riding out the night
searching for that solar storm
instead, up ahead
columns of wind
breach the scene
green trees clobber the place
as bedlam pulls out the white swords
and once again it's on
even though it was full as can be
no sign of Jason Voorhees either
maybe he's graduated from the mask
this place ain't so scary
"THIS PLACE AIN"T SO SCARY!"
(stirring up the devils)
only 15 minutes 'till we're in the clear
Saturday 14 is near
©2014 ~JSL PoetTreez Publishing
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO
or do you want to tell the person whose first name is sang by sinead o connor
middle name is sang by fred durst
and last name is mentioned by fred durst
do you want to tell me, the person you just spent 13 years mad at
singing and dancing to my misfortune
and rubbing your happiness in my face as you exclude me from sex
do you want to tell that person whose name you plastered all over your war
that he had nothing to do with surviving it
do you want to tell that man
Troy Jeremy Nelson
who just lost everything 17 times
to start over
that he was not your allie
in whatever that was?
let me put your name alll over a war
and then wait for your enemy to show up
and ask you
what does that guy got that i don't?
you murdered my grandpa
you murdered my friends
you murdered my sex life
and you sang and danced to my misfortune to the tune of your lies
pretending i was your friend called an alibi
you didnt bother to even try to keep alive
do you want to come telll
Troy Jeremy Nelson
that your country just did that too
that thats not what happened?
Im not sure how long your going to live that lie
the thousands of people concerned and involved in that persons endless
and i mean endless nightmare
might just come tell you what has been making them cry.....
Happy Halloween tho
oh and p.s.
next time you put somebody else in the middle of your war
to play the victom of that person's nightmare
take notes to pass into the future
as to what is about to occur
may be a life lesson
Thank you for not caring (sarcasm)
thank you for not answering my letters (sarcasm)
thanks for going the wrong way, in the wrong direction, to do the wrong thing
that whole time i kept pointing out a drug ring blackmarket, you people didnt care
thanks for calling me a liar as to what has taken place in my life(sarcasm)
so whenever you are free to hand me a bunch of things with your smiling face, and
names all over them
to make me feel better for the way you treated me
singing and dancing to the sound of getting away with murder
for the miracles youve stolen
my big brother doesn't like to dance around and play house, pretending to be
someone hes not
in a singing competition, racing against his sense of fear
do you want to come tell the man just tortured by malpractice
with his name on your war in your music,
he had nothing to do with winning it?
Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson
December 18, 2012
Beautiful lies known as little white lies
yet one is no more deceptive than each
The truth is what makes it afraid of light
It's important we practice what we preach
Imagination built on lies destroy
Imagination built on truth create
Conquering evil we try to avoid
Tooth fairy, Halloween, Santa abate
Perceptions and images make it real
Origins of Pagan rituals true
We've wandered down this path for a bum deal
Now more lies are created all brand new
The mask behind a beautiful white lie
is the truth with a constant shield, but why?
Copyright © humble b
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Faust on the Brocken summit
Go our own sweet way for show.
Walpurgis Nacht’s spirit of perversity
Time now for your eternal soul
The Evil One’s sitting in a fiery glow.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
May 19, 2015 (Double Dactyl)
Copyright © Gary Bateman
Why not whisper, why not speak?
When upon thy shrouded depths,
Thou knowest truly, what we seek
Why be quiet, why not be shrill?
When your hoot and squeal and growls,
Shivers our spine, with unbidden thrill
Why be fair, why not be black?
Then your hackles and caterwauling,
Sends us scurrying, to home be back.
Why be frail, where is your broom?
When your ire and witchy hex,
For wayward kids, spells dreadful doom.
Why be lively, why not be lone?
Your dark stretch once cast shadows,
Dancing wickedly, with the wind’s soft moan.
Why be normal, why be so pale?
When it’s your ghostly light and full visage
That sends the night, to howl and wail.
Why be silent, why won’t you creak?
The touch of your twisting limbs,
Will send us running, though knees be weak.
Why in flight do you shy away?
When your flap and eerie screeches,
Bolts us upright, from where we lay.
Why be still, why don’t you blink?
When your lifelike and weird stare,
To morbid fright, makes us sink.
Where has thrill, and childhood fear went?
The dread craved, without any harm meant,
The simple fire lit stories, From whence one conjured,
The demons of the night,
Feeding eerie appetites.
For now this world, has darkened indeed,
With the very evil, that is man’s own deed.
