i have posted this Halloween masterpeice before but just laetley I have empkloyed a sound engineer so that i can put my importent voice
i am have paid Terry the sound engineer £600 a day witch sounds like a lot of mulah if you dont know anything about the arts but you have to pay for quality as you with here when you listen to my latest opic.
TERRY IS A VETERAN OF THE MSUIC SEEN and tells me he been in lots of bands including Hawkwind
and Manchestre band Fall
[fall guy Mark Smith]
aswell as The Three Dungarees
(IKnow - who knew?!) hes very talented and versatile as you will here whe you listen to my gothic masterpeice, SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO HERE IT IS!
down to posteritity for future gernerations to listen to and lean from.
i am have paid Terry the sound engineer £600 a day witch sounds like a lot of mulah if you dont know anything about the arts but you have to pay for quality as you with here when you listen to my latest opic.
TERRY IS A VETERAN OF THE MSUIC SEEN and tells me he been in lots of bands including Hawkwind
aswell as The Three Dungarees
(IKnow - who knew?!) hes very talented and versatile as you will here whe you listen to my gothic masterpeice, SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO HERE IT IS!
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.
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.
The end.
credits
released October 30, 2019
poet Helene Butterfnut Squash Smithee
