2009 Survivor Bonus Round Challenge #10: Halloween.

Lauren Hynde

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A few days ago, I visited a town in northern Spain, called Santiago de Compostela. Pre-Roman legends, possibly Celtic, made it the place where the souls of the dead gathered to follow the Sun across the sea. Those unworthy of going to the Land of the Dead, were left behind to haunt the entire region. Unsurprisingly, this town has a very long tradition of celebrating All Hallows' Eve - the scary version, not the one with candy apples and pretty little princesses.

For this Survivor Bonus Round Challenge, your mission is to write a poem on a form of your choice, as long as it portrays a genuinely scary Halloween night. Give Goethe a run for his money.

You don't need to be participating in Survivor to take this challenge. If you are participating in Survivor, for your poem to be eligible for points under the Special Bonus Rounds heading, it needs to be submitted to Literotica.com and be posted between 10/07/2009 and 11/04/2009.

Feel free to use this thread to workshop this challenge, to banter about this challenge, to post links to your submissions to this challenge, and to give your opinion on poems submitted to this challenge.
 
Buchhaltertanz
Und unten zerschellt das Gerippe.
—Goethe


The last day of October, that day 31,
A most fateful day for me.
There answered, I must, for their cost overruns,
Like those prostitutes (Aye, aye, me!),
For capital misused in mysterious ways,
Like batik shower curtains and dental inlays.
Hey! It's billable hours! I was thinking.

Their receipts are a mess. As accountant, I'm game;
I'll conceal these scandals they fear.
Their excuse is excuse. However so lame,
They're plausibly left in the clear.
So I footnote embarrassing expenditures
While recording those analysts owed sinecures
At high salary, for their consulting.

The clock ticks over twelve. I hear the soft creak
Of my honesty, or my remorse.
Or perhaps some odd demon, now come to release
My mortality like champagne cork.
An office is still in the night. Always dark.
I won't finish this audit, because I've embarked
Into Nowhere, where No Thing knows Thinking.


.
 
The Night Wears A Sombrero

Don't whisper tainted secrets in the dark
just watch. Watch this lesson and learn
the unfathomed depths of depravity
as unwary souls screech and howl,
while the Lord of Night salivates
venom on a writhing virgin's skin.

Muscles slough from bone and skin
bursts from rot. Shadows in the dark
flit past bolted doors and salivate
in hunger; an education now to learn
torment waits below. Ignore the howling
gusts of a godless night's depravity.

A thrust of turgid cock, symbol of depravity,
ruptures hymen leaving blood red on skin,
innocent no more. The despoiled howls
not to mourn, but in frustration in the dark;
left in chill despair. Tonight innocence learns
that before vomit, mouths salivate.

Don't stare into the maw, the fangs salivate
to gorge on flesh so ripe as rouses depravity
and need inside long dead chests. Learn:
to tease is to find deep rents through skin
so fragile here in autumnal dark.
No wonder Hallow's Eve fills with angry howls.

To greet November death; not cries but howls.
In the hollows, the barren crone drools and salivates
frosty age upon the coming winter dark.
Hearts tire; to know of such depravity
that winter's sleep makes uneasy nights, to learn
a season of rest only numbs the pain inside bruised skin.

The cruel touch of death's hand flays skin
off sinner's souls. Plugged ears deny the howls
as a mother denies the pain of birth to learn
the scent of newborn breath. Greedy demons salivate
upon the lintle to drag love off into depravity
Don't allow the night to make even tomorrow dark.

In evening shade, witches salivate and wait eagerly for dark
and wicked wantons learn comfort in night's skin
and anticipate depravity with gleeful squeals and howls.
 
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