Long Pranksters Poems
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What kids are watching on telly
are crimes and crimes in all variety!
Crimes of hate
crimes of passion
acting it out at shocking rate
thinking in some wild fashion
then ending up cell mates!
When kids watch their movie heroes
shoot down people with the gun
they are incited to do the same
to achieve some thrill and fun.
When they see their very film star
slash someone's throat in a fit of anger
they think well of crimes of rage
and plunge everybody else into danger.
The tendency to portray the violent scene
luridly and shockingly on the Big Screen
Ah even for the small screen, tis the gory
that makes for the dark and thrilling story.
Now that technology's long opened this pandora's box
the dispersal of amplified social ills ain't no hoax
The rowdy hoodlums and reckless gangsters
are simply by-products of Tv influences
The world watches the thriving of the bully-boy pranksters
passively in helpless terror of their offences.
It's all portrayal of the vulgar, the obscene
by that devious Silver Screen
And the horror movie
though it may seem groovy
begets the horrendous
and drills evil thoughts subliminally
into the subconscious!
It's an unrestrained dark faking
of real life reality exaggerating
Whether it's Bollywood in the East
or it's Hollywood in the West
they don't merely impart tactics of defence
but rather those of aggressive offence
Viewing those gruesome swashbuckling films
gives rise to morbid sadistic whims
Flipping through the TV channels
just ponder if the telly's the perfect channel
of information is it a proper panel?
Dad always tells me, 'fear ye the roaches' flicking antennae?
While you oughtta fear the influence
of 'em' flickering images by dish antennae'.
Then a mere single merit that I dug
as I drank cappucino in my mug
that atleast one couldn't live in a bubble
daily watching the bubblebug.
Ah but then tougher gun laws couldn't halt
even underage shooting sprees
Rather it's stringent scanning of Tv content
that might make it all cease
Parental supervision too tis gravely essential
Should've been of parental code quintessential
So the next time you catch your teen
absorbed and engrossed while glued to the screen
Just sleuth a bit just to make sure
that for the x-rated he's not too keen!
Sitting uncomfortably on my kitchen chair, waiting for the doorbell to ring,
I think back to past Halloweens, underlying feelings - this uneasiness thing.
Do these feelings stem from my childhood or knowledge of All Hallows’ eve,
Or is it that I live way out in the country - has my mind just taken its leave.
Historically this night was thought to be, all wandering souls’ last chance
To revenge their enemies before entering the realm of their final dance.
Costumes and masks were worn to avoid being recognized by a lost soul,
Jack-o-lanterns of turnips remembered those in purgatory, that was the goal.
Raised in a quiet little village, Halloween was always a time of high alert,
Rumors and folklore outlined of terrible fires, of animals and people hurt,
I would watch my father the town’s clerk prepare for this horrendous night,
Each sign of concealment, a whisper just added to my ever growing fright.
Store owners sat quietly in the dark waiting for pranksters to soap windows,
The farmers watched for signs of movement by barns and over meadows.
Volunteer fire fighters sat by the phone to respond covertly to any barn fire,
No sirens were used tonight, reduce the alarm, or so they tried to conspire.
My best friend lived out in the country, we would trick or treat together,
Her parents drove us around all the country roads in the stormy weather.
Pumpkins would flicker eerily on the railings of front porches as a guide,
Acknowledging someone was home with treats, you were welcome inside.
But every single cornstalk moved in different directions adding to my fear,
No doorbells to ring or bright street lights to show the masquerades clear,
Fires burned in the distance, yellow and orange flames licked at the night sky,
Now cars pull down my gravel driveway, is this a murderer, am I going to die.
With each knock, I take my life in my hands and open the front door,
This time I see a little princess and a funky monster walk onto my floor.
It is now late and I move to the jack-o-lantern to blow out the candle,
Another Halloween - the fear and fright - too much for me to handle.
Written September 7, 2012
For Gail Doyle’s Halloween Night contest
In walked the Redeyed Stranger
Bragging: he used an excessive amount of
bagging gestures and words. He was told by
his handler to tune down the rhetoric, as one
person found him rude and overbearing. We
were worried someone would use the
opportunity to be mean of crasp towards him.
His horse had been clipped and shampooed.
