The cauldron bubbles and sputters and pops.
Odors from a foul witches' brew
Fill the mansion. It's called the Nightmare
On Pennsylvania Avenue.

A ghoulish warlock babbles gibberish,
Spreading deceit, anger, and fear.
He summons his lackey ghouls to his chamber.
They bow to the ghastly profiteer.

Their incantations reverberate
Through the rooms and down the halls.
The din stifles the voices of reason
And bounces off the windows and walls.

Witches assisting the grisly assembly
Grovel and spew nonsensical chatter,
While friendly ghosts, horrified,
Grab all their belongings and scatter.

The leading warlock raises his staff
To silence all the ear-piercing shrieking.
"Our work here has barely begun,"
He shouts, "in a manner of speaking.

"We have a lot more poison to spread
To circulate anxiety and doubt.
All we must do is stir the ***
To give them something to worry about.

"Fan the flames of division and discord.
My techniques are tried and true.
Keep 'em guessing; then you've got 'em.
And then you cater to the chosen few.

"We have more rivers to poison,
Coastlines to alter, lands to sell,
Coffers to fill, coffers to rob,
And voices to quiet. Welcome to hell!"

The glowering sycophants dance and cheer--
Thirsty for blood, eyes agleam.
"Dishonesty is the best
Policy," they fervently scream.

Oh, it's a frightening Halloween night
When one's worst nightmare comes true:
The gruesome, macabre, spine-chilling Nightmare
On Pennsylvania Avenue.

-by Bob B (10-31-18)