I Proudly Despise 10/31

It’s a freak show out there,
And no one needs to take part in it,
Once you put on the outfit,
You become the spirit,
They’re not cute,
They’re not a joke,
Long ago they were used,
To keep those spirits confused.

A disgusting debauchery,
So crazy so stupid,
And then Satan stabs you,
Like an arrow from cupid.

You hear “trick or treat”,
So you open your front door,
Congratulations,
Idiot,
You’ve actually opened a door,
To a spiritual war,
One you don’t believe in,
And so you have,
No chance to win.

Spells cast upon villages,
In Europe by druids,
FYI,
Your jack-o’-lanterns aren’t so stunning,
They were used back then,
To relay a message to demons,
To tell them whether to retaliate,
Or to keep on running.

The threat:
Sacrifice your child,
For their treat,
It’s the only way to avoid their trick,
On that night so wild.

This day and age,
We’re so naive,
We have fun,
Singing from a stage,
You’d never know it,
It’s not like we’re told this shit,
But in 1969,
In a hotel that seems fine,
Something terrible was born,
A doctrine that instructed the misled,
How to worship the one,
Whose head is depicted with horns.

Now it’s celebrated,
On a certain date,
The last day of October,
It’s nothing to most,
But nothing equals no knowledge,
Which in itself is a win,
For the side of darkness and sin.

And why would anyone,
Who’s a decent human,
Side with them,
Now they’re one more soul scored,
Instead of being a part,
Of the army of the Lord.

Fact

**********

Happy Easter!
He is risen!
So it’s your own fucking fault,
If your heart and mind remain imprisoned!

I bet you’ve heard since the cradle,
About God and his Angels,
How a beating and some bloodshed,
Made it so you’re able,
To keep on living once you’re dead.

**********

Eggs and candies,
Put in baskets,
With plush chicks and bunnies,
Delivered or hidden,
By a fictitious rabbit,
Has become the modern day,
Holiday habit.

A way to show remembrance,
To the man who wore,
That crown of thorns,
To the Friday night fight,
That was foretold,
To take his life,
But through God’s might,
Came out alive,
On Sunday morn.

**********

A week before the first Easter,
Jesus arrived in Jerusalem,
And the people acknowledged him,
By throwing palm branches,
Hereby declaring,
Peace and victory’s coming.

Dogwoods and lilies,
Not the most commonly known,
But they’re symbolic to Easter,
Showing there must be someone,
Up there on a Throne.

The wood made the cross,
Where near the lilies sprung up,
As Jesus hung there,
These along with an empty tomb,
Were the recipe that made rebirth,
Possible for all,
Who walk the Earth.

Now we have butterflies and lambs,
Emblems of Easter,
That convey this same thing,
Crucifixion and resurrection,
For the forgiveness of sins.

We make hot buns,
With a cross on top,
And eat them the day,
Our not-yet-done sins were bought,
Buns in which even,
Their seasonings have deep meanings.

On Easter’s Eve,
A big beeswax candle,
Clearly marked,
Stating the cross,
As being Beginning and End,
Spreads God’s light,
To all in attendance that night.

Who knew baby chicks and new outfits,
Share similar significance?
……….Both define new life in this instance.

**********

Now we’re all blessedly able to pass over,
The old timer’s traditional,
Passover sacrifice,
Because when Jesus died,
Becoming the Lamb of God,
There was no longer need,
For the ritual to be applied.

**********

Two Fourteen

This thing,
“Valentine’s Day”,
It reminds me of those church people,
Who only remember,
On Christmas and Easter,
Who is King and Master.

It does not matter,
What they say,
It’s just stupid,
And it’s always been that way,
It does not matter,
What is said,
If it makes you that excited,
You are fucked in the head.

A heart worth snagging,
Will never be impressed,
By heart shaped boxes,
Maybe I miss my guess,
But if that’s all it takes,
For a fucking yes,
You haven’t won a thing,
Worth all that bragging.

Mr. Fancy Pants,
Is taking her,
To the dinner dance,
How very predictable,
But the rest of the year,
You know they’re miserable.

Making time,
By skipping work,
As if he’s not,
Usually a jerk,
As an added touch,
He’s picked up cheesy flowers,
Knowing it’ll amp up his advantage,
That when you’re out on the town,
You will let your guard down,
Mentally sign yourself up,
Together for another year,
Bound to be,
An even deeper disaster.

