I should've bought a phone instead of this device
that I hoped would prove both useful and amusing,
with no friends to call, nor a single reason to search,
yet I find my circumstances outlandishly confusing.

I don't wish to watch a mob of horribly thin creeps
who obstruct a false window I've begun to abhor.
The dratted Camera Lens has provided little joy —
but a herd of grinning ghouls, battering my door.

If only I had a Landline to summon the Authorities
before these gate-crashers hook me to a Pacemaker.
I'd welcome a long-winded visit by an Exorcist;
a Wireless Provider; Process Server, Census-Taker.

Isolated from the world, I resent my own company.
Why aren't the neighbors glimpsing my attackers?
Maybe we're all just hiding, abiding our doorbells.
The maniacs broke in, a band of Unsafe Crackers!

Sorry, there's nothing to steal except this camera,
and the cursed hunk of junk can't be worth much.
In lieu of a room with a view, I need a new door,
and would prefer to go back to being out of touch.

Lori R. Lopez is a peculiar author, poet, illustrator, and wearer of hats. Verse and stories have appeared in a variety of magazines and anthologies including The Sirens Call, Spectral Realms, Weirdbook, The Horror Zine, Space & Time, HWA Poetry Showcases, JOURN-E, Impspired, Aphelion, Altered Reality, Dead Harvest, and California Screamin' (Foreword Poem). Books include The Dark Mister Snark, Leery Lane, An Ill Wind Blows, The Witchhunt, The Fairy Fly, and Darkverse: The Shadow Hours (nominated for an Elgin Award). Some of Lori's poems have been nominated for Rhysling Awards. You can learn more about her at the website shared with two talented sons: https://www.fairyflyentertainment.com

Find more by Lori R. Lopez in the Author Index.