Unseen Storms

I am marked,

By something dark,

It follows me,

Wherever I go,

Making sure high points,

Are followed by lows.

 

It’s not as bad,

As the Mark Of The Beast,

Or the Wicked Witch,

Of The East,

But still it’s shades of dark,

And they leave a mark.

 

I see it daily at work,

When the old jerks,

Who are running their yappers,

Think that I don’t know,

They’re talking about beaus,

And making it out,

Like I’m some cheap hoe.

 

It’s like there’s some slight horror,

Around even the brightest corner,

Right there in front of my face,

Like an ugly tear,

In a pretty piece of lace.

 

I see it each weekend out,

At some local haunt,

It’s not too bad,

Until I overhear the taunts,

Apparently I’m ugly,

And just not normal,

Though I know it’s fact I’m more pretty,

Than most in my city.

 

It surrounds me for always,

A dark, dark haze,

Is prevalent through,

Otherwise bright rays,

And so being paranoid,

Darkens my days.

 

I see it most everywhere,

And I really try,

Not to care,

But I’m so sick,

Of all the stares,

I know tons of folks,

Who need a shove,

Down a long steep flight of stairs.

 

A speck of thundercloud,

In a seemingly spotless sky,

It seems dead set,

On making me cry,

And so presently,

Here I am,

Just trying not to die,

While I’m alive.

October Pests

Forget what you’ve heard,

About “nothing is stirring”,

There are things everywhere,

And a lot more than a mouse,

For this isn’t Christmas,

It’s Halloween,

And batshit things are everywhere,

Both seen and unseen.

 

Cute pumpkins in windows,

Are just for distraction,

Little do you know,

These things could star in a story about Booville,

Rather than Whoville.

 

Don’t dare do anything,

At six of the clock,

That’s the Devil’s Hour,

And his servants are out,

To seek and devour.

 

The well-kept graveyard behind Main,

Where granddaddy lies,

It has come alive,

With Unearthly Spies,

Known to the masses as ghosts,

They are making the decision,

Of who or what to haunt most.

 

Tread carefully,

If you’ve gone up the mountain,

For an early-season ski,

There’s ghouls behind,

Each pine tree,

Waiting to trip you up,

And bring you for,

Their contribution to,

The Halloween Creature’s Potluck.

 

It’s a season where many,

Like to make a funny,

Dressing to give friends and kids scares,

That will raise their hairs,

But there are some out there,

That don’t quite mix,

With these fun-spirited humans,

Beware of their tricks,

For if you fall prey to their bait,

You’ll have one god-awful fate.

 

On Halloween Night,

If you choose not to stay,

Indoors where you,

Have a prayer at staying safe,

I beg you to keep away,

From that corner where Sixth,

Meets up with the meadow,

Surrounded by a wall of bricks,

For it’s here that gathers,

Each Halloween,

A big bunch of cadavers,

All are unhappy to have met,

An untimely end,

And trust me when I tell you,

You don’t want to cause them,

To become any madder,

As they’ll not hesitate,

To unleash their fury,

On anyone,

Whether they’re covered in skin or are furry.

Aloha, Autumn!

I have no favorite season at all,

But right now,

My season of choice is Fall,

And here she is,

So let’s all give her welcome,

With a bow.

 

It’s been hot as hell,

So  much so,

That I was sorely tempted,

To immerse myself,

Deep inside a well,

But now Fall’s taken over,

And brought us temperatures,

Significantly lower.

 

Yes Fall,

Has finally come to call,

Bringing pumpkin treats,

And kicking out,

Summer’s heat.

 

Summer seemed a never-ending heatwave,

And we all but boiled alive,

But thank God for Fall,

It saw to it,

That we got revived.

 

Five minutes outside,

Would produce a farmer’s tan,

Most unattractive,

On any of us humans,

Thanks you Fall,

For fixing this,

Here now,

Let me blow,

You a little kiss.

 

Fall,

Is the weather’s perfect spot,

It won’t be cold,

And it won’t get hot,

There’ll be no rains,

To flood and make mud,

At the moment Fall,

Is my best bud.

 

 

 

One Halloween Night…….

A bad, bad being,

Was out hunting for a body,

The preference was,

One that was already dying,

It seems around these parts,

The sickly were pretty scarce.

 

He was running out of time,

For finding the perfect find,

Then the very next night,

In his sights,

Came two who caused him,

Great delight.