Bears and candies,
Line the bar,
When you wake up,
And head for coffee,
In your jammies,
This is supposed to make right,
Every time there’s been a fight,
Please don’t fall for it,
Another fucking year of bullshit.

**********

It’s not the life for me,
I prefer to be free,
You may call it lonely,
But I say,
It sure as shit,
Beats your misery.

**********

Made Possible By Snowmen

A Christmas wreath,
Flying through the air like a frisbee,
Grabbed by an unseen hand,
Settled on top of,
A pudgy snowman.

The snowman shook her head,
She was confused,
Feeling something around her head,
She reached up to unseat it,
But it had become fused.

Her head began to tingle,
Where the wreath sat,
And then the bells attached,
The wind made them start to jingle.

Every year,
The very same wreath,
Floats down from the air,
And picks out a snowman,
To help with Mrs. Santa’s Plan.

Someone at the North Pole needs a snowman,
One that isn’t made,
Of their magic snow,
So Mrs. Clause sends out this wreath,
To gather one that she can’t reach.

During Mr. Clause’s,
Christmas Eve run,
Mrs. Santa has things,
She needs to get done,
For something in particular,
She’ll need the help of this one.

You see snow from the outside,
Is the only thing,
That can make things go unseen,
And she wants to hide.

No!
It’s not like that!
She’s not doing anything shady,
But those elves are nosy,
And she wants time to herself,
For a cozy evening,
Like a regular old lady.

So up and away,
Flew the snowman,
And when she landed,
In that Far North Land,
She was greeted by the twin,
Of Santa’s famous deer Vixen.

“My Lord”!
She exclaimed,
Upon looking around,
“I’ve never seen,
So many like myself before”!

“Ah, but they’re not like you”,
Said the twin of Vixen,
“Ours are made with stuff magical,
And cannot do the job,
We’ve collected you to do”.

And so in the short time it took,
To deliver her,
To the Clause’s door,
He provided swiftly,
A brief North Pole history.

Mrs. Clause heard them coming,
And threw open the door,
Calling out a merry greeting,
Around the mouthful of Christmas cookie,
She was eating.

Now Vixen’s twin plodded off,
And the non-magical snowman,
Was left with just Mrs. Clause,
Who explained she needed a night to relax,
A total break,
From the whole Christmas act.

“The elves would take this as a sign,
Of great disrespect,
And my husband would worry,
I wasn’t taking our job seriously,
So year after year,
I bring one of you here,
For the snow you’re made of,
Gives off a poison shine,
And if elves look upon it,
Their eyes go temporarily blind”.

So the non-magical snowman,
Was asked by Mrs. Clause to guard,
Posted right at the property’s edge,
So the elves’ views of the place,
For the next twenty-four hours,
Would be barred.

All throughout the coming day,
That woman had a ball,
She had,
After all,
Waited a whole year,
For this day to fall.

Half was spent lazing about,
Watching un-Christmassy things on her telly,
Then she cooked and ate unhealthy cuisine,
Like sausages with sour kraut,
Before taking time out,
To read a book,
Instead of being,
The elves’ cook.

Peeking out her front window,
She saw the non-magical snowman,
Was still there keeping watch,
But the time was up,
On this trick,
She must get ready,
For the arrival of St. Nick.

It would be another year,
Before she would again be clear,
Of dear Mr. Clause,
And before he showed his face,
The evidence of what happens in his wake,
She must be sure to erase.

For of course Santa Himself,
Would be able to see through,
The non-magical snowman,
As he’s much more powerful than an elf.

Let me tell you gladly,
It does not end badly,
For those flown in to assist,
Mrs. Santa makes damn sure,
They are compensated for helping her,
She turns them magical,
Rather than returning them,
To where the first sign of warmth,
Would have them die a death most tragical.

THANKS•GIV•ING

November again, huh?
It sure doesn’t seem like it,
But the month of tricks and treats,
For this year is deceased,
It’s time now to prepare,
For the famous,
First-class November fare.

It seems to get less attention,
Than October’s demon playday,
Or Christ’s birthday,
That’s just one month away,
But if we tried to pass it by,
It’s guaranteed that wouldn’t fly.

Silly it seems,
And even dumb to some,
But it is tradition,
And most people follow it,
Of their own volition.

Tearing into turkeys,
And wrestling for wishbones,
The biggest worries being,
Whose closet skeletons,
Will come out for seeing,
And will we gain a pound,
After this meal is downed?

