Pass the pumpkin, the chocolate, the fun,
The lies of danger  should be over and done.
One family  did it to their  own and  just once
sure  they faltered, history shows,
But tonight the laughter in every street grows.

One girl, once
a story twisted till now, her family the foe, no one else involved anyhow
Caught in a lie that everyone seemed to know.
Not strangers , not once not ever.
Just one poor  family that wasn't that clever.
No one hiding  in shadows, not monsters in the dark,
But blood-bound kin,
their hands left this mark.

Hospitals have known, urgent care has seen,
The truth of Halloween is far from mean.
Safe, joyous, mischievous, costumes that gleam,
The streets belong to witches, to pirates, to dreams
Fun and silliness careless  youth and recorded  screams.

An urban legend  got demonized an blown out of proportion
safety and the love for our kids  twisted through  the  telephone game lens  and added distortion .

Its just not true !
I happily did all the research for  you.
No records of admittance
no insurance claims
no weirdos  doing bad stuff anyone can actually name
or  blame.

There never were ANY bad  treats

just A bad horror story repeated on every neighborhood street.

All hospitals keep an accurate ledger, even backwoods halls,
Even Appalachian urgent care, has no  documented calls.
So dress up,  go out ,  hit up the streets and the malls
Put the fear back in the costumes where it belongs
let em bob  for  apples and sing silly songs.

Before the jack-o’-lanterns glowed in autumn night,
Before ghosts and goblins gave the town such  a fright,
Records stood silent, precise and unbending,
No claims, no apple admittance
no illness or bad will not then,  not now,  not ever
no children’s lives were ending.
Just more 80's satanic panic
the buzz **** un ending
its a hollow lie and not worth defending.

So stop the fear-mongering, the horror tales  grown stale,
Let kids run laughing,
let candy prevail.
There never have been any  poisoned chocolates
no apples that killed,
Just friends in the night, chasing thrills
and the  thrilled.
Buckets full of love and fun to be
filled and then spilled.
Hoarded or traded
at school  so  proudly coveted or paraded.
Trick or treat indeed
its the good time we all enjoy and need.

This is the  truth easily verifiable
so let em have fun
and it IS  
FUN
undeniable.
  Happy Halloween   go out and  enjoy  it .
Spread the truth, not fear and unfounded lies
give love and receive love
and enjoy a surprise .
HAPPY HALLOWEEN  !!

.

How distant do you feel from our ideal life,
and how hard are you willing to go, to get there?
You’ve got to pull a big swing sometimes, to get there, you know?
You’ll flourish in the aftermath.
What I’m carrying is joy.

Notes for an American student in Paris..

Be less intense
tone it down
pullback.

Enough scrappiness, hustle,
and intensity on repeat.

Sure, honesty is sanity,
but give them a better version
some ‘church girl’ energy, maybe.
win ‘em with winsome

Don’t welcome them, immediately, into your tense, inner world.
.
.
Songs for this:
Oh Honey! (I Love You) by Peach Tree Rascals
Nothing Breaks Like a Heart (feat. Miley Cyrus) by Mark Ronson
Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution) by The Bangles

This didn’t happen overnight,
pushed all boundaries out of sight.
Don’t know their next step but it can’t be right.
Their grubby hands covering your eyes,
wicked tongues whispering blatant lies.
No confirmation for their alibis.

If a group of like minded people
can storm the Capital why not a steeple?
A sanctuary that’s built for predators.
For those who stormed Capitol Hill
why can’t they now go in for the ****?
Maybe too busy running from creditors.
I’m just so annoyed with the American void.

So many questions all over a vote;
they tried to mutiny like on a boat,
but now not asking why there’s no note.
With all those riots that were in the street,
willing to take a bullet or join the line to be beat,
no asking why someone special got an extra sheet.

If a group of like minded people
can defeat police then why not the bald eagle?
Just another symbol for freedom and justice’s joke.
For those who stormed Capitol Hill
does it not drive you crazy to now stay still?
Maybe too distracted by the war of Pepsi vs Coke.
I’m just so annoyed with the American Void.

If people can go missing why can’t files,
same with pedophiles and certain isles?
It’s funny how they gave away,
the ones we already knew what they’d say.
If people can go missing why can’t files,
same with pedophiles and their trials.
It’s funny how they gave away,
the records of JF & ML K.

Apparently there’s a minute missing every night
I guess we know when the time to strike is right.

The devil is sitting at a table
make sure to provide top service,
and if you are somehow able,
hide that his aggression makes you nervous.
When the White House is just a smidge too white,
it might be time for us Canucks to pull a 1814.
How can someone do absolutely nothing right?
and think what will be a nightmare will help revive an American dream?

