H is for Heirloom

The sun is setting on All Hallows’ Eve

And here on the suburban heath

I watch what happens when horror walks masked

Through half-lit streets up to front doors.

Harmless tricks on family yards and hearth stones,

Boys in warm red hunting caps,

Young girls in pink making hearts beat nearby,

Costumes, homemade haunted houses

And hearing hounds howl to the hunter’s moon

 The horror lies here but hidden.

Housed in offices, homes and certain heads;

A havoc of hopelessness and hurt

“How?” we ask from hill fortresses of bones

Suits can’t clean the bloody stained hands

When knowledge of dire hunger demands haste

And we hearken not to a “Help!”

Just heeding the hum of dull screens and honks

Of car horns and heckling hedonists

Within hectic lives pursuing happiness

The hawthorn bushes and hedgerows

Wither before the coming hour of doom

When we will be heaved into wealth’s hecatomb



http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/2010/10/poetry-potluck-halloween.html

B is for Breach

Blood

But not yours

Blue and then red

Betokening some demise

Bleeding its slow fulfillment

Beers

Bubbling in streams

Brewed in stinking

Brim filled

Boilers

Blind

Boozers guzzling

Brews to forget the

Borrowed seconds

Built to one day

Burn out

“Burp!”

Build

Battle or

Break walls

But don’t let yourself succumb to

Beguiling fading substances

Blathering lies in your

Brooding fuzzy

Bilious

Brain

Blinders

By no means

Blot out the falling

Botched and jerking machine

Breaking down in slow-motion while

Bringing along its wretched

Bundle of

Beings

Blurs only obscure reality leading to

Bewilderment and a nervous stupor.

Beyond these patchwork therapies,

Betraying their half-willing slaves,

Bright lights or clean eyes

Behold the complex

Blend of pain and

Bliss in life

Breathing

P is for Pithy

Ah, this prevalent preposterous pretention once again:

People presuming to play the part of the Pardoner!

Please! Such pitiable perceptions perched on personal pride are pointless

They seemingly preach to prevent the pernicious poison prevailing;

While pervading the popular paltry position

Perhaps we Plebeians should pay no heed to the proverbial verbal pugilists

But the paralyzed patrons lack the prudence and puissance to perceive perjury

In the perverted parlance from pugnacious puss

Presently, the public that peruses this paradoxical poetic-prose grows perplexed

Yet they do not pursue the many paged publication that can penetrate the portents on this paper

This poor paradigm pronounces the pandemic of pessimism and passivity in this place

There is a privation of passion and proficient pondering pooled

The pedestrian pack proliferates only the pathetically plain perseverance of the pompous parasitic persona

Permissiveness! Parsimony! Promiscuity! Power!

The four pillars of our pallid plagued Parthenon

The putrefied potency of vacillating piggish peons

Per contra, there are some penitent and some pure

Some puerile and some the prey of the perfidious

For this parcel of pilgrims on the paths of perdition I will prescribe progress guided by Providence

And persuade toward pursuits more profitable than powder purposes that plummet under pressure.

Pick your party promptly because the periphery will not provide protection.


Sincerely,

F.L.