Monday, October 31, 2011

Hellbred for Halloween


Midnight vanity
Children,
Monsters,
Scourge

Pop-star repercussion
In this,
That latter place
The republication of
Acuteness

Thoughts converge
Convulsing apathetical
By riddles cawed in masks of straw
Violence in the vigilant
A village of weight
Upon
The Vigilante
Stuck sorting through each mask

Stars dim their twilight
Feigned superstitions
Unearthed inside
All days to follow
Pay the fare

For scorpions tears
Black-winged scales
Dragon's teeth,
Dissect & Stare
Blend, stir, chill, and serve
Sanguine seeker
Ashen, to the parched
Landscape—
         Where taste is beholden
         By thirst—“young kids, what they know”
Stirring…
“Every time some damned whack job writer talks about sexy vampires or cool demons, we get a cult of reenactments”

Sauntering throughout each chalk-lined imprint, the—
I guess, now, newly appointed, or acting, in the very least—
Sheriff can feel the breathing, singeing, of each hair upon his neck—
“Get back, that’s what the yellow line is for people, just get back, NOW, don’t want no more unnecessary tonight—it’s freakin’ Halloween people, go bob some darned apples or whatever you all do these days”

Vegetarian (of circumstantial foundations) vexed in frustration
For philosophy stands, tonight, in disregard
Hallowed day breeds hollowed eve
Parents clamoring for condemnable treats
Forgetting tricks comprise the second half
Spillage
Senses flare
                  “I MADE A PROMISE”  “A MF’N promise”—
The tension tinges to a flair.  Shift’s been long extended now, “Don, I mean Sheriff, whatever happened didn’t happen here…been over the area twice now, somethin’ obviously happened, but this place is dry”

“SO WHAT YOU WANT ME TO TELL PETE’S WIFE AND KIDS- GO KNOCK ON HIS DOOR AND WAIT FOR HIS MISSES TO ANSWER, PROBABLY WITH THE KIDS BY HER LEGS, DRESSED UP & READY TO GO-HE SAID THEY WAS GOING TO BE THOSE DAMN LITTLE VARMINTS FROM THE GEICO COMMERCIAL- THE OLDEST ONE—(sniffles, wiping tears) he’s got the megaphone…Pete says he’s got the Command down pat…and I don’t have to tell you, miracle that kid’s even made it this long, with what he’s got and all…SO ROW, ROW, ROW…What the F’ Should I tell them, Trick or treat, WHAT THE F', YOU WANTA BE THE ONE”

None of the uniforms say a word.  Heads are hung, eyeing concrete over the extensively jagged pause, severed only when

Don turns back to them, streaming tears abandoning, “ You all go home, be with your families…"


Not knowing if they should listen to the Sheriff or the guilt, the officer's fidget amongst themselves, until

Don reprises the demand, "You all deaf now, just go…THAT”S AN ORDER”

Looking up the sky reveals a raven’s plummet
In-spiral spheres, the drizzling afterglow lost in cosmic drift. 

Pinprick tingles length of spine,
Down the legs and up the blades
Look around and realize: I stand amidst a cavalcade of temptation

The sheriff eyes the women marching the strip.  Are they working? Why the hell would anyone dress like that?  It gets you thinking, doesn’t it?
Alas, I am much too weak

Turning around, reopening the yellow gate, Sheriff Don stares into the side-view mirror, of his friends car, “Pete, damned you, of all people, you should’ve just gone home…" 


Poking about the gravel, looking for anything, anything at all, "Gonna hafta get this towed back to station…”   
That’s when he noticed…


He was showing, 
just a bit, but still,
 a tooth was escaping lip,
“kinda figured, anger does it to me every time…thank God it’s tonight”

"Wait all year for the one night,
The one damned night,
Get to be myself,
And I’ve been so darned good,
Damn, you Pete"


Sheriff Don called in the tow, waited for those scavengers to arrive, "Gonna cost a fortune...oh, yeah they love this... f'n overtime"


After all was silent once again,
He felt it,
That same feeling he first felt 200 years before,
Hunger, pure hunger

"Holiday my ass...
At this point, F' it,
Might as well,
Restart the fast
In the morn, after all 
it is M'F'N Halloween”
 
This Halloween themed piece is also being shared over at Jingle Poetry at the Gooseberry Gardens for their weekly Poetry Picnic.

6 comments:

  1. I hope no fast is stopped and restarted near me, that would be f'ing horrible to see. Like your vampire better than that Twilight CRAP, did not want to make me take a nap. Great call to Halloween. Adding to the spooky scene.

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  2. There are some fine poetic flights amidst all the storytelling:

    By riddles cawed in masks of straw
    Violence in the vigilant
    A village of weight
    Upon
    The Vigilante
    Stuck sorting through each mask

    Looking up the sky reveals a raven’s plummet
    In-spiral spheres, the drizzling afterglow lost in cosmic drift.

    There are also great elements of storytelling here: curiosity seekers like vultures at the scene (as long as it's someone else's tragedy); fighting the darkness within (can the hunger be curbed?); the sheriff is not as he seems just as the masked faces obfuscate; hiding in plain sight on the night where everyone's a monster. What struck me was the vigilance: the need to discern the real from imagined; the humanity behind the mask. Fine Halloween writing!

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  3. this republication of acuteness...uh there is an old sheriff in town...whose bark is def not as bad as his bite...sounds like he has a conscious though fasting and all...nice one fred

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  4. some deep thinking,

    what a fantastic share!

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  5. hey yo just checking in to see if you had anything up today...hope you are well...

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  6. Lots going on here Fred, and quite interesting...feel like a sail boat making its way through verious currents, tide pools, and eddys of a vast ocean of thought and emotion!

    Nicely crafted, Fred, as always!

    Roger @

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