 

One a grandmother type,

And one a tri-colored flop-eared little dog,

Most of his sort,

Would just walk on by,

With a scornful snort,

But he was too relieved to gripe.

 

So,

Hiding behind a tree,

He started on his take-you-over chant,

But just as his soul,

Was about to start the dance,

That would have it infiltrate hers,

The dog stopped to pee,

And all went crazy.

 

The distance got misjudged,

And the next thing the little devil knew,

He was looking at the world,

From a four-legged view.

 

From this point on,

He resented the old woman,

He swore,

To concoct a plan,

And she would get ran,

Out of house and home.

 

Many times,

As he sat there by the lady’s side,

He passed scheme after scheme,

Through his mind,

But boy,

Lately it was tough doing magic,

Being a dog,

Was proving to be tragic,

Years and years went by,

But he was innocently outfoxed,

At every try.

 

One night,

He was in an especially rotten mood,

There had always been strange nighttime noises,

They seemingly came from inside the wall,

Being a demon,

This did not bother him,

But he decided it was getting,

High time to scout it out.

 

Using his seeing spell,

He projected his vision,

Until its strength was supernatural,

And what he saw was to him shocking,

It wasn’t the expected ghosts or goblins.

 

There was another world inside the wall,

And the fireplace was a portal,

To a land filled with mortals,

It set you down in a particularly pretty room,

In the upstairs of a mansion,

“Oh”!, thought he,

With sarcasm and glee,

“Wouldn’t it be a shame,

If I were to open this thing up,

And she just happened to fall in”?

 

But he did not get what he sought,

After he opened up the wall,

He thought for sure he could banish,

The pesky busy-body,

But she did not vanish!

She stepped back inside,

Carrying in her hands another,

And that is when his troubles multiplied.

 

Oh damn it all to hell!

This did not go well!

She was supposed to go there and get stuck,

My plan has gone amok!

 

It looks like it took too long to close the wall,

And during the stall,

She found her way back inside,

He gave a single sigh and rolled his eyes,

So much for a midnight escape,

And an all-night traipse,

There’d be no new-body search tonight,

He was still a prisoner,

And stuck forever in this self-imposed scrape.

 

**************************************************************************************

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Has a hut in the wall,

And a great swoosh of power,

Sweeps over it,

Every night,

Around the witching hour.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Spends her life,

Decorating a table-top,

Because she hasn’t got legs,

In which to hop off.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Being a little loopy,

Doesn’t even realize,

That her place is spooky.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Is so used to hearing,

Strange noises in the night,

That at first this really vital one,

Didn’t even cause her any fright.

 

One evening,

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Was sitting in front,

Of her roaring hearth,

In the oven she had baking,

A vanilla bundt,

Her knitting needles,

Were clicking and clacking,

And at her side as always,

Lay her faithful beagle.

 

At this same moment,

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was settling in,

For a cozy rest,

When her table-top unexpectedly,

Began to spin.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut’s mind,

For a time became foggy,

If you could see her,

She was clearly gone,

Though she was sitting right there,

And when she came to,

All she could do,

Was sit there,

With a blank stare.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

When her table-top stopped turning,

Couldn’t believe,

What her eyes were seeing,

The sky-blue wall,

Where the alluring artwork always hung,

It was gone,

And in its place,

Was just a hazy grey space.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Couldn’t be sure,

So she shook her head,

But by then,

They grey she still swears she saw,

Had dissipated,

And in its place,

Was not her fireplace,

But a king-sized room,

Fancy and great.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Before her very eyes,

Saw a whole world,

Where there used to be a wall,

It’s startled her so,

That she yelped in surprise.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut started,

When she heard a yelp,

Then glanced wildly around,

For whomever may have made,

The hideous sound,

But seeing no one,

She assumed that maybe,

They had hopefully,

Already departed.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

May have seemed calm and quiet,

But inside her head,

There was quite the riot,

As she slowly looked,

From side to side,

For any place,

A wall might hide.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Finally got a grip,

She carefully stood up,

So as not to trip,

Then she felt a mechanical force,

From an unknown source,

Forcing her forward,

So she took a shaky step,

Into that room,

Hoping through her brain fog,

That it would not be her doom.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was finally thinking clearly,

Just as she,

Was about to pinch herself severely,

To know for sure,

She was indeed awake,

Something grabbed her pot,

In a very tight grasp,

Then she was brought,

Into That Place Beyond The Grey Space,

And placed upon a table,

Beside a still-hot cake.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut sighed,

Well,

At least she had not died,

When she set foot,

On that Other Side,

Then she took a look around and got frantic,

“Oh no!

