Halloween - a poem by helene Smithee

purple pictures

Let us away from mauve oneness and dabble in the apple blobbing recklesness that is the velveteen black and gothik purple of the anual festival of zombys and death that is halloween. 

Soon, it will be the whitching hour and we will be consorting with satan but only for a bit of fun. Kids will be learning knife skills hollowing out pumkins and suchalike. back in my day we only had turnups and it was a right effort to cut little faeces in them and sometimes we'd cut ourselves but it was fine because we didnt have comedy blood back then so it was all good for the effect. 

Some Christian people say 'NO HALOWEEN IS THE OCCULT YOU MUST NOT DO IT WEEJEE BOARDS ARE DANGEROUS' but i think all things in moderation its only a bit of fun.n Also, being an indigo child of the univers i know that we dont become ghouls when we die we go back into the celestial light -its the the water cycle but with light and our skellingtons just feed worms but we are not they - they are resudue of the physical world, not who we really are. 

So Remember - if you have been plagued by ugly teeth in this life, you will not be so when you return to the godhead. 

here is a fun poem about Halloween. 

Halloween

The melancholy pale maiden,

bloodless face of moon, translucent 
like a haunted ghost 

is she mestruating; 

does she even exist?

She cries sad, 

silver, glittery tears

glimpsing down onto the spooky, dark wood

atmospheric, swirling 

mist like gossamer 

envelopes the forrest 

like a hypnotic dancer

casting her spell 

on mesmerized menfolk

catches in drops 

in the webs of the deadly 

black widow bitterly waiting 

her lover and prey

a twig snaps!

and vampiric bats terrify, 

flitting their tanglous wings 


flapping fear into your silken, fair hair

a fox, a red gash, dashes out 

hurtling after wide eyed rabbit 

disturbed by the madness 

of mixamotosis 

bounces in the glint 

of his bulging dead eyes

a clock chimes: 

bong! bong! bong! bong! bong!Bong!

Bong! Bong! bong! bong! Bong! bong!

The midnight hour,

a time for witching, watching

the cauldron pots of spells cast

and disinterred corpses that dance

there dance macabre stealing souls

with their hard boiled egg zombie eyes

of those who have only half died

these evil doers will knock on your door

steel you away

and eat out your heart

this is no trick or treat; no time to be weak

keep you cricifix near to stave off your fear

and pray for the asylum of sunlight to come soon.

angel pictures

while in the distance you hear 
the blood curdling howl 

of the she wolf,
 as she is mated with the werewolf possessed and 

watched by the goat head

of the lord of all eveil.

Jesus, please help us.

i love grandma pictures

The end.

  Copyright helene Smithee 2012

i have added the audio in the future 2019 see it down there.