With horrific crimes, atrocious and vile
In contrast makes sweet, the bitterest bile.
Woe for ‘tis sanctified no more, the domain of life,
Taken cold blooded with nary, a conscience’s strife.
Children though chaste, with this horror not spared,
Man’s grimmest side, to dire fullness bared.
The great divide, between men and monster,
In these darkest of times, exists no longer.
That is why…
My mind whispers and hoots and growls,
Caterwauls and moans and howl and wail,
Hexes and shies and stares and blinks and sinks...
Down, down, down.
For I pity this frail humanity,
In its sad, sad, sorry plight,
That ponders why innocence has gone,
From scare’s warm embrace,
To TERROR'S cold arms.
- Originally posted as TERROR TERROR.
Copyright by the Olongapoet,
George Daniel Anos Oct. 12, 2008
Copyright © George Anos
Cold air surrounds me
My body shivers as it did long ago
I fight against the rush of memories
But give into my addiction
I sit where we both sat that Halloween night
Nervously laughing, hands trembling
Neither of us knowing
Exactly what to do
The windows fogged up
As our breathing became ragged
Two little lovers
Each into the other
As I finish my high
My memory bursts out of my eyes
Tears cascading down my face
Picking out old memories to quell the pain of life
Addicted to what used to be
Current reality is death to me
Stay away from me, object of my past
Don't give me memories when I'm almost done at last
Compound toxins build up in me
Memories of you clash with drinks flowing free
The dizziness of drunkenness kills off the old
And inserts me into a world of gold
Until I wake again and remember it all
The past was so perfect...
Now it's so hollow
Where does my salvation lie?
Copyright © Derek Chos
The content of this poem is semi-graphic, so please be aware of that before you
Yes, There Really Are Monsters
Growing up as a child, I never wanted to sleep alone.
Fearful of the isolated darkness and mostly the unknown.
“Mommy is there monsters?” a question I would commonly ask.
“Only on Halloween my dear, the ones we see in masks”
Still not satisfied with her answer, I questioned her more.
Asking her the same old thing as I did the night before.
Frustrated and exhausted, she took me by my little hand.
Looking under my bed, in my closet; even the night-stand.
“So see my daughter the monsters are only in your head.”
“It’s time to get some sleep Stacy Lynn, now do as I have said.”
Respecting mommy's wishes; my little body trembling with fear.
Wishing the hour was morning, praying for “him” not to appear.
But as darkness faded, an uncomfortable silence fell about.
I could hear the monster stirring, preparing to come out.
Hoping the noises I heard, were my brothers fooling around.
Pulling covers tightly over my head; praying not to be found.
Footsteps getting closer, the monster is at the foot of my bed.
I hear his heavy breathing; this is not at all what mommy said.
Quietly lifting covers back, he lays down in the bed beside me.
Touching, groping and mauling; covering my eyes so I can't see.
He took away my childhood and my trust and self-esteem.
A pleading child without a voice, invisible as it would seem.
"So yes my daughter there are monsters, everywhere we look."
Stating as I remembered my childhood and everything he took.
Copyright © Stacy Stiles
we were just neighbors
he had black hair and brown eyes
we were hardly seven
playing hide and go seek
in the neighborhood
in the dark
fake plastic knives
expensive halloween masks
hollywood took my life for a picnic
they call my childhood michael myers
A girl moved to town
from somewhere in the states
said a meteor created a river there
she always liked to make up horror stories
to go along with hyperventalating
truth or dare and seances
imagine yourself in a cemetary
imagine yourself with no friends
imagine you have an unstoppable desire
to kill kill kill
There were a few broken ribs
a few doors busted down
no one died
but i will never forget what happened in that particular town
looks like halloween
just not the right day
just out to play
so many lines from your horror movie stolen right from my mouth
tears in my eyes to the relisation that something so awful went soo far
ask any of my old friends
they will tell you of that great hiding place
why some of my better friends ended up insane and never threw me away
not sure how much longer i'll survive my exaggerated childhood on display
wait till i grow up a bit more
and then parade every other mistake i've made
the loveless relationship i have with the world ends today
his name was never michael myers, only few of us know his real name
Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson
starvation wears her mask
on all the faces of poor children
who live on islands of poverty
still no Halloween tonight
there is no food in sight
Copyright © Gregory Golden
No one really needs the gifts
We buy this time of year.
Recipients fake oohs and aahs,
Most likely insincere.
The scarves and watches, soaps and mugs,
Pajamas, books and brandy
Are purchased just for custom’s sake,
Like Halloween and candy.
