Reality

Here in the real world,

It’s too busy for Christmas,

Too busy for the Claus’s,

Mister and Missus.

 

Out here in the real world,

There’s money to make,

The world for us revolves around work,

And there’s no time to take,

Holiday breaks.

 

Here it is,

February now,

And I know it’s way past time,

But here in the real world,

I’m just now finding a minute,

To put pen to paper,

For a Christmassy rhyme.

 

Sugar cookies never did,

Go into the oven,

No stockings were hung,

Or carols sung,

Here in the real world,

It’s not important to build traditions,

For we are all on a mission,

That holidays don’t seem to fit in.

 

Seasonal frippery,

And packages full of mystery,

Under a flashy tree,

Aren’t part of the real world,

Here we barely notice,

That these things have come to be regarded,

As a great importance.

 

Here in the real world,

We’re generally busy,

With no spare time to prepare,

A monstrous feast,

So we gladly give a miss,

To the customary gathering,

Where anyway there is always,

Too much blabbering.

 

Out there in your world,

Christmas is a big priority,

And you view those over here,

As some kind of freak minority,

With kiddies to raise,

And memories to be made,

Presents must be present,

From wall to wall,

So you buy out the whole mall,

But here in the real world,

We have other things that please us,

And it’s not feasible,

To deal with such fuss.

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That Is Not The Reason For The Season

It’s not about eating candy canes,

Those were created to signify,

He who died.

 

It’s not about whose tree is prettiest,

They’re all wonderful,

Without a doubt,

But that’s not what,

The day is all about.

 

It’s not about a fancy feast,

You should be thinking rather of those,

Walking through your door,

For whom you cooked it for.

 

It’s not about the presents,

Yes the Wise Men gave,

To show their appreciation,

But this Santa thing has been blown,

Tremendously out of proportion.

 

It’s not about the lights,

Those too signify Christ,

And it really would not be a plight,

If you forgot to plug them in one night.

 

It’s not about the carols,

The day really will go on,

If you choose not to hear those songs.

 

It’s not about expensive ornaments,

They are simply,

Unnecessary adornments.

 

It’s not about the stockings,

They solely arose from a legend,

At that First Christmas,

They were never even mentioned.

 

It’s not about the Elves,

They came about,

Just to fill,

Your entertainment center’s shelves.

 

Would not our ancestors,

At that First Christmas be surprised,

With the way the day,

Has been commercialized?

People need to think on,

How and why the Season came about,

Before they go ahead,

And pull their wallets out.

 

 

An Improbable Holiday Happening

In case you happen,

To give a damn,

A thousand miles,

From wherever you are,

In a place quite inaccessible,

By a car,

Lives a Candy Cane,

Who is alive.

 

A Winter Wonderland,

We would call it,

It’s all white and barren,

And populated

By surly Snow Men.

 

Here in this Christmassy place,

Where there are many living Things,

One day there came,

A great storm cloud,

There were gusty winds,

That were terrible loud,

It soon burst forth,

With a sugary rain,

As down poured Candy Canes.

 

Most were devoured,

By all the Snow Men,

But one was spared,

And as he grew up,

It was declared,

That he was sent,

To make the Snow Men repent.

 

You see these surly Snow Men,

Did many crimes,

During their lifetimes,

Because in this lawless land,

One could do whatever,

Without reprimand.

 

Due to his sweet nature,

The Candy Cane became known,

As Mr. Sugar Cane,

And at the age of ten,

Learned his magical powers,

Permitted him to,

Think of a spot,

And be transported there,

On the dot.

 

Through books he learned,

About far-off places,

Where he went,

To meet new faces.

 

Most places he visited,

Just once but maybe twice,

‘Til he happened upon,

A jolly couple,

Old and fat,

And always happily chuckling,

The Mr. made toy trains for fun,

And the Mrs. had a barn,

She kept full of pet fawns.

 

Mr. Sugar Cane,

Visited this place often,

He loved the winter weather,

And the way everyone there,

Got on well together.

 

One day while conversing,

With old Nick and Mary,

Talk turned to the Snow Men,

He started cursing,

And told of their crimes,

Then expressed a wish for his home,

To experience more peaceful times.

 

It was proposed by Nick,

That he could employ,

These naughty boys,

To make tons of toys.

 

A great spell could be cast,

For them to forget their past,

He would call them Elves,

And curse them to always,

Keep toys on his workshop’s shelves.

 

Once a year,

Old Nick would deliver,

These toys to bring cheer,

To small boys and girls,

All over the world.

 

Even the deer volunteered,

To help with formulating,

This Master Plan,

And soon another spell was developed,

Fitting them to fly,

Now they could take,

Old Nick on the deliveries,

As with his old van,

He’d never make them on time.

 

That night when the Candy Cane returned home,

He had some magic stuff,

All sparkly and blue,

He went from place to place,

Where each Snow Man dwelled,

And this dust was felled,

It would take effect,

When next they crossed,

Over their doorstep.

 

They would be conveyed very quickly,

To the world of Nick and Mary,

Now called North Pole,

Where they were unknowingly slaves for life,

Toymaking forever,

With no time to cause strife.

 

Mr. Sugar Cane is still there,

In his Winter Wonderland,

Along with many other living Things,

Who think the place grand.

 

His best friend is a Christmas stocking,

Now in our world,

That would surely set people to talking,

But here,

It’s really not too shocking.

 

Whether or not you believe it,

This story should not be scorned,

As this really was how,

The North Pole got born.

A Re-Written Fairy Tale

Today I must,

For you re-write,

The story of Snow White,

As you read it through,

It may indeed pale,

In comparison to the original tale,

But I swear to you,

Each word is true.

