GREAT EXPECTATIONS

HAPPY HALLOWE'EN – SEE YOU SOON <3

 

“I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and hear the songs in my hands.”

 

- Francesca Lia Block, Dangerous Angels

 

Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkKKzTYIe3Q

MONSTER MASH – BOBBY “BORIS” PICKETT

 

A TALE FOR HALLOWE'EN

 

Haunted by the past

shadow weavers spin a grisly path

bloodshed ripened by the burning laughter

cackling; cawing birds with blackened plumage

sit amongst the great oaks circled like ancient stones

pondering; deliberating;

coaxing thoughts from secret innocent brains

spitting; spilling intestinal,

twisted columns like engorged worms

emerge from rounded tors

where tombstones fall in all their lost directions

point like arrows to distance lands

where once they came on voyages bound

for incoming tides; lapping

and supping like thirsty dogs worked on the lands

salting sea dogs; march like Marsh frogs; croaking;

encroaching in their hordes

green as slime from slurry pits

and stinking; stench invading nostrils;

hopping crops to miss the circles where creatures from

another realm have mystified the hoi polloi for centuries;

eventually the stories fell to urban myths

and historic notions hid the truth

that Hallowe'en is an intelligent invention;

an intervention to prevent our troubled pasts

from catching up on us and suffocating slowly all our pre-conditioned thoughts

and cognitive behavioural patterns,

yet still we seek the darkness on this, some say, sacred night

and others hide within their homesteads;

sprinkled salt to every step and window sill;

they sit in fear in dim-lit candlelight;

ready to be blown out at any given moment

when chance or fate brings strangers thereabouts

to wrap sharply on the knockers on their wooden doors

and as they shiver beneath the old iron bedstead

and scrunch their eyes tight shut;

a primal squeeze of distant recognition

springs sharply piercing to their memories

and all the compartmental little shutters laying dormant

within their harrowed minds; awaken now; stir times

from ancient burial grounds where stones rock in their cradles

deep beneath the earth;

disinterred they fall and crash like thunder;

splintering marble; splicing names and dates

that once meant something to someone,

now crumble as the dead rise up again

and those who knock on doors

come laughing like rag tag beggars seeking all you have

DON'T hide; that is the very worst thing you can do;

unlock your doors and beckon them inside

offer sweets and cookies; treats; avoid the tricking;

that trickery; magical menacing personified

they come with intent to rob your larder,

but better that than leave them all outside

for some of us it has no other meaning

than a little fun on one night of the year

but for others of us gathering on the hillside;

cloaked and daggered; hand in hand we bide

chanting words from long-lost civilisations

that sound so gutteral;

bitten by the wind and burning fire

we circle round and round it, cold and muttering;

giving thanks that we will all survive our ancestors

some of whom were burned here,

on stakes for all the villagers to see

will rise at witching hour;

between the hours of three and four's a given

and we will see them all again

and speak of all the ways of the now living

As witches we can make things far better or far worse

but the one thing we are good at is to curse

you'll find us often around the cauldron

stirring and talking generally in verse

a pinch of this; a pinch of that

it all goes in the pot

it simmers for a good long while

don't drink it when it's hot

but leave to stew

and know that you

will benefit from this broth

don't let greed be your guide

a little will suffice

a sip of this; a sip of that

Ah! Hallowe'en is so nice …

 

AP – Copyright remains with the author

 

Don't have nightmares!! Happy Halloween Everyone ; 0))

 

This is just one photograph!! A florists' window display and reflections.

 

Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission'

Done