Long Banshees Poems
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Some people don’t hike through the wood,
especially on All Hallows Eve.
Ghosts of boys and girls of good
float at the campfire, if you believe.
Elves and pixies dance through the trees,
with taunting, mocking, and leering.
They swing and sway in the brash breeze,
their faces frighteningly jeering.
What was that? The crack in the wind
unleashes demons and banshees!
Their hideous yowling will send
even the bravest to their knees.
Ghosts and goblins arise from their graves,
harmonize in a cacophonous chant.
Don’t try to hide in the darkened caves.
They’ll find you in their raucous rant.
They’ll steal your bones with giggling glee
and make toothpicks with your ribs.
Quickly now, turn. Run, and flee
before they find you and call out “Dibs!”
(hub bur rigid version.)
All la names bespeaking deity froom
Noah Mo' Room India Arc
of Covenant to Blood
(sweat and tears) of
San Gennaro devout wowed,
and/or Turin shroud
consonantly demonstrably,
desperately, faintly, glumly
yet plaintively, muttered aloud,
no evading the steadily avowed
Atheist approaching funnel
(dum mental) stormy cloud,
cuz far as the eye could see -
at least by this Beatle browed
bipedal hominid (north, south,
east, and west),
the conical, demoniacal,
and elliptical endowed
sky high reversed cone, bow wowed
wailing 10,000 maniacs +
same number of banshees
wove weft and white
across wide whirled web
whereat, the black vortex
vacuumed everything
in sight (chowed
down) with loud violent row
dee earsplitting sound everything
within a vast path got plowed
obliterated, and annihilated proud
lee into bajillion smithereens,
hence mine entire being
held spellbindingly agog
frozen in place ruff akin
to well trained dog
without a chance to bark a blog
mired stock still courtesy, sans
extreme fear comp
pounded (zero apr) via
quintessential supreme tear
roar immovable paralysis
plus helpless as pollywog
lacking seizure of critical
whatsapp cerebral cog
as if blinded by a mental fog,
cuz nothing withstood
the incalculable suction
emitting barrage of sounds -
hmm...methinks or imagined,
I heard cry of a hog
amidst the pandemonium,
plus uproarious, ominous,
and insidious howl,
though still some
scant miles removed,
the deafening roar
felt like top of my head
blasted unable to jog
free (like a bajillion trained
thundering monsters at log
er heads) these screaming
quasi nemesis seemingly
horrifically, and directly
into my tender ears.
Jabbering Ignominious Hypocrite Gabbles - against the backdrop of gross unbridled viscous wracking zealotry bruiting extinguishing inherent national trust...
Poetic Introduction:
I wax and wane rhapsodic
plus prosaically politic
aware severe erosion
of American democracy
over run by narcissistic
over stuffed ego-freezer,
whose vocabulary
extremely laconic
foe swash buckling braggadocio
commander in chief
not gun shy
to brandish (hugely
bully like) jingoistic
tirade unleashing horrific
banshees more'n 10, 000
foo fighting maniacs
(nemesis of liberty) fatalistic
to sanctity of
United States democracy
throw back at him bigly,
his woeful treachery,
quasi xenophobic, tragic,
and lunatic bred anarchy!
Each ticking second of every single day, the pensive, doughy face execrably debased “dunderhead” criminal commander in chief (trumpeting acrimonious, calumnious, egregious...yakking), while donned in gay apparel) trumpeting lunatic, jingoistic, ideology imbues heretic catalysts.
Thou art unduly seething, quaking, and oozing mercurial kindling ideological glommed ethos of mine. These atrocious blaspheming, castigating, denigrating, excoriating, fulminating gross humiliations imply jerkiness, kookiness, lunacy.
No! Not for one more term can this acidulous, indecorous Mandates need outspoken politicians quickly removing this utterly vile wicked Xerses.
