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Jim Bolone Poem
Awakened by a noise from in the attic floor,
Your adrenaline says it may be something more;
Darkness echoes a disturbingly different sound:
Rocking on attic floorboards slowly up, then down;
Whatever be next be warned not to hear,
Bullies be advised to cover your ear;
Else you succumb to a scheming laughter;
He's come to get you -- he's Benny Rafter.
Like a siren he'll draw you as he rocks to and fro;
Under his spell up the steps fearfully you'll go;
And when in arm's reach to that rocking in the dark,
Benny's hands will snatch you, his eyes will spark.
Describing Benny Rafter is a futile endeavor --
For bullies who see him disappear forever,
Unfortunate witnesses for Benny to take,
Each led to the attic for evil's sake.
Some say Benny's skin having been dead for a while,
Has a zombie-like greyness that wrinkles his smile;
His nose pointed, his nostrils wide,
His teeth hold captive a serpent's tongue inside.
His hair long and gray and raggedy too
His breath the decay of bully-body stew;
His fingers are boney, their nails long and straight;
He's dressed in a suit to fancy bullies' fate.
His own life was sad, too morose to tell,
His childhood was not one ... akin to hell;
No holidays, no birthdays, no friends to play,
Young Benny Rafter's youth remained sad and “far” away.
In school he'd try, try as he could,
In sports bullies laughed because he wasn't very good.
In all his sadness to make matters worse,
Bullies poked him, prodded him, and even cursed.
Benny's desire for youthful things in life,
Progressively hardened to hatred and strife.
His days on Earth were far from few,
Dwelling, despising what bullies would do.
A rocker begotten from generations before,
For Benny the chair to settle his bully score.
Friendless, lonely, and angry at his lot,
Benny hated bullies – he hated them a lot.
And when it was time for Benny to die,
With a waning light left in his eye,
He swore an oath from his last living breath...
“I'll find all the bullies by rocking after death!”
Thus it is when the lights go out
Night time's the stage when Benny's lurk's about;
Be sure to pull the covers over your head,
Well over your ears with every stitched thread.
If bullies' ears catch a thud in the dark,
From up in the attic striking beating of heart;
For once its floor creaks of strange rocking noise,
You're already a victim – you're Benny Rafter's choice!
Copyright © Jim Bolone | Year Posted 2014
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