Have You Met Yourself?!

I’d bet not,
By the way you glare,
My dear,
Misery engulfs you,
And I sense fear.

The way you smile into your mirror,
When it’s just you,
That’s the way you need to let loose,
When to others you become nearer.

It’s buried deep,
But you’re such a delight,
Why do you let those demons,
Force you to fight?

I’ve seen you be so charming,
That it’s disarming,
Too bad you follow it up,
With being so unworthy it’s harming.

The pain in your mind,
From the shackles that bind,
I command it loose you now,
By the only mighty matchless name,
To which demons must bow.

You’re withering away,
A little more every day,
Because you won’t unearth,
A little laughter and mirth.

Seriously,
Do you know you?
I guess not,
Oh how sad this is true!

Poking through is sunshine,
That’s bold and courageous,
I can see what you would be,
If you’d forget,
And let it become contagious.

Fight!
Fight for your life!
From the sidelines I can tell,
You’ve been felled,
By the hounds of hell.

Next time you smile into your mirror,
When it’s just you,
I hope you introduce yourself to you,
And the scales fall off,
So you see you,
From my view.

Birthed From A Bad Place

Nothing,
No one,
And meaningless,
No good,
Worthless,
And useless.

Insignificant,
Pointless,
And empty,
Flawed,
Imperfect,
And valueless.

Can’t get it together,
Having trouble sorting what I’m seeing,
Like what the fuck,
Shit doesn’t add up.

This sorry hide,
Pushed aside,
No not the end,
But getting deathly sick,
From all the bends.

Going once,
Going twice,
Going fucking crazy,
From some psycho that’s shady.

Unhinged,
Certifiable,
And batty,
Ballistic,
Eccentric,
And unbalanced.

Deranged,
Demented,
And loco,
Unsound,
Delusional,
And irrational.

Little bitch gots a secret,
That needs to be spilled,
Little bitch gots things latched on,
That makes him all wrong.

**********

Up goes prayers,
To the only one who cares.

**********

That Shit Won’t Fly Around Here

Witches and wizards,
Gather ’round,
You’re going down.

The blood was shed,
And it won’t be wasted,
We’re here with a purpose-
To see evil dead.

The horror and gore,
We abhor,
And it’s gotta go,
In Jesus’ name,
For our God is more,
Thank just folklore.

Your spells are blocked,
And your cords are cut,
Your books are burning,
But luck is with you,
It’s modern times,
So you get to avoid,
The shower of rock.

Caught –
You’ll have to throw in the towel,
On tonight’s assignment,
Go tell your boss,
You’ve failed at this prowl.

With our praise and worship,
And the sword of the Spirit,
We’re ushering Heaven down,
Feel Him fill this room,
Overtaking your charms and brooms.

Crushed are your carvings,
Broken are your bones,
Torn are your tarots,
And cracked are your crystals,
This party is over,
With the win going to the savior.

The Unicorn

For as long as anyone could remember,
It’s said a unicorn,
Has lived on the mountain yonder.

When was he born?
And would he ever die?
Was he maybe a myth?
No that can’t be,
Because some say he’s been seen,
And not just in visions and dreams.

He’s said to be really pretty,
With chocolate hair,
And flaxen points,
With the added flair,
Of a glittery silver horn,
Poking out from the forelock,
That is rare.

Some say they’ve seen him,
In the settlement,
At the bottom of the mountain,
Parading through the streets,
On his four fancy feet.

Legs lifted high,
As he trots,
Hoofs that match his horn,
Pound the pavement,
Each and every morn.

Or so they say,
But it’s happened that multiple people,
Have been in the same place,
At the same time,
And while some swear he whipped by,
Others saw nothing,
And say with an eye roll,
And a sigh,
“They must have been high”.

Many were sitting outside,
At the cafe,
On a morning kind of gray,
When one of the aged,
Said to her grandchild,
“Look at that horse!
It’s that one from the mountain,
Said to be wild”!

But……….
“What horse”?
Asked the small girl,
Standing in her chair,
Hoping for a glimpse,
Of that horse of course.

“That one”!
Exclaimed a young man,
One table over,
“See, he’s just stopped!
Check him out,
Before he runs”!

Now the whole patio,
Was in a turmoil,
Three more could see,
But no others,
And there must have been at least thirty.

The little girl,
Still could not see,
And told grandma stubbornly,
“Your advanced age,
Must be making you crazy”.

