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Phantom File Cloak of Truth
Edited by: Icky the eyeball scratcher
Steer clear of the dark, spooky times
Are near and thus withers are those
Things that scare us the most, but let’s
Not dwell too heavily on such matters
For now and instead, concentrate on
Candy and cakes, sugar bats, frosted
Frogs and delicious grave diggers
Belly buttons dipped in beetroot juice.
On the point of grave diggers, these
Poor souls must be quite annoyed when
Once a year all their work is undone and
The dead rise from their resting places to
Walk amongst us giving the witches aloft
On the same night a run for their money.
A night, when there is much to be said
For the company of friends, particularly
When enjoying a long walk in the dark
Dank woods of desperate misgiving or
Some other cobwebby destination best
Avoided such as; basements, dark alleys
Bedevilled lanes near ancient graveyards
And abandoned churches long-lost of
Their God.
From out of the trees at considerable
Speed, came a candle, two bats and
A frog, a spit-angry owl still out on the
Prowl, flew low to ask ‘what’s going on?’
The candle spoke first in carbonized
Verse, soot black, not a match within reach,
The wick and the wax had a panic attack,
‘Wot! No light on All Hallows’ Eve?’
The bats felt the same as they huddled
In shame, not as brave as they’d like to
Pretend, nor a night to be out with witches
About, in the dark, on your own, without
Friends.
The frog had good reason to avoid
Hallowe’enin’, its entrails a vampires
Delight, its guts and its gizzard are
Eaten by wizards, with eyeballs and
Cold spider tripe.
Leg of frog, lung of bat, coffin’ liquor,
Half a glass, dead man’s dentures,
Tongue, and spleen, pint of blood,
Increase the heat, bring to boil, add
Warts and worms, simmer gently,
Cool and serve.
© Joseph G Dawson