Thus spoke Zarathustra (without blandishment) to me, a gluten and monosodiumglutinate free, NON-GMO non-alarmist, nonestablishmentarian, nor ham aye a nihilist.
merciless genocide
slaughter of native peoples
wrought with (super) wanton zeal
feeble ability to thwart
"discoverers" rapine wicked onslaught
merely ratcheted wrecked webbing
wrenched tribal unity,
violently rent asunder
vibrant indigenous linkedin weave
rendered sacred weltanschauung
decimated "noble savage"
woke wretched nightmare,
sans pock marked worsted weal
the Native American holocaust
shrouded in whitewashed veil
tragedy trampled truces
triggering tearful trail
scoped scattered remnant
snuffed out via surveil
futile sympathetic remonstrances,
viz rant and rail
hermetically sealed
dirty deeds done dirt
blunted, cheapened,
and deadened
lance armstrong to quail
most definitely coloring faces
of captive
American Indians deathly pale
into figurative coffin
got hammered
rusty nine inch nail
subpar critical population mass
for survival, plus storied "red man"
bereft of ample potent male
off limits to original proprietors
forced to hightail
happy hunting grounds o'er hill and dale
becoming desiccated bleached bones
devoid of awful, pitiful,
and sorrowful fait accompli
and roaming spirits
like banshees bewail
grievous shadow a blot doth cause me to ail!
Beltane’s Night
On the eve of Beltane
The Earth’s call rang across hill and heather, towards ford and cliff
From tree to river the door calls, spirits of earth so fair,
Heard by elf and pixie, awakening the dryads in their trees of old.
Summoning them with rallying cries, to the Seelie Queen in her halls of gold,
While she sits next to Unseelie King in his throne, surrounded by their faerie hoards.
Every day for seven, they war,
On Beltane they pause their unceasing battle, with laughter like glass,
They gather in hidden glen, all those ancient faerie that Midir feared among fair folk,
First came the Bean Sidhe, kings honor guard, followed by the royal house,
Then came the sylphs in their array of colour, and the Leanan Sidhe with their cloaks flowing in the wind
With the elven troops on stags, crowned with roses and thorns,
The goblins’ heave their swords for all to see, the most renowned of smiths.
They all answered to the Earth’s call on Beltane night,
Dancing round these poles brightly wrapped with flowers, with true self sparkling And bright reveling,
On Beltane’s mystic night.
*beltane- ancient holiday now known as may day sacred to druids and fairy worshipers.
*seelie- light fey,benevolent, kind and helpful to humans
*unseelie-dark fey malevolent, mischievous and cruel to human
*Midir- famous druid bard similar to Merlin or Finn maccool
*Bean Sidhe-(banshees)
*Leanan Sidhe ( Vampiric fairy muses)
It takes two to tango,
as they say.
It also takes two
to road rage.
It sure is fun watching
two insane,
out-of-control knuckleheads
zigzag aggressively
on the highway
with their driver windows down;
honking their car horns,
screaming
vile obscenities back and forth!
Classy guys exchanging "bird flips"
as they chase each other down;
both angry enough
to run each other off the road,
if they ever end up
side by side!
Can you imagine
being caught up in that craziness?
Two banshees on steroids;
funny considering
one can't understand the other.
That's exactly how to communicate!
In the midst
of all the chaotic madness,
me and you; two safe drivers
sharing the road with two idiots
without a care in the world
about the safety of others;
completely oblivious
they're also playing Russian Roulette
with their own lives.
Neither of the two
possessing the presence of mind
to simply disengage
and turn down the heat
before it spells disaster!
Do not tailgate
these uncivilized loons.
Pullover to the shoulder,
or better yet,
take the next exit to safety.