“For I,
Not yet quite nine,
Have sight far better than yours,
Which I’m sure is fine,
But definitely no better than mine,
So come now,
Sit down and dine”.

But grandma ignored the child,
For all the five,
Who could see,
Were torn between,
Laughing with glee,
And wanting to turn and flee.

Because the unicorn,
Was a sight to see,
Flaring his nostrils,
And pawing the ground,
After rearing up,
Then coming down,
But his eyes seemed more docile,
Than hostile,
It seemed he was having fun,
Watching the goings on,
Then just like that,
He turned and again,
Began to run.

“Oh look at the tail”!
Shrieked a little boy,
One of the seers,
“It looks six feet long”!
“Yes! It’s marvelous indeed”!
Grandma agreed.

The twenty-plus,
Who saw nothing,
Didn’t know what to think,
So soon all,
Ceased to speak.

Poor them,
Blind to the unseen realm,
Yes they were,
The majority,
But wrong they were,
And thankfully,
Didn’t cause a stir.

Now back up on the mountain,
The unicorn headed,
So he could get rested,
It was always so tiring,
After a morning run,
But it was also fun,
The reactions of the peoples,
While running through their streets,
Past shops,
And places to eat,
Placed among schools with bells,
And churches with steeples.

The unicorn,
Whose name,
By the way,
Was Horn,
Didn’t realize,
That most of the peoples,
To him were blind.

He got a kick,
Out of the excitement he caused,
Not understanding,
That a debate,
Had been ongoing,
Between those who had insistence,
Of his existence,
And those who had persistence,
That he was a fable,
Made to entertain,
At bedtimes and dinner tables.

He just knew,
That everyone became unbridled,
When he strolled through the city,
Yes it caused a commotion,
That made him laugh,
As he played it in his head,
All day in slow motion.

The tale of Horn,
Will continue to be told,
Throughout circles,
Both young and old,
Most believing it fiction,
But an esteemed few,
Know that it’s true.

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.

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.

No Ordinary Pony

Teeth that elongate,

That’s the way I was created,

But I’m glad it is this way,

As blood is so much cheaper than hay.

No doubt you’ve heard of vampires,

And I’m sure you’ve seen a pony,

But I bet you wouldn’t believe,

That there’s a Being around who’s both,

For any amount of money.

I have no idea,

How long I’ve roamed the Earth,

I’ve never really,

Put much thought into my birth,

Most likely I’ve been around,

Since the beginning of time,

Anyway,

That thought sure does make me seem sublime.

I wouldn’t consider myself demon-like,

Although I’m certainly no angel,

At times I suppose,

I’m a bit of a scoundrel,

But in no way,

Does this make me pure evil.

I believe I’m one-of-a-kind,

At least never before,

Have I met any exactly like myself,

Though I admit,

I gave up looking a millennia ago,

Searching was such a bore,

And seemed like such a chore.

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

Let me tell you what I see,

When I look at me,

In case you yourself know of any,

And so could tell me.

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

I look like your usual stable pony,

But there is one telling difference,

That sets me apart from others,

I am a loner,

Looked upon by other horses with bitterness,

I’m never welcomed in the herd,

And from me they always flee.

At first glance you’ll see I’m sweet as honey,

But you’ll notice when I get hungry,

My eyes will glow rose red,

And my four teeth front and corners,

Extend way out from my head.

Each person who has known me,

Has come upon me strangely,

It must happen this way,

So they don’t figure out,

That I do not age or die.

I’ve always just felt this inkling,

Saying someone needs me,

And when it’s time to start anew,

I slip off into the night,

And wander aimlessly away.

They think me an easy keeper,

I need just a minimum of feed,

But still stay plump,

With plenty of energy to jump,

Each time I wander into someone’s life,

They like the fact that I come cheap,

But I bet they’d freak,

If they knew what I got up to,

Each time they fall to sleep.

When the night creatures come out,

I gallivant about,

I’m on the prowl,

For a fat bit of fowl.

To them it’d be just gore,

I have no doubt,

It would make sure,

They did not like me anymore,

That’s why I do my food route by night,

So I don’t have to listen to them shout.

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

In between ‘homes’ though,

Is when I’m most at home,

It’s embedded in my bones,

The love to roam.

Laying in a field of flowers,

Free to devour,

Whatever I please,

No matter the hour.