Happy Halloween Everyone

 The Vegetarian Zombie

 

You say what?

There,
following you

so close behind.

Moaning his grief,

the torture of his mind.

His arms reaching out,

grabs like its mine.

Stiff he waddles,

each step a Frankenstein's.

He was born on the hollows,

of all weens night.

Just ate the candy,

diluting his thoughts of foresight.

Ragged complexion,

blackness of skin.

A mouth drools open,

for the sweetness within.

Sweetness the parasite,

was his constant friend.

A Mother's warning,

never heeded in the end.

Now hide if you can,

from his constant pursuit.

Learn he has,

the value of your vegetables

and fruit.

He raids your gardens,

at night he does.

Eating your veggies,

the rightful healthier buzz.

No longer the monster,

once sickened by sweets.

Invigorating lifestyle,

is his new bag of treats.

1800 Aussie Ghost Story

 

Outside flashes a rogue of weather,

made my wife and I band together.

Before the fire that keeps us warm,

we sit protected against the storm.

Holding my wife, my life,

while she plays that teary fife.

A visitor does call on this frightful night,

to plead my help in his awful blight.

I have been known to dabble in those cases,

where mystery in itself is the basis.

Hear my wife, my life,

while she plays that weary fife.

What brings you here to knock on my door,

in conditions one should surely abhor.

Appearance of a Specter was I to investigate,

and if not for the weather I would not hesitate.

Now listen to my wife, my life,

while she plays that dreary fife.

I say to you, sit my old friend and gentleman,

we will wait out the storm, here, while we can.

Take of my food and drink of my ale.

Listen to the music my betroth here wails.

So listen to my wife, my life,

while she plays that leery fife.

I do not understand your laugh so hearty,

you embarrass me, while here you “Starve the Bardies.”

How can you look at me with such eyes,

as crazed by my promise to your query you apprise.

Holding my wife, my life,

while she plays that eerie fife.

I consider it an insult in my home no less,

by the display you foster of your mindless jest.

Now you dare to declare I am mad.

A sad comment coming from you, a frighten man.

Hear my wife, my life,

while she plays that bleary fife.

He who sees the Specters flying about.

What nerve you announce that I say you flout.

I will capture those Spirits all.

Never again will those Ghost screech their cursed call.

Now listen to my wife, my life,

while she plays that teary fife.

What do you say, you clown of the untrue,

my wife has perished this past year of the flu.

Then who sits besides me that I hold so dear,

an apparition you say that I should fear.

No, listen to my wife, my life,

while she plays that leery fife.

Never could I lose one so close to me.

You will take your leave, no longer welcomed you see.

I promise dear, that you I shall never leave,

that fool thinks I'm mad since I will not grieve.

I'll listen to my Wife, my life,

while she plays that dreary fife.

Why would I live in a world without you,

gloom overwhelming, a heart with nothing to do.

So sit here I will, with the fires to stoke,

burning the house, to be as you, a whisper of smoke.

I must listen for my Wife, my life, while she plays that eerie fife.

"The Curse Of Being A Vampire."

I can come out,

Only in the darkened night.

I am treated frighteningly,

In someone's surprised sight.

My anguish inside,

Torments me to the bone.

Did I ask for this?

No, but I bare it alone.

I was bitten from the bite,

as cold as Winter's frost.

The life I had before me,

Gone now, all lost.

Why, with no heartbeat,

Do my eyes still see?

Why, with my mind still thinking,

I know it is not me.

Now run away from me,

Do not play the hero fool.

The smell of life within you,

sets my fangs to drool.

To survive in this plight,

I am forced to drink your blood.

Afterwards, the guilt of murder,

Hits me like a flood.

Once, I was a good man,

never committing a mortal sin.

Then why was I burdened,

With all of Hell within?

I did not ask,

To roam the night undead.

Given eternal damnation,

For my soul, can never mend.

I thought of ending my life,

Going over to the Church.

Not until I have my revenge,

Upon the Beast that I still search.

He is a Beast whose victims,

Never fail to die.

Their life is cut, so very short,

But their souls, are always free to fly.

Then why did he decide,

That I should be the one?

To decay in darkness,

Never seeing the light of the Sun.

So I will follow the path of death,

I must eat along the way.

Until I meet up with that Beast,

Some future fateful day.

Then I will destroy him,

There will be no more of my kind.

Because the thought of your blood inside me,

Creeps through both of our cursed minds!

This is,

Handing Out Candy This Year,

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and caldron bubble.”

- William Shakespeare -

 

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

 

Like what you are reading?

 

Sign up as a Follower,

or Set up my Blog

as your Homepage

on your Web-browser,

or Leave a Comment,

or a Suggestion,

and I will answer you in a Post.

 

Thanks for reading.