The devil is sitting at the desk,
and he’s got yes men to shine and kiss his shoes.
It was finally time for him to fail a test
but his misguided cultists refused to let him lose.
When the White House is just a smidge too white,
even if the occupant is known to be orange.
He’s shutting the gates just too tight,
rushing Capitol instead of tearing his door hinge.

The devil is sitting at a table
he’s got the finest cutlery set,
and the legs of it aren’t stable
with each wobble he places his next bet.
When the White House is just a smidge too white,
I think it needs to be stripped and gain a new coat.
Why is a symbol of oppression dressed up so bright,
when it’s walls protect one and strangle every other throat?

He “did everything right” and they indicted him;
and now we fight eachother when we should be fighting him.
These people have forgot how the world turns,
infact they believe it’s stationery and around them.
So they anticipate heat when they make the world burn,
and await a rose after they rooted and snapped each stem.

Isn’t it absolutely insane
how the free can unknowingly live in a prison?
Didn’t anyone tell you even a Hurricane
can’t cleanse American Capitalism?

For you,
I feel an ancient yearning
Baked into my bones
A cosmic ache-
A prehistoric hunger-
A primitive pining

Yes,
It’s a supernatural connection—
Mine and yours—
A rest-the-vessel,
Let-the-tides-guide,
Sacred sort of love

Because betwixt us,
There is a longing
Only the moon
No — only god, herself  
And all her sapphic sovereignty
Could resist

There is a glowing desire
So fervent within us
That I wish I could reach into your Heavenly Body
And pull out your stars  
And thread them into the nest of my womb

An immortal, galactic romance—
Ours is—
Fit for gallery halls and poetry readings
And woven with all the glittery things  
But it’s Roommates, they’ll call us
Roommates, reads our plaque

Roommates—
Not lovers, nor sweethearts
Not partners, nor darlings
No lust
No lore
The saga of us, enduring no more

Celestial stains and divine shame
Roommates, we’ll remain
So we’ll guard this holy matrimony,
We’ll let our lovers’ anthem die
We know the truth is in the stars
We know who lives a lie

our thoughts are cradled like an unexperienced parent.
our willingness to be in each others work.
to watch is to live. to live is to watch.
films speak more on how we see our worth to
others...
maybe it's the other way around.

the campus is giving 90s teen drama.
motion pictures is why we are
here.

i am the star.
no, is she. or is he. wait, it's
all of us...

it's the thought counts. it's the frames that
count. it's the thoughts that dictate the rate.

the obligation expands as some of the angels cry over
us. protecting the rest.

some scream like the students in 'cleaners'.

does the comedy make us think? or cry instead in the
seats of  
cine lawan --

Me, [insert your name here], a filmmaker. we all win
an award or two. some of us do.
we still keep creating.

my thoughts hold me in a loose trance. dancing with
me in the heat -- walking
with me the rain.

the white lady - i mean ghost- must have stopped recording since
we can here our voices again.


is the world even gonna end? says a fragile student
two rows in front of me. their back facing her
front.

it's giving blue and hidden in the dark. illuminated
by the works of art.
cinema. it's films. movies.

that a big reason i'm alive.
it's a reason to continue
even if there is not a quick
fix to life.
films give us life. or is it
the other way
around?

as the filmmakers desends into madness -
i mean their seats,
they soak the experimental footage,
red dirt sprinkled everywhere in
a ditch--
one weeps and the other takes a shot
for a share later.


everything happens because we filmed it.
thought it. cast it. documented. recorded.
edited.
distributed.

a feedback loop.

we think we know how the plot will unfold.

i see the colors from the projections even
as i look ahead. Still. Here.
I am still here as
my thoughts-

I don’t think justice is sweet-
not real justice anyway.

It’s not like a birthday cake,
baked with love, shared with joy.

I think revenge is sold to us as sweet-
the beautiful, perfectly decorated cake we bought from the shop’s window
But one bite in and you realize:
There is no sweetness only salt
And curdled milk

I think justice is communal
For the greater good

For true justice
we must change the way we think.
Not just for me, but for we
For the whole community

So how can justice be people locked in cages
Making slave wages
How is that good for community.
Parents ripped from their children
Mothers’ children stolen
locked away

Not learning how to do better
Be better
Stripped of the lessons from the mother
Taught they are less than human
Treated like zoo animals
Rounded up like rats
Unearthing the secrets of what curdles the milk

How can justice be sweet when this is the reality
Selling out my fellow humans for my right to
THE AMERICAN DREAM
But is it really a dream worth dreaming-
If it’s just for me and not for we

If this is justice
why is it so hard to sleep.
The spoiled cake sold in the bakery window
We’ve already taken more than a couple bite
Will we spit it out?
Or will we binge until we reek-
of salt and curdled milk?