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“To the Victor!”

A deep and shallow breath

Crept low across the land

The graves whispered

The trees, they moaned

A strained and pitiful sound arose

From the recesses of my throat

Listen to the wind

Ignore the voices it carries

An abattoir of emotion

A tabernacle of love

Lies tattered in pieces

Scattered at your feet

A decaying of flies

Just a spider’s spoiled dinner

—David Allen

Happy Halloween!!

“Coming of Age: A Story of Abuse”

Late into the night

Just after the fight

Your head all bruised and bloody

You fix yourself upright

You’ll be coming home

To see that face that mother makes

When you muddy up her precious rug

Another unforgiven mistake

She lashes out at you

With a barbed and forked tongue

From far across the room

And you’ll know that you’re alone

And every little death

Reminds you of the next

And the rest is yet to come

Trombones playing

Your head is full and swaying

Bloated from the feast

The view of the street

From high up in the night sky

The moon, your only friend

Smiles down at you

A cherub’s crooked grin

Bringing tears to your eye

A deep foreboding sigh

And the stars begin to cry

—David Allen

“Inner Sanctum”

In light of the darkness

The sum of all fears

If Saturday night doesn’t bring you to tears

I put on a face to show to the world

I cut my eyes so I cannot see

These horrors that have haunted me

Look at the way it all turned out

See the world spin

Hear us all shout

Now is so much easier than before

I gather myself and walk through walls

Summer is over and it smells like Fall

The walls have ears and the windows have eyes

Conjuring spirits through my closed fingers

The ghost of you forever lingers

I can’t see you anymore

You walk with blood in the palm of your hand

Scorching the earth and staining the sand

Will you carry this weight in the valley of souls?

The children are leaving

Their bodies interweaving

All Hallows’ Eve belongs to the lonely

Hearts still beat to a funeral drum

Waiting for the night to come

The stars are there for the taking

They move just for you

Guiding everything you do

You can touch them with your bare hands

You can reach them in your dreams

If you only knew what it means

There are creatures that are stirring

In your muscles, your bones and soft sinew

Another fright begins anew

People are screaming

Faces turn and fold within

A seance is about to begin

A service for those so dearly departed

It starts at the stroke of midnight

What sights will stir about tonight?

An inner sanctum opens to you

You can hear those demons snarling

Oh, isn’t Hell just darling?

But on nights like these when the banshee screams

You‘ll still hear me growling

A cacophony well worth howling

—David Allen