 

Inside a vast forest,

Deep inside and to the North,

Lies a comely cottage,

Inhabited by a beauty called Snow White,

Who lives a simple life,

Happy and at one,

With our Mother Earth.

 

Each day is different though the same,

She wanders out,

And navigates her way about,

Picking herbs and berries,

Until she has all that she can carry.

 

Often she will spy,

A pretty bird in a tree up high,

Or an interesting flower swaying to and fro,

In the valley not far below,

But nothing could prepare her to see,

What she saw this morning,

They were a seriously scary,

And ugly thing to see.

 

A midget and a skeleton,

From the back yea sure,

They only looked like a couple of gentleman,

But upon them hearing our Snow White,

They stopped and turned around,

And there her heart nearly stopped,

Yes it plummeted to the ground,

And her scream was heard,

For quite a distance around.

 

You see she was used to,

Conversing with the animals,

And the occasional passerby,

Normally those out and about this early,

Were nothing like this evil looking,

Spine chilling crew of two.

 

Once her heart beat settled down,

She looked to them with a frown,

And though their words then were polite,

When they walked away,

She could hear them laughing about her fright.

 

Unused to interruptions such as these,

In her commonly calm grove of trees,

Since normally the type to pass through,

Were friendly and sincere,

She went to see Queen Aimee,

Knowing she would lend an ear.

 

After a talk and a drink,

Snow White was calmer,

And made her way back home to think,

Then at some point she fell asleep,

And awoke knowing just,

What to do to these creeps.

 

She had to bide her time,

Not just execute her plan on a dime,

She decided she would wait,

For Halloween to come around,

Then for sure this midget and this skeleton,

Would fall victim to her bait.

 

Her daily routine now has her on edge,

Never has she been so uncomfortable,

In what is normally her element,

The birds are no longer as beautiful,

Nor the flowers as fragrant.

 

Still though she powers through,

She must,

As the things she gathers,

Are her livelihood,

So she deals with these two daily,

While out on her strolls,

And the things she hears from them,

Are never very good.

 

What used to be so pleasant,

Was now nerve wracking and stressful,

There were still the lovely encounters,

With forest creatures and neighbors,

But no matter how much good was present,

Seeing those two would add a touch of dreadful.

 

While picking berries with Queen Aimee,

At a crossroads near her cottage,

Snow White could see the midget,

He was going about his business,

A slight scowl on his face,

She wished then that she could drown him,

In a pot of piping-hot porridge,

Especially when along came his skeleton,

And together they started speaking of her,

The lies they spoke were so vicious,

There was no way now,

For them to ever earn her forgiveness.

 

As the summer wore on,

Fall settled upon Snow White’s woods,

And for her plan,

She began to gather,

The needed goods.

 

She could see without a doubt,

That the midget and the skeleton,

Needed to be taken out,

They always schooled their face,

Into a friendly mask,

Until the unlucky one was gone from their space,

Then insulting talk and mean laughter would commence.

 

These two evil boys went out of their way,

With snide comments,

And nasty looks,

Their despicable behavior,

Made them many enemies,

Amongst this lot of trees.

 

Inside her cottage,

The cauldron smoked and bubbled,

With a brew so potent,

It would take only a moment,

For them to go under,

And leave Snow White and her woods,

Again untroubled.

 

Before long the day arrived,

Time for the annual Halloween bash,

All the forest folk were invited,

Even those two known as,

The neighborhood trash.

 

A great array of gourmet dishes,

Prepared exclusively by our Snow White,

Were set up on a massive table,

Bathed in colorful flashy lights.

 

There was a name card at each seat,

And two had beside them,

An extra-special treat,

A piece of her famous apple pie,

With just enough poison,

To not quite make them die.

 

First there was casino card games and some dancing,

Then to the food tables,

Everyone started advancing,

While they all filled their plates,

Snow White snuck off to hide,

To watch the midget and the skeleton,

Devour their food,

And then her bait.

 

Soon it was time for everyone to go,

All were so buzzed and full,

No one noticed the two troublemakers,

Had been brought down,

By their resident baker.

 

She dragged them inside,

And left them to a lifelong nap,

Where Karma could complete the work,

Their princesses never showed,

At the humble abode,

And as their lips never received their kiss,

They were forced to stay,

Forever like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We Hope You Have A Horrorble Holiday

A black cat,

Who wears an orange top hat,

Head of the Horrorble Spooky Pack,

We are no joke,

And on Halloween,

We like to leave things battered and broke.

 

I may be a sweet-looking thing,

But from my brain,

Meanness does sing,

And unto you,

My Spooks will do,

Anything I tell them to.

 

We promote fear,

Like Santa promotes cheer,

I’m ancient like him,

But my morning jogs,

Keep me spry,

So I can make you cry.

 

At our meeting today,

The whole Pack was so excited,

That it’s time to come out and play,

They’ve come up with piles of plans,

To give you a horrorble holiday.

 

We are comprised of lots of horrors,

Who all make me very proud,

A Live Witch’s Broom,

And some Screaming Wind,

Are some of the,

More exotic things.

 

Then there are the regular ones,

Like an Ivory-Boned Skeleton,

And an Enormous Evil Pumpkin,

Who weighs a literal ton.

 

Do any of these,

Sound scary to you?

If not,

Then you may be a fool.

 

The Live Witch’s Broom can sweep you,

Off the face of the Earth,

And the Screaming Wind,

Can render your ears,

Unable to hear.

 

The Skeleton and Pumpkin,

Are not just cute or silly decorations,

They can do evil,

Beyond your wildest imagination,

Would you like to see a demonstration?

 

I thought not,

But hey now don’t go run and hide,

It would so waste the night,

If you sat inside,

Come on now don’t be a pansy,

Get on out there,

And collect that candy.

 

We will be waiting,

Wherever we are,

Poor you,

If from us you are not far.