9-11 HALLOWEEN

Written by: George Anos

Mist, Mist..
Why not whisper, why not speak?
When upon thy shrouded depths,
Thou knowest truly, what we seek

Darkness, Darkness
Why be quiet, why not be shrill?
When your hoot and squeal and growls,
Shivers our spine, with unbidden thrill

Cat, Cat
Why be fair, why not be black?
Then your hackles and caterwauling,
Sends us scurrying, to home be back.

Hag, Hag
Why be frail, where is your broom?
When your ire and witchy hex,
For wayward kids, spells dreadful doom.

Road, Road
Why be lively, why not be lone?
Your dark stretch once cast shadows,
Dancing wickedly, with the wind’s soft moan.

Moon, Moon
Why be normal, why be so pale?
When it’s your ghostly light and full visage
That sends the night, to howl and wail.

Trees, Trees
Why be silent, why won’t you creak?
The touch of your twisting limbs,
Will send us running, though knees be weak.

Bat, Bat
Why in flight do you shy away?
When your flap and eerie screeches,
Bolts us upright, from where we lay.

Statues, Statues
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,

Remembering…    
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