And pumpkin cider

A Happy Halloween
To every kid and tween
If you are on our street
Come by to trick-or-treat
While you eat our candy
We’ll be drinking brandy


Too much bedtime Lovecraft

Around midnight, I go to sleep
Into my dream, terrors do creep
Panic and fear begin to spread
There’s a creature under my bed!
His skin is red; his eyes are black
He’s giving me a heart-attack!
I cannot run, his filthy fists
Have grabbed my feet; he grabbed my wrists!
He’s the reason for my nightmares
I try to scream but no one cares!
Though I’m half-mad from all the fright
I thrash about with all my might
Then I awake, weak and weary
I’m soaked with sweat; eyes are bleary
My head feels strange and new to me
Was that a dream or fantasy?


It’s all together ooky

This may seem a little kooky
But I think it’s rather spooky
To see someone in kabuki
On a chartreuse green suzuki


Our werewolf is pretty hairy

Trick or treaters should be wary
Of our house; it looks real scary
While our candy is quite tasty
It might be a little hasty
To approach us for some candy
A good costume would be handy
So don’t even think of knocking
If your outfit isn’t rocking


Scariest poem evar!

The Raven
By Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore —
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door —
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you” — here I opened wide the door; ——
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!” —
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before —
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore —
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never — nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore —
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite — respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! —
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted —
On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore —
Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore —
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting —
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted — nevermore!


Pathfinder Adventure Card Game rules

There once was a girl named Seoni
Who recharged her spells quite easily
When faced with a foe
She sets them aglow
And lights them up like a Christmas Tree


Hummingbird haiku

Still, quiet evening
Just the flit of hummingbirds
And a red sunset


See you next year

Halloween’s near!
Pumpkins appear
This time of year
Though Jean will cheer
It may seem queer
I quake with fear
But do not jeer
Or look and sneer
This sounds severe
But I’m sincere
Let me be clear
My dread will rear
When it is here
I’ll disappear!


Stay classy Ben & Jerry

My ice cream belt gets one more notch
Ron Burgundy’s Scotchy, Scotch, Scotch
This ice cream has butterscotch swirls
And it’s enjoyed by boys and girls
If you’re like Ron from the tele
Eat it down into your belly
Two thumbs up from Brian and Champ
To quote Brick Tamland, “I love lamp”


Happy wombat day!

You would never think a wombat
Would be locked in cosmic combat
Way up high in a space station
Shooting with his Ultra Ray Gun
Asteroids that were on a course
To smash his ship without remorse
You would never ever think that
Would have happened to a wombat


Yo! That ain’t no crap!

Las Vegas is a paradise
For those who want to win a buck
At craps you roll a pair of dice
And hope the shooter doesn’t suck


Favorite ride at Dismal-land

The Haunted Palace
By Edgar Allan Poe

In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace—
Radiant palace—reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion,
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow
(This—all this—was in the olden
Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A wingèd odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute’s well-tunèd law,
Round about a throne where, sitting,
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch’s high estate;
(Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh—but smile no more.


Hidden haiku

Cat waiting to pounce
Hiding beneath the sage bush
Birds don’t have a chance


Help save the tatas

The color of the month is pink
It’s supposed to help boobs I think
If there’s one thing that I should do
It’s help save a tata or two


I’m so vain

White whisker removed from my beard
It was not plucked, instead I sheared
It looks and feels a little weird
But there’s no reason to be skeered
It’s not as bad as I once feared
Onto my face some dye was smeared
That which was gray has disappeared
And so I danced around and cheered


Double stuff your 8-ball

This is something few predicted
Lab rats are way more addicted
To Oreos than crack cocaine
According to the rodent’s brain
Though offered drugs they weren’t coerced
They eat the creamy center first
This just proves that sugar and fat
Are the real drugs – imagine that!


Stop this tea-bagging nonsense!

I hope there’s some dealing
To raise the debt ceiling
If they don’t get it done
The terrorists have won


This is not a jest

That tightness in your chest?
A cardiac arrest!
If you are feeling stressed
You need to take a rest
Life’s not a constant test
Just do your very best
Live life to the fullest
Make that your daily quest


Poor Poe

Annabel Lee
By Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.


D is for diabetes

Cookies and milk are sweet to eat
For a quick snack, they can’t be beat
Oreos and chocolate chips
Stick to your fingers and your hips


Coming out still matters

To my friends that are not out
You don’t have to scream or shout
But you can if you want to
You should do what’s best for you
Just know that you have a friend
Who will fight until the end
If you are not cis like me
Today is your destiny


Here’s to another 47!

Happy birthday to my brother Tom
We have the same dad and the same mom
For 11 months, he’s the oldest
That’s why for me, September’s the best
I’m a 9/9 and he’s a 10/10
That means he’s older than me again
We’re Irish Twins thanks to dad and mom
Happy birthday to my brother Tom


Same thing every night

You’ve been fed
Stupid head
Go to bed
Or you’re dead!


You never know what you’re gonna get

Though he exercised and ate Wheaties
Tom Hanks has Type 2 Diabetes
Why he got it needs further study
But sugar ain’t his Bosom Buddy


Jean does good

Along the center divider
Of the street, there was a turtle
Dozens of cars seemed to hurtle
Past the little red-eared slider
Jean stopped to rescue the reptile
He thought he was getting away
He couldn’t have run far that day
Each inch seemed to him like a mile
By himself, he was a loaner
Trying to leave his friends behind
His hopes of escaping declined
When Jean brought him to his owner


Tintinnabulation bitches!

The Bells
By Edgar Allan Poe


Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.


Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!


Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!


Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people- ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.


By his grotesque appendage

I dreamed of Cthulhu last night
The nightmare caused me such a fright
While sailing on the clear blue sea
His tentacles reached out to me
Caught between terror and panic
His pulpy head was gigantic
Part dragon and part crustacean
I cowered with trepidation
The horror would not go away
He ensnared me to my dismay
He dragged me screaming for a mile
Back to his Cyclopean isle
I struggled ‘gainst his slimy hands
And dwelled not on his ghastly plans
Doomed by this unholy kraken
I hoped I would soon awaken
Remarkably a new day dawned
My eyes opened and then I yawned
It’s over now, I’ll be all right
I dreamed of Cthulhu last night


Harvest haiku

Leaves are turning brown
And here on the Central Coast
Grapes are getting crushed


I need a Bloody Mary

Today I met a fairy
Playful but kind of wary
She wasn’t very hairy
But smelled like Boysenberry
Clothes crimson like a cherry
Wings delicate and airy
But strong enough to carry
A sprite so very merry
Attractive and not scary
Like Tinkerbell from Barrie
I hope someday she’ll marry
And live up in an aerie


He was a two bagger

There once was a man from Washington
Who never voted to get things done
His skin was so tan
Out of a spray can
He was an orange son of a gun


Your Uncle Sam is who I am

Do you like the man so tan?
I don’t like him Uncle Sam
I don’t like his stupid hair
He just doesn’t seem to care
I don’t like him in the house
Anybody but that louse
He’s dumb like a bag of rocks
He’s the color of a fox
His beliefs are so bizarre
He’s GOP like Babar
He helped shut down Ol’ D.C.
Then danced and shouted “whoopee!”
His tactics are so insane
He’s causing us so much pain
His bite is worse than his bark
Meaner than a great white shark
Why’d he have to crow and gloat?
I hope he gets a sore throat
He thinks this is the best way
He’ll see on election day
How he hates Obamacare
I don’t like him anywhere
I don’t like the man so tan
I don’t like him Uncle Sam

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