And here I sit amidst this pall
As I await the fools who call
They enter down my bone-strewn way
To find it’s their last earthly day.
And such surprise upon the face
When first they look upon this place
For I am sat like gentle man
Soon mesmerised, they’ll wish they’d ran.
The axe comes up to strike them down
Their rashness draws from me – a frown
And see my face they never do
For all I show is shadowed hue.
And from this chair I make them grieve
I welcome in All Hallows’ Eve
From here I dispatch young and old
And any fool who’s feeling bold.
The axe comes down and heads fall off
They never scream nor even cough
For so entranced are they by me
The axe that chops they never see.
So venture not into such places
Filled with now dead haunted faces
For you may soon yourself join them
As heads dis-join from spinal stem.
©Joe Wilson – The gentleman in the velvet chair…2016