Frankenstein held this kitten close to his chest
his heart and the kitten’s heart had the same beat
He began stroking the creature’s fur
It was soft, like his mother’s hair
The townspeople returned with pitchforks, rakes and knives
This was the olden days before people had bullets or guns
Frankenstein and the kitten were nowhere to be found
The townspeople grieved, expecting the worst
Not understanding that the outside is not always
a reflection of the inside
Frankenstein had a heart that loved animals
This kitten was given the name “Halloween”
She lived with Frankie and his wife until her death
at the age of twenty-two
As time passes, the pickaxe loses its purpose.
The shovel breaks when plunged into you.
Water no longer softens, nor does it change you.
What happened?
Why so hardened?
Has the venom of the world seeped so deep into you
You no longer bring a smile to the fellow passersby
You no longer inspire the townspeople to shout happy cries
Don’t you miss the lush green grass and leaves?
The beautiful flowers and trees?
For the talk of the land you once were.
Now you're the laughingstock of your enemies.
Comment what you think.
a thorn in his paw caused him anguish most of the day
his mood got darker, he wanted to crucify someone
at least make them suffer half as much as he was
by noon he was the angriest he had ever been
an angry werewolf, not welcome anywhere
he was in too much pain to sleep, so he stomped around
looking for mischief, scaring the flesh off some of the townspeople
this gave him a teensy bit of a reprieve
by the time he saw the line of jack-o-lanterns he was frantic with rage
he stomped them, slammed them, chopped them, tore them
a werewolf with a sore paw is not something anyone wants to discover
I was too frightened to help him so I locked myself in my car
which he rocked with his strong body, hoping to terrorize me
a frightening Halloween night for this writer
Ah, such a dandy with a girl on each arm.
Is it his flaming red hair, or his endearing charm?
Two more behind follow in family extension.
Nice young girls drawn by his questionable intention.
A talked-about scene as they walk down the street,
The townspeople are shocked by this amorous fleet.
Like a barnyard rooster surrounded by hens,
He lives in a fantasy where love merely pretends.
Then, one day, he met the New Age Jezebel.
Rejected, he continued his romance to pursue.
Into her web was where he stumbled and fell,
And for the first time he pledged that his heart would be true.
A single rooster was walking down the road,
When he circled a stone to see what was behind it.
The cock had been young, but he was now growing old.
I wonder why he's searching. I just hope he can find it
Small Arkansas town had tolerated enough
Deceased bully is now not so tough
Lots of guns blasted the square that day
They did not give the brute time to pray
Gunshot came from every direction around
It did not stop until the bully was on the ground
Don’t mess with Arkansas, said Detective McBing
None of the townspeople saw a thing
The whole of Eastern Samar
Is commemorating its historic
Battle joined by local patriots
Of Balangiga and neighboring towns
On September 28 1901, the only battle won
By fighting Filipinos against the Americans
That we call now the Balangiga Encounter of1901
This heroic act in that part of Samar
Placed the Balangiganons and the Waray townspeople
In the realm of historic significance
All for independence and democracy
The final return of the Balangiga Bells
Brought in a global laurel to this very remote town
That has now stood more prouder yet humble
For the ultimate sacrifice by their forebears
For love of country and people.
There was a man who was quite weird
With a chunk sticking from his beard
So I helped myself
And pulled out an elf
Which wasn’t as bad as I feared
But when we thought that his strange beard
Was in fact totally cleared
Ten kangaroos
Jumped out too
Which made all the townspeople cheer
That’s when a brave man volunteered
To reach one last time in his beard
When out did leap
A flock of sheep
And at least two of them were sheared
At last nothing else appeared
From his extraordinary beard
But we were, I declare
Sucked into his hair
And the town and I all disappeared
Embroiled in
Pre-dawn delusions
Assuming the
Cloud covered moon is
Destroying its symbolism
For my own amusement
As the parking lot becomes
Mystical, enlightened
Full of
Ambient apparitions
Of the eternal type
With the coyotes barking
And my
Inner self yawning
I see an old radio
Centered in the prosaic grass
I am told I must
Change the station
I am afraid to touch it
Even if the angel Gabriel came
To force my hand
I would scream like a
Ferrell cat
And
Dance like a madman
Like the saint known as the
Fool of Christ
Drunken, with glass in hand
Fooling the townspeople
With disguised piety
Hidden within his hermitage
Back to the
Vision of an
Old radio
Against my own fear
I turn it on and
Tune it to the first station
I can hear an old man
With a
1920's type
Radio host's accent
Like Pathe news
All over again
In wartime England
And in his dialogue
Thru a slight crackle
I can hear him disclose my
Location
To what I assume to be
A company of demons
Yes, this is a predicament
Too long and
Exhaustive for a
Simple poem
Tune in for the
Next installment...