We agonize ‘bout what to buy,
Then shop and shop and shop;
And when each listed name’s checked off,
We finally can stop.
I wish I could sit out this game –
I’ve had it to the hilt;
But if I didn’t get each gift,
I would be wrapped in guilt.
Copyright © ilene bauer
THE BOOGEYMAN WILL GET YOU-LOOK OUT!!
They have said that to me ever since I was a wee boy
Lurking under the sheets,in the closet,behind one's back
Especially at night when we are susceptible to the vivid
imaginations of our peers' taunting ravings of Unmentionable
crawlers of the dark and fright
I would not sleep with the closet door half open to fill these
frightened pupils of what may hide behind
It would scare me out of my adolescent mind,to know that something
SINISTER would come from the shadows and SCARE me to death from behind
Every little boy or girl would be so sensitive to the Boogeymen stories that their
elders or friends would tell them,how green and deathly evil their eyes can be
when they look back at you.Is it purely imagination or something of a twisted and
macabre sense of humor that our brothers and sisters would like to throw back
at us..for kicks and thrills,Halloween night terrors of unimaginable thrills
When I was younger,the Man with a Forever Grin,would like to ridicule and
terrorize me with his Devil-may-bite smile and assistant ghosties who would play
along for the HELL of it.
I may be a grown man now,my friend,but whenever I pop a HALLOWEEN dvd in
my player,the mind cannot help but recollect the pictures of Night Terrors that
forever go bump in the night where I live..
I hope the same can be said of those same Vile screamers that terrorize us in
the first place..give them a taste of their own WICKED medicine
Copyright © Bart Jonas
I went to buy Halloween candy;
The choices weren’t really the best.
I figured I might as well buy what I like,
‘Cause I would get stuck with the rest.
Last year I had no trick-or-treaters.
My Kit-Kats and Mounds bars sat waiting;
And each time I saw them I scarfed several down,
The calories accumulating.
I should have just bought treats I hated,
Then tossed them when nobody showed;
But childhood advice gave me warning
That I’d violate some kind of code.
So today when I stocked up on candy,
I chose all my favorites they sell;
And I promise I’ll wait to unwrap them
‘Til I’m sure no one’s ringing my bell!
Copyright © ilene bauer
Sometimes I think
I enjoy fear
remembering what I felt
when I was fearless.
I awake bravely
in the morning knowing
risks and hearing continuous
portents, sad words
follow me everywhere.
Is silence the scariest thing,
or is the gabble of human
voices scarier still?
Copyright © Don Schaeffer
I could have fallen
Stepping down the hill slope
On the slippery roots
Not wearing my work boots
Just rubber-soled sneakers turning down Main.
A new-balanced moment
Walking back to my room
By tenement house-caves
A descendent of slaves
Hammers his clapboards shut to shield out the rain and his pain.
Not quite just like him but almost
On my bottom
Wet with a sore and muddy rear
Instead, the familiar is different not near
Packaged in new jeans and things to gain.
This inheritance tumbles and rumbles
Passed the times before rhymes
That bygone old day
The way my crimes pay
My children and their children with stain.
More slippery roots
Like too much candy
On Halloween night
After all my fright
Do I hide what's left in my closet and feign
There's no illness within?
I'm fine to revisit tomorrow
My little dark place
With a travel-smudged face
To leave behind my unghostly presence in vain.
Once there was fair dreaming
Release from wretched remembering
But now just the put-together-puzzle shackles dank
And the spurn of spinning tires in a snow bank
Out of time, missing the only train.
Just slippery roots
Left to not trip on
My bags are all packed but the laundry's still damp
One last letter brief needs a lick for the stamp
I go to my strange land by plane.
Copyright © David Lasoff
I passed some brownstones on my walk
All set for Halloween,
And several had the scariest
Displays I’ve ever seen:
Webs with spiders, huge and black;
Zombies looking like they’d love
To leap out and attack.
A ghostly bride with tattered gown,
A clown with moving eyes;
And ghouls and vampires waiting
For some souls to terrorize.
This wasn’t friendly child décor
But really scary stuff.
I think a smiling ghost and pumpkin
Might have been enough.
The obvious intention, though,
Was doubtlessly, to shock.
At night, I know that I would hate
To walk down such a block.
I miss the Halloween of old
And wish we could go back
To a time we’d have a little scare
And not a heart attack!
Copyright © ilene bauer
A candied feast
Copyright © Stacy Stiles