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Oct 2022
and waxing poetic lip schtick adorned with moustaches

Swarthy, spooky, scary carved
pumpkin faces thickly materialized
out of thin air
as Halloween holiday loomed near
yes... just an innocently naive fickle kid,
who easily did scare,
attended Henry Kline
for 'most every year

elementary grade school
no matter I abided every rule
and colored within every line
turquoise blue favorite jewel
blackening every other tooth
affixing moustache, sideburns,
and beard upon every face kooky rule.

Nor, never stepped on sidewalk crack
to break mother's back
wonder who believes
such poppycock alas and alack
I haint superstitious
nonetheless steer clear of any black
cat, nor walking under any ladder,
especially on Friday thirteenth.

Fear made ordinarily wavy hair
poker straight stand on end
not a muscle I would bend
unfamiliar sounds, smells, and sights
tingling sensation along small hairs
spine - shiver me timbers would send
courtesy paranormal phenomena
this then lad could not comprehend.

To this day, no ghost of chance
finds your truly daring to partake of seance
essentially scaredy cat soiling mine
spongebob squarepants
skittish regarding supernatural realm
best play with Lincoln logs or tinker toys.

Dog bless those who search out
eerie sound and/or sight
or reed macabre genre
upon dark and stormy night
kudos to those talented
gifted, blessed... to write
blood screaming horror
stories, where adrenaline
spurs one to take flight

unwittingly, unquestionably,
unknowingly, unforgettably... right
into path of haunting spectre badlands
housing ghouls, ghouls, sprite
full hobgoblins spellbinding sight

lurk dark shadows at edge of night
shapeshifting costumed masquerade
zealously, thrillingly, blindly
looming larger in height
lumbering, lingering right

before me scenting how afraid...
desperado whose becomes white
as an albino - blood ******* vampire
sharp as razor fangs bared ready to bite

into tender warm succulent flesh
i.e. cannibal's delight,
yet try as I might
feeble literary effort ne'er achieved
to concoct witch's brew where fright
induces blood curdling scream,

thus much prefer to pen lame
lines, where skeletons make no bones
red dully underpaid gig employees game
to pocket chump change
with absolute zero intent to maim,
thus unlikely to devour thyself
or provide selfie before asking name

of groveling, mumbling, sniveling... alien,
a Dylanesque rolling stone
harkening from outer
limits of twilight zone
accursed series of unfortunate events

spirited as token "scapegoat"
penniless and unable to phone
home, a stranded extraterrestrial,
whose familiar turf grown
dragons holed in their dungeons.
Written by
matthew scott harris  64/M/schwenksville, penna
(64/M/schwenksville, penna)   
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