Luckily the meal has evolved,
It now includes alcohol,
Which is a perfect something,
To round out the apple and the pumpkin.

Pilgrims there may not be,
But we will have friends,
We’ve formed into a family,
And really nothing’s better,
Than an excuse,
For us to have a get-together.

Hey Little Kitty-Kats

In this classic case,
Of being in the wrong place,
At the wrong time,
They picked up their pace,
When the Strange One,
Opened up his jowls,
And let out a heinous howl.

Being so much smaller though,
The cats were too slow,
And the stray wolf,
In need of a pack,
Turned them,
And now there’s no turning back.

Basic house cats,
They were out on a stroll,
For some Halloween laughs,
And sad to say,
That was the last time,
They’d have a normal-cat day.

It was a fun time,
People watching,
And clawing jack-o’-lanterns,
Until they were unrecognizable,
Until a dog walked by,
Who was quite sizable.

Weird vibes emanated from him,
But they paid no mind,
Until it was too late,
Now running was out of the question,
They were out of time.

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

That was last year,
And now it’s been a whole ‘nother year,
Halloween,
Has come ’round again,
It’s been accepted all around,
Although it still feels foreign.

Now they’re wolves,
The Strange One,
Couldn’t find a pack,
His magical abilities,
Made others of his kind stay away,
As though he were overrun with fleas.

Due to lack of fans,
The Strange One took matters,
Into his own hands,
He made his own pack,
Out of house cats.

There’s no way out,
For him now,
Though he’s happy to have a pack,
There’s one thing that,
He cannot stand,
And this is when they meow.

All the other wolves,
Howl and bark,
Sometimes in the daylight,
But mostly when it’s dark,
His mostly talk,
When the sun is up,
And each time they meow,
He wishes they’d just shut up.

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

Strangely enough,
The pack is content,
You’d think they’d be upset,
But they’ve got a silver lining,
Because to them,
Their master is in debt,
They’re spoiled rotten,
And they’ll never let what he did to them,
Be forgotten.

How To Make Santa Angry

A polar bear,

Without a care,

Was skating mindlessly across the ice,

Thinking about a steaming bowl of something nice,

When down swooped a pigeon,

Who tried to get him to join up,

With some cultish religion.

He turned quickly around,

To get away,

From that awful sound,

And that’s when he heard,

The most welcome noise,

As it ran past him,

So swiftly it was blurred.

It was his good friend,

Elvis Elf,

The one he cared most for,

Besides himself,

And he was singing a version,

Of Jingle Bells,

That would have had Mr. Pigeon,

Saying he was doomed to the Hells.

“Peter White”,

Said Elvis,

When he was close enough to be heard,

“I dare you to help me make Old Santy mad,

Let’s make this song of mine,

A new North Pole Christmas fad”!

And there Elvis began to sing:

“Jingle Bells,

Mr. Santa’s balls smell,

And I wish he’d go away”……….

Laughing,

But at the same time horrified,

He agreed,

To cooperate,

I’ll make it known here,

That this polar bear,

Had a personality snare,

That prevented him,

From turning down a dare.

So the two put their heads together,

To plan what might be best,

As the elf had a vendetta,

With Mr. Santa,

To get off his chest,

And of course the bear,

Was excited to prove,

He was not too pussy,

To perform such a measly dare.

It took some doing,

But their brains finally did figure out,

A way to easily go about,

Making the wild tune,

Something all the North Pole’s peoples,

Would willingly shout.

Old Rudy was taken,

To a cabin long forsaken,

Peter stood watch,

To be sure he got,

The best possible care,

And to make sure,

If any others came by,

His roar would give them,

A gigantic scare.

Elvis distributed a bulletin,

With the lyrics of his shocking song,

And advising,

If they wanted their lead deer back,

They would have it learned,

By the time dawn cracks,

A fortnight from now,

And at the end was written a post script,

Warning if they breathed a word to the Head Man,

They risked being whipped.

It was a different sort of missive,

That got delivered,

To Old Santy and his wife,

It started out “Dear Sir and Ma’am”,

And ended with,

“If you’re not there,

It will cut through our hearts like a knife,

Love and kisses,

Signed,

Your Faithful Elves”.

All day every day rehearsals were held,

Meeting in little groups,

To keep the Boss from finding out,

Yes it would be a most unwelcome time,

For him to start nosing about.

With a foreboding feeling,

All learned each and every line,

And before they knew,

It was time to assemble,

In front of the grove of pines.

