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.

Drucilla

I wrote a few Halloween inspired pieces today. There's this one, the one I'll post on Monday and not sure if I'll post the third one yet or not.

Pitiful Drucilla in her tattered silk

The paste has yet to dry

As crimson blushes tongue

You’re voluptuous

Sensual lines curve

Shadow tightly against

Plasterboard

Catharsis flecks dust

From the skylines trace

Denouement’s never dreamt

Of visions so free in their finality

So fragile, senses blur first

So eager, to be plucked

Out of a lineup

Or a dumpster…

                           …If this corpse has been,

 forever stained by

                           The sin in you.