Wickedness

Wickedness, ingrained, hides beneath raw flesh
permeating spirits and the souls’ mesh
whatever’s on the outside is pure hash.
Withering inorganic pus, greenish,
rots away the vine. Not for the squeamish!
Think before you do; once begun … finish.

Whether skin or fur, rumblings shall occur
skin will wrinkle; animals shed their fur.
Outside deemed an angel, inside a cur;
staring into his eyes … fall in a pool.
Following behind him, I was a fool.
He hypnotized me, saw someone to rule.

Wickedness gets into the blood—oozes
raging in veins of those whom it chooses.
When wickedness raves ev’ryone loses
Nightmares and chills reign in October air--
vampires, ghosts, ghouls, werewolves—don witches’ wear
mount enchanted brooms to fly here and there.

Night of the undead better plan ahead
lest darts, tongues, slide down your throat … enough said.
Corpses, rotting, prefer an earthen bed.
Boos, barking, crackling rape hard the night.

Ghastly, ghostly things illuminate man’s plight.
All living things shall pass—evil, righteous.
Wickedness, ingrained, hides in hosts … a guest!

copyright 2004 Sandra S. Corona