The morning of the singing,

Turned out bright and sunny,

And not knowing the truth,

Both Clause’s put on cheery finery,

So they would look their best,

When they went to see,

What pleasures were planned for them,

By these little darlings,

Who barely came up to their knees.

When they pulled up to the pine grove,

Things were very quiet,

So much so,

That against all the brightness and snow,

It seemed almost eerie.

There before them sat,

Rows and rows of elves,

Still and silent as the ones,

Who sit upon your shelves.

In just a moment,

Elvis stepped up to the sleigh,

“Now out you get you two,

And follow me this way”,

He said sans a greeting,

Then walked off towards the special seating.

Soon the Jolly Man and his woman,

Were settled in to watch,

“How blessed we are”,

Whispered He to Her,

But how fast this changed,

To “Let’s get ourselves the fuck out of here”!

When at Elvis’s urging,

All those threatened elves began to sing.

“Jingle Bells,

Mr. Santa’s balls smell,

And I wish he’d go away”……….

And then from around the corner,

Darted the red-nosed reindeer,

For whom during the past two weeks,

The Clause’s had lived in fear,

Of never seeing again,

And he proceeded to tell them all,

About the how’s and why’s,

Of his sudden kidnapping.

Meanwhile the song was coming to an end:

“Jingle all the way,

Oh it’s fun to take and hide,

The one who leads the Sleigh”……….

In Elvis’s eyes,

Things were at long last even,

Between him and the Big Man,

Tit for tat,

After last Christmas’s embarrassment,

He had finally taken a stand.

Oh though,

What an oops this was on his part!

To assume all would resume,

Business as usual,

After that knife he just purposely thrust,

Straight through Santa’s heart.

He thought himself high and mighty,

But Santa was just waiting,

For him to go night-nighty,

Then with a little Christmas Land Magic,

Elvis was modified,

Into a figure most tragic.

When he awoke,

A monster stared back from his mirror,

And as the day wore on,

The fact it was no joke,

Became increasingly clearer.

He was then banished,

To guard the North Pole’s secret entrance,

Their own abominable snowman,

Who walks with a limp,

And a candy cane club,

Being deemed unpardonable,

By both the Clause’s,

For certain there’s nothing,

That can cure this curse.

Thanksgiving, Under The Influence Of Jameson And Fireball

I think sometimes it’s actually easier,

To list the things for which I’m ungrateful,

Than to think of some,

For which I am thankful.

But today being what it is,

I’ll do my best to turn that around,

And prove to the world,

I’m not completely upside down.

I’m happy with my loyal friends,

Who are my actual family,

Despite the fact that my blood,

Tends to treat me like crud.

I’m happy I’ve moved on,

From psycho ex bastards,

Despite the fact that if I’m not careful,

It will lead straight to my next disaster.

I’m happy to be a stunning beauty,

Boasting both muscles and femininity,

Despite the fact the nasties in nightclubs,

Sicken me by blatantly grabbing my booty.

I’m happy that the weekend,

Is always guaranteed to come around,

Despite the fact that it always ends,

With another hellish week,

Waiting right around the bend.

I’m happy to have my doggie,

To keep away the dangers,

Despite the fact that she also scares away,

Some who are far from strangers.

I’m happy I live,

In a land with endless summer,

Despite the fact that all the sweating,

Is a real bummer.

I’m happy I have talent,

That is artful and creative,

Despite the fact that all the left-brainers,

Think of me as insane.

I’m happy my pony,

Awaits me in Heaven,

Despite the fact that thinking of her,

Makes the Earth seem slightly lonely.

I’m happy I have a job,

That pays enough to buy a good life,

Despite the fact the hellhole,

Is so full of strife.

I’m happy I’m not easily brainwashed,

By the leftist media,

Despite the fact that blindly believing,

When they pout and shout,

Would be an easy way out.

I’m happy I live in the age,

With plastic surgery,

Despite the fact that recovery,

Is temporary misery.

At the moment,

This is all I see,

Maybe there is more,

But at present,

This is all that is transparent.

Bandit Broom’s Emergency, Halloween Season, Year 2020

I tumbled down from the sky,

Laughing and twirling,

And causing her skirts to go twirling.

Get fucked up things must,

And so of course,

Then came a great gust,

I felt her slip,

And then completely lose her grip.

Into a ditch below,

Is where she did go,

Now,

She being my witch,

I would have followed her there,

But the night was black as pitch,

And with the wind,

Pushing to and fro,

I was soon in despair.