The animal was a prized Belgium Draft, hows
shiny black fur was a sight for even the most
novice of people. The most positive thing about
his rant was we foundout that he worried about
someone greasing his saddle. He told one of
the men To watch the pranksters. One of them
might want to grease my saddle to get me out
of contention.When the time came for the horse pull
a fella went out and looked at all the saddles.
and be hold the saddle for the Belgium Draft had
been greased. A group of rider found a can of
grease with a brush in the chicken coop behind
the pile of cornhusks.
This a story about a group of Show horse riders who incorporated
"La selle Grasse" into there show. It was a scritp that involved the
audience.Often the Staged show would involve horses doing tricks.
"The Magnificent Athlete" a fella who wore a mask and cape would
come to the rescue of the guy accussed of greasing the saddle,
they'd brawl and tell the audeince who really greased the saaddle,
revealing a tied up man gagged with a hankercheif in his mouth.
The Masked Man than would use this forumn to catupule his
rasslin carreer. He'd "work a-show" for cheap heat and get
the pop he needed to get over with the crowd. ( He was raising money
to start his restaurant)
In honor of Actor Frank Reddick, Jr.
The evening in nineteen forty five was unusually warm.
It was only a few days until Halloween pranksters
came, braving the thickets.
Serenading the lightning was a bastion of Hawkers,
the last of summer’s cicada, and crickets.
My brother and I settled down in front of the radio,
that magical RCA marvel that brought nightly excitement,
bathing us in anticipation’s glow.
As we sat on the floor and looked up at it’s assent,
it seemed to rise disproportionately toward the ceiling.
Giving an air of mystery as moving curtains
cast its iridescent shadow, dancing and reeling,
rendering reality into a mode uncertain.
The clouds were moving in for a nightly storm.
Static popped and crackled as if part of the plot
as the announcer wove our minds out of the norm.
And just as dad left the room we heard a shot,
a scream and a blood curdling laugh and then......!
“Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men.....
The Shadow knows. hee hee hee heeeeeeee”
The Shadow, master of disguises, invisible to the eye.
He could control your thoughts and perception.
Just hearing him talk my little brother would cry.
There was always a good reason for deception.
And he had a good saying at the end of the shows.
“The weed of crime bears bitter fruit. Crime does
not pay.... The Shadow knows.”
~//~
Oct. 19 2010 Charles Henderson
2 nd in Paula's "Halloweens Passed"
In the land of fairy tales lives a tiny Pixie with golden orbs, etched in detail
with two pointed ears and pointy hat she is untouchable like the Holy Grail
In the fairy Kingdom lives the Silvan Elf contented with all his Tolkien lore
and every tale brings laughter and flighting, in the Forest of "open doors"
In this land of fairy tales, a gaggle of mages use elements without trail ;
Little dwarves no bigger then my thumb ducking beneath tall blades of grass
reconciliation spells by magic lanterns lit, from gold to yellow, copper, brass
Their territory and dominion is the land between the trees, while the muses
scribe, on illusionary parchment as translucent as a moon beam, they douse
the fires of reality. In the land of fairy tales only magic lives with cheeky sass
In the mind of children and the very old alike, lives a splendorous green haven
where all fears and loneliness is spoofed away, and all hunger quickly shaven
With mushrooms as tall as I, and crunch bit Cashews as big as a drop of dew,
no one slumbers without a full tummy and a yamusical song of sweet renew
Magical moon whispers and pranksters with a lisper, they even got a raven
Flying solo in the sky, in this fantabulous land of imagination Victor, is hero.
August 4, 2021
ps: I dedicate this poem to my friend Victor Buhagiar
Thank you Victor for always being such a supportive poet & friend.
A cheery fire so warm and bright,
But no comfort does it bring as he sits there all alone and quiet.
Starring into the flames that flicker and dance,
Pictures of her fly through his mind, as his mind is locked in this trance.
For sixty some odd years he had called her his wife,
She was all that he had lived for, ever wanted, she was his life!
And now he’s got a pain that he doesn’t know how to shake,
For she was the air he breathed, the reason for every step that he would take.
A knock up on his door as he wonders who it is,
I hope it’s not those pranksters, those misbehaving kids.
He opened the door and there they stood holding food of every sorts,
These ornery kids from the neighborhood actually had a heart.
They all filed in with condolences and warm stories that they had brought,
As tears ran down their young faces it was kindness these children sought.
She would always encourage their efforts and often bake them a pie,
He would laugh at her for being so soft, and often wonder why.
And to that she would reply, love is the key to overcoming bitterness if you just give it a try.
And that day I saw the proof, those kids standing there right before my eyes.