Date written: 05/03/2020
Gray matter subjected to accumulate
incessant overall slack heavily larded
earlier in marriage, viz Zison clan
evicted Harris family,
whose hardship unemployment did exacerbate,
neither me nor birth mother worked
both this sir, and mum mate
afflicted with psychological disability
where physiological torture did subjugate
our respective physical beings with inadequate
skills to cope with child rearing,
hence blissful dialect tickle
accent doth boldly punctuate
angst strum fretful das
chord dent mental state -
mein kampf pronouncedly scarred,
asper lifetime subjected to debilitate
ting panic attacks impossible to abdicate -
relentless whipsawing, hammering,
and fracking drilling would never abate,
ache ken to ten thousand maniacal banshees
nsync with mailer daemons create
ting bedlam courtesy (Olive)
garden variety silently kick starting freight
train recklessly coursing heedlessly
despite engineer hood handedly
madly, and ominously didst gesticulate
in vain, the loco motif
barreled thru one billeted gate
after another crashing, this soundless fate
driving me into marshy madness accelerate
ting an existence toward self destruction
in tandem with Sue S Side, I accentuate
time and again, yet self obliterate
ting this papa would eviscerate,
(albeit emotionally) lovely Punim
Dishwater creeks are iron rails in the cold light.
The sky is thick
with the muted warnings of exhausted banshees.
Harken little sparrows
for bells in toll booths peel in their empty boxes.
The farms are lost, the fields have drowned,
cattle wander, levitating just above
a ghostly ground.
Wade we all, eye deep in the swirl
of better days.
when pewter moons silvered
bright dawning's.
If we travel far now
there may be no homes left
for us to relive our lives within.
Better to nail the mind down into soft pillows,
for the day has no forgiveness in it.
Mercy a prepackaged gift long opened.
I lay in the dust turned to mud by the blood of innocents,
my name i heard whispered on the sighing breeze of night
flahes of somrthing bright illuminated a ruined city.
broken buildings like jagged teeth seemed to laugh,
screams like banshees filled the sky dropping death
down upon the heads of those already dead.
What hate must be brewing in peoples hearts,
that no one lifts a finger to help.
They say that God gives them the right,
however no one knows what God they serve.
Little children some still babes lay beside me,
blank eyes looking up,as if pleading for help.
My tears are spent and as dry as the sand beneath me,
My time has come to travel a new path now,
Following the trail of those gone before,
A trail of tears no,as no tears are left to shed.
Meeting fellow travellers of all nations,
murdered ,is all they say.
Andrew Provan McIntyre. 01/07/2025.
Alas, you may have noticed if
you’ve looked around the world these days,
you don’t see werewolves or zombies,
no vampires or mummies at play.
The whole world seems to have lost that
thade of mystery we once knew,
The creatures that stalked us of old
have become remarkably few.
There’s still a few out there, I know,
good old Dogman up in Michigan,
but for many of these creatures
their wild days have come to an end.
Now what’s the reason for this loss?
What has brought about this strange thing?
That’s easy enough to explain,
we humans are great at killing!
Yes, just as with normal animals,
we kill off what might be a threat,
something threaten might endanger out lives
is something that we can’t abet.
So just like predators and small pox
we saw the job was done,
heck, we published how to kill them
in all of our horror fiction!
Stakes, silver, garlic, and headshots,
we let all the world know how to win,
to the point out nights have become safe,
free of all the creatures of sin.
But if you still want to see them
then I have some good news for you,
you can see them all down at the
Endangerer Horror Species Zoo!
Now we got ghouls, goblins, wendigos,
your Demons, your banshees, and sprites,
we got all of the B-team monsters,
but most folks come for the big five.
I guess we should start with the werewolf,
each must roam in his own separate pen,
their spacious and lined in silver leaf,
we don’t want them getting out again.
The only ones left are the old ones,
so old they no longer transform,
they just stay werewolves all the time,
apparently this is the norm.
whatever the case, it’s good for us,
people can see them fur and all,
through a foot-thick one way mirror
that forms the enclosure front wall.
These eight foot beasts eat messily,
yet people gather when they feed,
yhey act appalled by the whole thing,
Yet they consistently watch the scene.
And when those lycans howl loud
it pieces right down to the soul,
ten times the fear of a normal wolf,
the spine tingles, and blood runs cold.
But people like feeling afraid
so long as they know they are safe,
sometimes we’ll drop a rabbit in there
so folks can watch the beast give chase.
Why do so few of these beast remain?
think silver bullets plus machine gun,
most of them now are heads on a wall,
we’re luck to have more than one...
CONTINUES IN PART II.