By and by,

It will be Halloween,

And the veil between,

Grows thinner by the hour,

We must find,

That for whence we came,

Or we shall be devoured.

Eaten alive,

By The Dark Horned One,

Who cast the spell,

Because he wants my witch,

To be his bride in Hell.

It took me precious hours,

Sweeping the ground,

Using my bristles,

Like the nose of a hound,

But at last she’s been found.

Unconscious!

Losing her would make me nauseous,

So I must be cautious,

But let’s be honest,

Waking her too soon would seem monstrous,

Though if I wait,

The results could be disastrous.

Just thinking of her,

As the She-Devil,

Who resides with Lucifer,

In his lair downstairs,

Enraged me so,

That I saw stars,

So I did a little half-somersault,

And then stepped side to side,

So as my handle was tapping,

Into her hide.

With a few taps she awoke,

And urgently we spoke,

Hasty decisions must be made,

So we prayed,

We’d be unafraid,

To do whatever needs must,

That would cause the Head Demon’s plans to turn bust.

Motivation was strong,

We must prove him wrong,

It could and would be found,

The Purple Poison Spider,

For which we had set out after.

We made it through the veil but just barely,

Finally onto the side,

Where the spirits reside,

Now the real challenge begins,

We’ve got to grab the Spider,

And cross back over,

Then deliver it to Lucifer,

Or my witch’s life is as good as over.

I landed us swiftly,

And my witch jumped off easily,

I’d search high,

And she’d search low,

So I took to the sky,

While she hunted below.

It appears we were expected,

As even still,

It almost escaped us,

It snuck up behind her,

To go in for the kill,

But luck was on our side,

And I was able to land vertical,

Before it could hide.

I gave it a sweep,

Hard enough,

To push it away a few feet,

And hearing the commotion,

My witch turned around,

And lightning fast cast a charm,

Freezing it to the ground.

We had a quick consultation,

Would we make it back in time,

To cross back over without struggle?

Or would we encounter trouble?

It was iffy,

But with no other options,

We were off in a jiffy.

We had not quite an hour,

Before the veil would start to thicken,

And as the minutes ticked on by,

She kept toes and fingers crossed,

As her heartbeat began to quicken.

With just four minutes left to spare,

We made it out of there,

Then stopped to catch our breath,

And be certain that the Purple Poison Spider,

Was yet stuck for safekeeping in her hair.

Oh great relief!

The mission’s end was near,

All that was left,

Was the handoff to the Devil,

He’d get his much sought after Spider,

And I could keep Her.

Indeed!

He had a look of angry surprise,

When he saw our prize,

I’ll laugh over it forever,

He really thought he’d acquire my witch,

But you see,

She’s MY bitch,

And I’d undertake,

Another such endeavor,

To put His evil ass in its place,

And keep a smile on her face.

Independence Day 2020

The Earth is beautiful,

But the World is one hot mess,

Are we all fuct?

Have you all given up?

Because I was born,

The same way I’ll die,

And that is free,

One hundred percent,

Not just to some degree.

Some people seem to know,

Just what buttons to press,

To start another war,

It about makes me envious,

Of those about to go knocking,

On death’s door.

Before all the land was settled up,

The pioneers had the right idea,

They were wild and free,

And lived off the land,

Never submitting to laughable laws,

Of another man.

Slow and steady,

The years passed by,

The population grew,

And everyone thought,

They knew what was best to do.

Now there is this piece of shit,

Known as politics,

No matter how far you travel,

There’s no escaping it,

They’re at your local grocery store,

And at the nearby sea shore,

Face it,

Once you’ve dared,

Walk out your door,

You’re not free,

And nothing’s fair.

Now here I sit,

Trying to make,

Some sense of it,

It’s looking like half are lying,

Just to set the others crying,

It won’t be long,

And the tables will turn,

Somehow everybody’s right,

Though both sides say,

The other is wrong.

This year,

Freedom is not ringing,

It really hasn’t for some time,

Well last I checked,

My taxes are paid,

So I’ll do as I please,

In this supposed Home Of The Brave.

Excuses to sidepass unconstitutional rules,

Should not be essential,

And a possible arrest,

Should not even have potential,

I ask,

Why celebrate the Fourth,

If you don’t discern its worth,

And if you do indeed identify,

Rather than fall prey to political lies,

You should act free,

And you should act brave,

Until you are called,

To your grave.