He said I know she was not a saint but to me she’s that and more,
And I know that she’ll be waiting when I reach that Golden Shore.
Life in the “Ghettohood” is finger licking good,
All souls in their folly keeps my coffers full and jolly
Anger hate and bigotry’s the best kind of energy.
Loud ruthless gangsters, young naughty pranksters;
Keeping up with the Kardashians, those vexed unholy citizens
A pleasure to see, their shiny gold turn to greed.
As Your strong wills yields to the thrill of the kill.
Awwwhhh Great Glory to me. My name will be history.
Oh the pride, the pride, the arrogantly foolish;
See your selfish lust fall victim to the lazy.
Be thy noble minds martyred violently crazy
Mmmm tasty, tasty, tasty ¬_ cakes and pies;
Delicious is the filling of steamy deceit and lies.
I savor the flavor of the strong, weak and old.
Don’t listen to the fables of those stories told!
I will suck the marrow from the bones of your babies;
Then tiptoe through the tulips, the roses and daisies.
For every time you lift a little finger of foe;
The energy of negativity helps me to grow.
Go on forget about me, I’m not so bad of a guy,
You’re all on the menu, the bold and the shy.
I’m just a mere villainous vampire.
Feasting till you completely expire.
Aye! The eating is marvelously good in every Ghettohood!
~~~w11152019
Painting a picture of porcupines playing
Pincushions parked in the field
Purple and pink for this playful perception
Plans of their purpose revealed
Painful endeavors of pacified pranksters
Preparing a pie at their place
Pecan or pumpkin, pickle, pineapple
Pieces are smeared on their face
Putting the paint on some powder puff paper
Pleasure in each stroke is plied
Pausing to peer at some porpoises playing
Prancing in pansies they hide
Puzzling problems with pretzels and peanuts
Posturing people to prove
Pistachio perfume in prime presentation
Preaches that peaches will move
Polishing pastels on pre-printed pages
Prized the possessions we seek
Paisley the plumes of a peacocks posterior
Portraits now come take a peek
Pampering pelicans play the piano
Pure as a piccolos prayer
Picking a parcel of plum flavored pudding
Poetic prose fills the air
Pleats in my pants shout in proud proclamation
Puddle my pores that perspire
Poodles on playgrounds prevent prosecution
Plotting my hearts pure desire
Passion precedes every past tense of parting
Piled with a presence so true
Painting a picture while purposely dreaming
Promising my love to you
Celebrations galore on all Hallows eve
Eyes have a tendency to play tricks and deceive
Youngsters anticipate receiving a trick or a treat
Pranksters get a thrill from watching their victims retreat
Adults have opportunity to join in the fun
Perhaps dress as monsters and bash two parties not one
Bump into a scarecrow within a corn maze
Be careful or you'll wind up like a skeleton if you're lost for days
Enter at your own risk, a creepy haunted house
Hear a loud shriek around a corner, step lightly as a mouse
Beaming through the darkness is the light of a full moon
Eerie are the sounds of howling, you hope not to run into what's making them soon
Shadows are lurking, dancing and taunting
The trees themselves seem to be haunting
Look down as something brushes your leg, it happens to be a black cat
Swooping down towards you, is it a vampire or just simply a bat?
Crows are hovering above as you're nearing the cemetery
Unarmed, thoughts of a zombie apocalypse are a tad scary
Endless are the possibilities as your imagination takes flight
So much could happen under the magical influence of Halloween, a mysterious night
I've chased dragons of destruction ever since I was a child
Turning meekness to a monster
Turning weakness into wild
Mild mannered turning viscous like a two gun fisted gangster
Laughing like a lunatic at those poltergeists and pranksters
Innocence into guilt
Once a garden now a ghetto
Those dragons breathing death leaving ashes,dust,and rubble
Young boy stuck in a bubble
Striking bullets...falling fast
As I chase destructive dragons I know this life won't last
Toxins taint my blood and bones
Poison floods my spirit
Pollution fills my heart and soul
I hear mad demons cheering
I see question marks and riddles as I'm twisting and I'm turning
Will they throw me in the lake of fire with fiends 4ever burning?
Truth gets told and lies I keep learning
Still my desire for those dragons it keeps 4ever yearning
The dragons of destruction
The dragons of disease
The dragon of my destiny was caught too easily
Now I realize in retrospect that monster's not just me
As I chase destructive dragons they continue chasing me