It was the eve of a black obsidian night
full purple moon and stars shone bright
  the howl of one lone wolf filled frigid air
damp cold mist needed down outerwear.

The screaming banchee's breath vapor
was noxious green befitting the caper
  of scaring all children by his loud noise
of trick or treating little girls and boys.

A massive link ink wrought iron fence
surrounds eerie mansion in suspense
  Frankinstein pushes thru spider webs
while a monster exercises quadriceps.

A ghost wanders in Cemetery's grave
and a pumpkin avoided an autoclave
  the doors began to creak very loudly
a Raven and Owl sang quite proudly

Slick sleek ebony crows sit atop a roof
while another swoops, soars like a goof
  do listen, you can hear their shrill echo
tombstone-songs by mummy's gecko


© Carmela M. Patterson

Don't try to understand me,
You'll only confuse yourself,
I don't fit in,
No mold can shape me,
I am a question mark on society,
I don't know myself,
So how can anyone else,
I am an oxymoron,
Quiet.
But still so loud in my approach,
Happy yet sad,
Hot yet cold,
I do not know myself..
So how can anyone else?
Sane,
Yet insane all the same,
Sometimes, I feel like there's parts missing from my brain,
A frankinstein...
A monster come to life.
Made of various parts,
Dead but alive,
Talk about myself?
You want to know who I am?
Where do I start...
During my creation I suppose God misplaced a couple of parts,
There are a few screws loose up top,
And slightly lower down,
Take a sharp turn to the left,
You will notice there is no rhythmic beating in my breast,
I am a Mona Lisa.
Unfinished, but there.
She was missing something,
And so am I....



My heart isn't there.