Where is my dog?

Please say he was not swept off,

With the fog”!?

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Could not stay quiet anymore,

And so called out to,

The grey-haired human,

Standing at,

The cupboard door.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Still unsuccessful at finding,

The missing mutt,

Now made a sound of dismay,

“Oh great”,

She muttered,

“It looks like the pretty thing,

Is alive more than,

Your normal flower,

What else could possibly,

Go awry today,

What in tarnation is causing,

The moving of,

Such awful powers”?

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Felt her temper flare,

That the little lady would dare,

Ignore her address,

Oh yes,

She thought with a smirk,

I know where the doggone dog is,

But I’ll not say,

‘Cuz this bitch is a jerk!

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Sat down and cut herself,

A big slice of cake,

Then as she began to eat,

Her plate started to shake,

She looked to her right,

And her new red plant,

Was sprouting arms and legs,

Then she looked to her left,

And spotted her beagle,

With a look on his face,

Of pure evil.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was starting to feel bad,

As her capturer,

Was looking scared and sad,

So when the woman sat down,

To have herself a little snack,

She was about to politely,

Introduce herself,

When the dog crossed his eyes,

And smacked his tail to the wall,

With a deafening whack,

Which was a spell to make the flower,

Start to feel sour.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Had now lost her appetite,

And she began to think,

That what she might need was a walk,

But before she could leave,

The flower stood up,

And started to talk.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Now felt better,

And was able to make nice,

With the little old lady,

But now how to tell her,

That her beloved pet,

Was out to get her?

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Couldn’t believe her ears,

She had had that animal,

For hundreds of years,

Though it had crossed her mind,

More than a few times,

To wonder at the fact,

That he had not aged nor died.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Here’s what she told her:

“I’ve been eyeing your dog,

Since I was brought,

Through the fog,

And let me tell you,

That’s not a dog,

He is a monster,

That needs to be,

Led to slaughter,

Or you’re gonna,

Be a goner”.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Hated to lose her pet,

But she could see it was true,

He was Evil defined,

Masquerading as,

A sweet canine,

And it was time to bid,

This one adieu.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Other than the pup’s vendetta,

Aimed at her new acquaintance,

Was relishing this new adventure,

But it was slightly boring,

So on a whim,

She decided to test,

Her new limbs.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Heard a scraping sound,

And when she turned around,

Her new friendly flower,

Was climbing downward,

She held her breath,

But the freakish thing stayed steady,

And did not fall to her death.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Laughed delightedly,

These things known as arms and legs,

Using them,

Was proving to be easy.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Then offered up a hand,

And together those two,

Went out-of-doors,

To speak in peace,

On the white-sand beach.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Picked out a small table,

Underneath a bright blue,

Flamingo-covered umbrella,

Where she spoke her condolences,

For how the beagle,

Was actually a threat,

Rather than a dear pet.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Prattled and babbled,

Of course she knew inside,

It would not be her old companion that died,

For of course he was no longer,

A dog at all,

But an evil entity,

Who had used her old pet for,

An possessable body.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was relieved,

When they had a plan in place,

Although she did feel dreadful,

At her friend’s downcast face.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Went back into her hut,

And pretending ignorance,

She beckoned the dog to follow,

While trying not to boohoo.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was ready and waiting,

With the bait,

And before they knew it,

It had sealed his fate.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

She was surprised,

At how she felt nothing,

When life left those eyes,

But as if it were part of the magic,

When the thing left,

It’s like it committed theft,

It stole her loving emotions,

And forever broke her ties,

Of devotion.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

She was relieved,

At seeing the disintegration,

Of the elderly woman’s,

Supposed companion,

But of course this meant,

The curse that had been cast,

And held her fast,

Was the dog’s last,

And going back,

To her own side of the wall,

Now may not be,

Possible at all.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Without a doubt sympathized,

Although that anyone may want,

To leave her hut,

Took her by surprise.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Soon settled in,

She learned this seaside tropic,

Was a fairy town,

Surrounded on all sides by ocean,

And soon her frown,

Permanently turned,

Upside down,

She even took a job,

At Beach Bum Burgers,

Serving the sort of treats,

She had doctored up,

For the little dog’s murder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Proverbial Angel And Devil

There is a battle between good and evil,

It’s raging in everyone’s soul,

It takes two halves,

To make any of us whole,

It goes a little like this:

“Do this,

Or I’ll get pissed”!

