Post by thefleetsin on Sept 27, 2021 20:00:18 GMT
the witch's hollow
follow me
down the blood-raked path
where hansel
lost his gretel lass.
where many
are the souls of those,
left cast out here
in devil's cold.
for if we are to find the key,
this stumbling block
to eternity.
we must be vigilante to death,
for in witch's hollow
lies her nest.
you've seen the signs left at your door;
a ravens egg,
wing bat, and more.
she's on the prowl again
you see,
it's life and limb or death to thee!
you take the high
i’ll scrape the low,
ring out the bushes as we go.
she can’t be far for there's her place
that cabin
with the grimy lace.
let’s look around before she's back,
we'll see
if we can scent her track.
for
which direction
she comes from
could save us all from kingdom come!
what find you there outside the door?
it's vats a fat a bubblin’ sure!
and look
that's me old mother’s tin
the one she kept her dentures in.
and over there your sister’s dress,
she won’t be needing that
i guess.
but where be bones and skulls of these
who witch
has churned down to the knees?
there’s more than trouble
brewin’ here
for i can see the ghastly air.
there she blows like dave jones!
come back to roast our very bones!
if it isn't the whole village square,
come over to inspect my wares.
see anything you like my friends?
perhaps the drippings i could rend?
or dear departed's rosaries
make fine wind chimes off willow trees.
or shoes for i have many pair,
i've even filled the trough with hair.
so let’s get down to business then
for witch's work it never ends.
you’re not the first and won't be last
of spells i'll mumble out when cast.
for i been workin’ overtime
limpin’ 'round your humble shrines.
those places you call home you see,
i left presents there for all of thee.
but since you were the timid sort,
i pulled a spell of last resort.
and purified your water wells
with ashes of the ones who fell.
before my dark and boding door,
those who came in for the cure.
or stopped by just to say hello,
not knowing what makes witch’s go.
yes that's when glory came to me
this plan of meat and greet with glee.
for it was i that bade to you
if i could have a drink or two.
from your own precious water wells
i dipped right in and left a spell.
three parts water one part ash
of loved ones who already passed.
that's how i brung the rest of thee
to me humble home in graver’s tree.
you thought your courage brought ya here?
it was me leg the one right here.
for witchs hollow's no place you see,
it's here between me thigh and knee.
i carry 'round the pestled ash
of bodies i burn in the trash.
for i pick apart the bones i do
as they rise up in human stew.
grind ‘em down and pour ‘em in
me hollow leg's your next of kin.
so jump right in for it's your turn
to sizzle as me cauldrons burn
the fat away from off your bones
for witch's hollow be now your homes!
sjw 10/01/09 inspired by the coming of all hollows eve and kiddies everywhere who learned over time that it be better to take your treat than be askin’ for a witch’s trick.
from the ‘bewitched series’ of poems.
follow me
down the blood-raked path
where hansel
lost his gretel lass.
where many
are the souls of those,
left cast out here
in devil's cold.
for if we are to find the key,
this stumbling block
to eternity.
we must be vigilante to death,
for in witch's hollow
lies her nest.
you've seen the signs left at your door;
a ravens egg,
wing bat, and more.
she's on the prowl again
you see,
it's life and limb or death to thee!
you take the high
i’ll scrape the low,
ring out the bushes as we go.
she can’t be far for there's her place
that cabin
with the grimy lace.
let’s look around before she's back,
we'll see
if we can scent her track.
for
which direction
she comes from
could save us all from kingdom come!
what find you there outside the door?
it's vats a fat a bubblin’ sure!
and look
that's me old mother’s tin
the one she kept her dentures in.
and over there your sister’s dress,
she won’t be needing that
i guess.
but where be bones and skulls of these
who witch
has churned down to the knees?
there’s more than trouble
brewin’ here
for i can see the ghastly air.
there she blows like dave jones!
come back to roast our very bones!
if it isn't the whole village square,
come over to inspect my wares.
see anything you like my friends?
perhaps the drippings i could rend?
or dear departed's rosaries
make fine wind chimes off willow trees.
or shoes for i have many pair,
i've even filled the trough with hair.
so let’s get down to business then
for witch's work it never ends.
you’re not the first and won't be last
of spells i'll mumble out when cast.
for i been workin’ overtime
limpin’ 'round your humble shrines.
those places you call home you see,
i left presents there for all of thee.
but since you were the timid sort,
i pulled a spell of last resort.
and purified your water wells
with ashes of the ones who fell.
before my dark and boding door,
those who came in for the cure.
or stopped by just to say hello,
not knowing what makes witch’s go.
yes that's when glory came to me
this plan of meat and greet with glee.
for it was i that bade to you
if i could have a drink or two.
from your own precious water wells
i dipped right in and left a spell.
three parts water one part ash
of loved ones who already passed.
that's how i brung the rest of thee
to me humble home in graver’s tree.
you thought your courage brought ya here?
it was me leg the one right here.
for witchs hollow's no place you see,
it's here between me thigh and knee.
i carry 'round the pestled ash
of bodies i burn in the trash.
for i pick apart the bones i do
as they rise up in human stew.
grind ‘em down and pour ‘em in
me hollow leg's your next of kin.
so jump right in for it's your turn
to sizzle as me cauldrons burn
the fat away from off your bones
for witch's hollow be now your homes!
sjw 10/01/09 inspired by the coming of all hollows eve and kiddies everywhere who learned over time that it be better to take your treat than be askin’ for a witch’s trick.
from the ‘bewitched series’ of poems.
