The gentleman in the velvet chair…

top-hat-eerie

 

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

The All Hallows’ Eve Ball…

Cats, rats and slimy toads
Get under my feet in these demon-filled roads
And spiders in sizes you don’t want to see
All seem to wait especially for me.
As carefully I pick my route through them all
Revolted as I am at these lowly thrall.

For I’m on the way to the Halloween Ball
Where werewolves and witches will all fill the hall
And we will make merry on All Hallows’ Eve
As blood from our victims we will relieve.
For I am as they are, accursed to roam
Showing only on this day in the late twilight gloam.

I was a man who researched into Vlad
The things that I saw, so evil and bad
And Dracula found me and drew of my blood
Yet e’en as a vampire I try to do good.
But this night is special and we all get to feast
I’m now just like they are, a blood-drinking beast.

©Joe Wilson – The All Hallows’ Eve Ball…2015

Trick or Treat, or worse…

Down the bead flowed
All the way to the ground
One of so many
And they fall with no sound.
He was scared of the noise
He sweated in fear
It ran from his bald head
It tickled in his ear.
Down to his chin
Then a fall to his chest
We’re nearing a private place
So we’ll skip to the rest.
It rolled down his thighs
Then behind both his knees
An unpleasant sensation
That does nothing to please.

Did I say – he was scared
He was scared of the noise
The howling like banshees
Of Beelzebub’s boys.
They come every year
There’s a knock at the door
And the children with menace
Say ‘This year give more!’

©Joe Wilson – Trick or Treat, or worse…2015