And,

“No! Please!

Don’t listen to that!

I smell a rat”!

 

These two whisper battles,

Day in,

And day out,

Trying to win my affections,

So I’ll follow their directions.

 

One so bad,

He should make me mad,

But when he speaks,

I hear happy squeaks,

The opposite so good,

I should maybe knock on wood,

For when he says walk,

I cheerily ask,

For guidance to his flock.

 

I’d be better off,

As a one-man show,

But in each situation,

Inside my skull,

My conscience hears two little voices,

That just won’t dull.

 

What the fuck?

Is there a way,

To shut them up?

They’ve been keeping everyone company,

Since the Dawn Of Time,

Shouldn’t they have expired by now?

I’d think they should be,

Way past their prime.

 

I picture the one having horns,

Bearing a black pitchfork,

The other wearing a white robe,

With twinkling stars,

Hanging from delicate earlobes.

 

They represent the two main things,

That drive this world,

Wicked and righteous,

And as thoughts of both,

Course through all our minds,

It would seem we are all one part sinister,

And another part divine.

 

Does either one,

Ever win?

Can one being be,

One hundred percent,

Just goodness or sin?

I’d say no one is perfect,

We’re really each a mix,

Of halos and that creepy,

Six-six-six.

 

 

 

We Frustrate Me

Nothing but distaste,

For the human race,

When further I think on it,

The more the hate,

Picks up the pace.

 

They strive to thrive,

Headfirst they dive,

Into normalcy,

Also known as crazy,

And what a waste,

It’s not as though,

They’re leaving alive.

 

Flitting about here and there,

And most don’t care,

About a thing,

Unless it’s theirs,

And even then,

It’s hard for some,

Not to act like scum.

 

The other day,

I was at the store,

Everyone was there,

Rich and poor,

Saints and whores,

As well as everything between,

After looking high,

And looking low,

They all had,

One thing in common though,

They all needed something,

Their money couldn’t buy.

 

I’m sick of dealing,

With them and their issues,

There’s the alcoholics,

And there’s the apostolics,

Some are even diabolical,

I wonder,

When the fuck,

Did this psycho mix,

Become typical?

 

Let me tell you,

The whole lot is fuct,

If they keep waiting around,

For a run of good luck,

We each make or break our own fortune,

No one is immune,

Now quit looking so god-damn forlorn,

And go grab a new life,

By the horns.

 

Are you wondering when,

I’ll make my point?

There isn’t one,

Yet this wasn’t written,

Just for the fun.

 

 

 

LOL @ “Love”

*************************

I wish you well,

My fellow ladies,

And may you forever steer clear,

Of the ones who are crazy.

*************************

 

It does not exist,

At least,

Not in the genre,

For which we all hope and pray.

 

It’s fictional,

And I am not being stereotypical,

But it’s simple fact,

It exists abundantly in other forms,

But that one,

Produces toxic storms in swarms.

 

I wonder why this is so?

Why we let bliss turn into,

Row after row?

I’d almost rather,

Never have had it at all,

Than go through,

The predestined fall.

 

*************************

 

First you think you’ve found it,

Seems to you,

You’ve found a perfect fit,

Then the storms start to brew,

And someone changes their view,

Before you know it,

You’re back to just you.

 

Now here you are,

Should you try again?

Yes,

You’ve decided,

But the sweet wears off,

And again one takes off,

Like a shot.

 

*************************

 

It’s a joke,

A waste of time,

And that’s the commodity most precious,

So why do we waste it,

On something fictitious?

 

I’ve made a list,

Weighed pros and cons,

Seems the emotional investment,

Is not even close to worth it,

The most you can hope for,

Is staying a tad bit detached,

So when the time comes,

You can walk out the door,

Without being dragged down,

Left to live depressed and sore.

 

*************************

 

I see your smirk,

But you will see,

It will not work,

He will turn face,

And be a mighty jerk,

Once again,

You’ll need to begin anew,

Because of what,

He’ll put you through.