An Alternate Universe

“There’s a monster neath my bed
Just go and have a look
There’s a monster neath my bed
Reading my favorite book

He’s creepy and he’s ugly and
He’s got a million eyes
He waits for me to fall asleep
Then he’ll eat me alive

There’s a monster neath my bed
Believe me when I say
So just please go and have a look
And make it go away”

And so I went and had a look
Though I did not suspect
It seemed as if that boy of mine
Was very near correct

For though a monster sitting there
Was just what did appear
He was kind of pathetic as
His body shook with fear

I said “You are a scary thing
A horrid evil sight
Shouldn’t it be me not you
Who shakes with dread and fright?”

His million eyes did look at me
And he let out a yelp
And then he sidled up to me
And said “I need your help

They said no harm would come to me
I’ve clearly been misled
Cause don’t look now but there’s a boy
On top of my bed.”

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The Hellish Halloween

The bedroom’s dark and I lay flat
Dare not so much as flinch
Afraid to blink afraid to breath
Or move even an inch

My mind scans the front entrance that’s
Equipped with many locks
But still I doubt it holding up
To their ferocious knocks

But not a move I’ll try to make
I’ll have to trust the door
And will my body to become
Yet flatter to the floor

But despite my best attempts
The knocking is persistent
And as the minutes creep on by
It becomes more insistent

And I can only pray my body
Will remain in limbo
Till horrified I hear them tapping
At my bedroom window

Zombies, monsters, werewolves all
Emit collective groans
And eerily they do beseech
“Is anybody home?”

I want to scream, I want to run
Yet it takes all my will
I will not give myself away
I’ll remain lying still

My head lifts not to see the clock
But silently I pray
The hand will reach the hour soon
And they will go away

But as I wait a frenzy hits
The noise begins to swell
I wonder what I could have done
To save me from this hell

Something to avoid this mess
On Halloween’s next date
And so it does occur to me
Sorry to say too late

But in the future to become
My modus operandi
A sign that says ‘I’m sorry but
We have run out of candy’.

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Mother

She always hated that picture
It wasn’t very good
I kept it by the bedside lamp
And that was where it stood

I told her it’s cause it was one
Our dear old dog was in
Sentimental reasons all
And much to her chagrin

But when she nagged and she called me
A stupid worthless cow
I saw revenge was mine to take
I knew not when but how

And when she asked me why it was
I never did get married
It was that picture that kept me
From getting tense and harried

I looked into the face that showed
The signs of her exhaust
The eyes were out of focus so
They seemed just a bit crossed

The way the camera angle was
So it seemed to distort
Her figure so her hips were wide
And legs were way too short

I noted roots that showed through gray
Before I went down for
The lovely ritual that was
Our nightly pedicure

Now she’s dead and gone you see
I’m blissfully alone
By complications of a toenail
Fatally ingrown

And now it seems there’s just so many
Duties to fulfill
Notifying relatives The
reading of the will

Whether it’s cremation or
Perhaps she will be buried
And a picture to submit
For her obituary

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Chopstick Killer

Some people use a gun, an axe
A rope or an ice pick
I swear this mutha does it with
A super sharp chopstick
So you best just watch your back
When you’re in place remote
Because it’s sharpened like a pencil
And it’s coming for your throat
And he’ll jab you and he’ll stab you
Like you’re moo goo gai pan
Cause he’s the chopstick killer
And he’s on the lam

We’re not sure of his sex and
We don’t know his persuasion
We’re not even real sure
If the Mutha f**kers Asian
He don’t need no stiletto and
He ain’t totin’ no uzi
But he marks his territory with
A tell tale piece of sushi
And he’ll jab you and he’ll stab you
Like you’re moo goo gai pan
Cause he’s the chopstick killer
And he’s on the lam

And he’ll put it in your eyeball
And he’ll put it in your brain
And he’ll fry you in a wok
Like some beef chow mein
And he’s illin’ and he’s killin and he’s
Meetin’ his quota
And he makes his getaway
In a souped up Toyota
And he’ll jab you and he’ll stab you
Like you’re moo goo gai pan
Cause he’s the chopstick killer
And he’s on the lam

A bit of ridiculousness for your Monday brought on by a conversation with my son about what kind of serial killers we would be.

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The Ring Pt. IV

The darkness now enshrouds my home
I sit there watching all alone
For what will be revealed to me
By eerie glow of the TV

But if it’s true I’ll find the worst
Whether I am to be cursed
By a fate I soon will know
That comes via the video

The image then becomes erratic
And soon disappears to static
A shiver running down my back
The monitor turns evil black

A vision that can’t be unseen
A ring that forms upon the screen
I’m helpless from what will befall
The phone emits it’s fatal call

A hoarse voice whispers out the phrase
Menacingly “Seven days”
Frozen to the spot with fear
I scarce believe what I did hear

Stare at the vessel of my message
As if it is some sick appendage
And suddenly I’m running free
To find out, can it really be?

My heart beats in a nervous rage
Consulting the calendar page
And then I find out that it’s true
My movie’s a week over due.

Thanks to my son Jesse for inspiration on this one and so many of the other horror themed poems I’ve been writing this month!

Lecter’s Litany

Life’s really been no fun at all
Since lowering my cholesterol
It seems a very paltry reason
For one like me to switch to vegan

When menacing I say “Hey mister
Watch it or I’ll eat your sister”
It just is not the same you see
When said to stalks of celery

And organ eating’s a sad joke
Reduced to hearts of artichoke
And I will miss the crispy zest
That’s only found in human flesh

Which pales so in comparison
To a peach’s tasteless skin
They say potato’s too have eyes
But I find them quite bland and dry

And miss out on the unique pleasure
Digesting all the gooey texture
Of what was staring back at me
But now I’ll do with broccoli

And sadly there’s no vegan platter
Substituting my gray matter
Nothing pleases my digestion
Like a rack of large intestine

So I will bemoan a fate
Of what’s a much less gory plate
And have to settle for mixed greens
With chianti and fava beans

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The Bride of Frankenstein: An Alternate Ending

As lightening struck they gave me life
Assigned me as his loving wife
I had thoughts but no words were there
(and WTF’s up with this hair?)

I screamed I hissed I made him mad
But really he was not so bad
If only just a bit less green
Yet it made for an ugly scene

But in the end my only gripe
Was that he was just not my type
And maybe they’ll know for next time
I’d have preferred a Fran K. Stein.