12/22/2023
In the softest, snowflaked, winter moonlight she walks
The townspeople peered out their frosted windows fora
chance peak.
Not a precious feather moves, and she is not stalked.
All knew not to mess with her, for she is their hope and
not a town freak!
Rebelloisuness courses through her throbbing, silent.
robust veins.
She dreams of a world in peace, free of all govermental
intervention .
A must,is that, on any writer, forbidden foreever, any
attempt to dare their pen to restrain,
Streets for all, to walk without dark fear, a world sparkling
with open, jubilant communication!
Robot man I bought back in sixty-nine
Looks scary, ominous, totally ultra-fine.
When the invaders came, I put him in my yard.
They terrorized others, but thought he was a guard.
These spaceships avoided him, as if he were mean.
Disappeared rather rapidly, never again to be seen.
Many other townspeople disappeared that weird Tuesday.
But I am still here, with my robot man, resting away.
past knoxville and idaho city there are a pair of adorable nitwits.
townspeople refer to them as kooky oddballs, a couple of twits.
their name is easy to learn. she is backward ditz; he is fritz.
brown eyes are lop-sided, their glances can be the pits.
watch out! cautions their neighbor, they will bore you to bits.
they showed up one day unexpectedly during a neighboring blitz.
I heard they were parisians, but another told me they are brits.
fritz can do a weird almost-hand-stand, and ditz does the splits.
twits do not put on airs; neither abides by the ritz or any glitz.
they eat bland foods like porridge, oatmeal, and plain grits.
calico cats come to them all the time, presenting them with kits.
their fighting is so common, their eyes are swollen to slits.
fritz likes to knit, so their house is full of junk that he knits.
afghans, scarves, hats, potholders, and unusable oven mitts.
ditz does not wash her hair, so it is full of lice, bugs and nits.
also have zits, and they have performed some really weird skits.
A
preacher,
Jeremy
Winston lived out
West two-hundred years
ago. He was framed for
murder of his family.
Mammon offered him revenge if
Winston gave up his soul. Although killed,
he came back to life as Gunslinger Spawn!
Winston was commanded to kill all the
townspeople except for Parker, who
he was ordered to float down a
river in a casket. By
saving Parker, he saved
an ancestor of
Hellspawn, who would
destroy one
day the
world!
April 17, 2023
For the Spawn Character contest of Robert James Liguori
Boris the brave kneels at the feet of the remnants of his castle’s gate.
The battle was rough, and he wonders now if he might be too late.
Where are the ladies in waiting? What of the queen?
The Wayfarer army was the toughest one the knights had ever seen.
Village is in ruins. The townspeople are probably in the hills or worse.
Boris kneels in confusion, and spies a tiny velvet embroidered purse.
There is a note inside, written in a hand he recognizes right away.
We are in Sheridan Valley, we left the eighth eve of May.
Two knights soon join him, and kneel at his left side.
They are also of the round table, beside him they always ride.
He senses them as they drop a knee and gives praise to Yost his God.
That he has spared the life of his pals Sir Frederick and Sir Bod.
Boris gives thanks to the gods that his lady had the presence of mind.
To leave this tiny bit of hope for him and her cherished purse behind.
He heads out toward Sheridan with hope in his heart that is pure.
Of course he is carrying the favorite purse of his darling Lady Cure.
PRODIGAL SON
Prodigal son I was
I lived a wayward life
Indeed a promiscuous
A boy with a sinister heart
I didn't respect no one
Nothing to lose, but all to gain
Nor was I scared from anyone
In my young heart it reigned
I lived in the streets
With my friends by my side
I didn't heed to my parents' advise
Nor from the teachers sent by God
In my brood, I was the black sheep
In school, I was the teachers’ antagonist
A bad influence I was branded
To my townspeople, I was bad indeed
I was eighteen when He touched my heart
I was confounded, baffled and dazed
What is this Lord?, I soliloquized
Change! Change! Is what I realized
I prayed to the Lord God
" What should I do my Lord?" I asked
" Be my servant, to me He replied
Then my faith, He concretized and galvanized
I am now teaching the Good Tidings
For men to be saved from impending judgment
From the Lake of Fire on the Day of recompense
That the Kingdom of God they may inherit.
Train pulls into the depot
welcomed by all the townspeople
Next biggest event of the day
~ How many eggs your hens lay
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