Let me ease your burden
Beneath, an ancient terror sleeps
Within a crypt of endless night
Its casket dreadful secrets keeps
Its cape a shroud to life and light
No breath of air escapes its throat
No heartbeat drums inside its chest
Not dead enough for Charon’s boat
But of no mortal spark possessed
It stirs within its Stygian tomb
Mind reaching up to taste the sky
The sunlit world falls fast to gloom
The hour of dark ascension nigh
It rises from its coffin bed
Unfurls great bat wings, left and right
A feast of blood served warm and red
Will sate unholy appetite
With awful strength and not a sound
It rushes from the ghastly vault
Through passages far underground
Intent on murderous assault
Erupting from the darkened heath
It wheels and pauses in the air
Surprised to see arrayed beneath
Its human prey massed everywhere
In knots and crowds, all eyes upturned
They peer to heaven, motionless
Yet of the fiend they’re unconcerned
Transfixed by grandeur measureless
Too late, the creature turns to gape
With yellowed eyes upon its doom
In vain it races for escape
To Earth’s impenetrable womb
A sun-bright golden beam breaks free
A shriek of rage dies on its lips
It wasn’t night, but rather the
On Labor Day the working Joe
Can toil and industry forego
And lounge about the bungalow
An idler by decree
For me, a slacker head to toe
It’s been a yearly source of woe
That shirking work is only so
For he a worker be
I find employment wearying,
Attached to Boss Man’s apron string
Nor would I venture anything
On pure initiative
In winter, summer, fall and spring
Of my own indolence I’m king
The bum definitive
To lift does not appeal to me
I wouldn’t tote for any fee
Indeed, to stand would disagree
Lest I should break a sweat
To ride a desk would seem to be
An exercise in constancy
Two things I hope to never see
Not even on a bet
Fact is, no useful chore do I
Have any mind to even try
The public weal to fortify
My social debt to pay
And so when each September’s nigh
I loaf upon my couch and sigh
And wish I had a job to shy
By right of Labor Day
Returning to my desk one day
Encountered I a wee surprise
Upon the blotter sweetly lay
A candy heart before my eyes
HEY YOU it smiled, in letters red
A cheerful greeting, certainly
But what the morsel left unsaid
Was just who left it there for me
How wonderful! A secret friend
Anonymous and passing kind,
To thus my flagging spirit tend
And gently ease my weary mind.
For two days I did marinate
In fragrant broth of friendship true,
Ere word came from my candy-mate
In compressed sugar ME & YOU.
“Indeed,” thought I. “we noble pair,
United in camaraderie.”
But then SWEET LOVE ‘peared on my chair
And things went downhill rapidly.
Who was this amatory boor
Pursuing me with candied guile?
What awful passions lay in store?
What tooth decaying mash-notes vile?
When tasty KISS ME hit my desk
I filed a beef with Personnel.
BE MINE struck me as so grotesque
I called the state police, as well.
MY PET, SOUL MATE and YOU’RE SO FINE
Made every day a horror show.
ALL MINE and MISS YOU crossed the line,
And on their heels XOXO.
These days the office is a place
Of sniffing dogs and rent-a-cops.
My colleagues hate me to my face,
And still sweet torment never stops.
CALL ME a BABY if you will,
But ASK ME if I’ll see this through,
And to myself BE TRUE until
I find out who’s CRAZY 4 U.
A beacon from the firmament
A globe of fire in star-lit sky
An omen surely heaven-sent
To guide the wise to wonders nigh
“Our road leads west,” the kings agreed
“Our fortunes bound to yonder star.
With sturdy hearts and all due speed
We must away to lands afar.”
Assembling modest retinue
The learned three betook their quest,
Celestial pharos e’er in view
A burning purpose in each chest.
Across the plains of Samarkand,
And choking desert wilderness.
O’er gasping mountains toiled the band
Through regions strange and comfortless.
At last, upon a night divine,
Arrived they unto Bethlehem,
To there behold no stately shrine,
But rough-hewn stable waiting them.
“Praise to the Lord!” the wise men cried
“That in this humble place doth bide
Philosopher, exalted guide,
The child in whom all fates reside!”
At calm repose a newborn lay
Serene upon a bed of straw
Its mother rested steps away
The visitors approached with awe.
“Accept these gifts, Madonna Fair
For this, your Son of blessed birth,
We offer gold in princely share
To He who will bestride the Earth.”
“Rich frankincense, a treasure rare
Befitting Heaven’s champion,
And myrrh to sanctify the air
Surrounding this, our Holy One.”
The mother, clearly unimpressed,
Just took another bite of hay.
The child no gratitude expressed,
But bleated in an anxious way.
The Magi were confounded sore
Had they displeased the newborn king?
A shepherd boy rose from the floor
And said “You see guys, here’s the thing…”
“That gold and stuff is great,” he winked.
“For such as them what wears a crown,
But these are sheep. I kind of think,
You want the kid two mangers down.”
Tom Turkey was a thoughtful bird, and circumspect in deed and word
Yet in his feathered breast there stirred a grand ambition long deferred.
“We are too dignified a race to languish in captive disgrace!
We might a wider world embrace, if farmer’s fence we could erase!”
And turkey emperor he’d be, Tom often reckoned secretly
Who led his flock to victory and set the persecuted free.
He’d stalk the scratching yard by day, his warrior’s plumage on display,
And in the feeding sheds inveigh against their cultural decay
“No more must turkeys here inside this chicken wire bondage bide.
With strength and righteousness allied, we’ll rise in liberating tide!”
Tom forged his battle plans with care to catch the farmer unaware.
No quarter would commander spare in that most desperate affair.
The younger Jakes arrayed before, the older Toms a solid corps,
And in reserve those maids of war, determined Jennies by the score
With lightning speed the army struck. The gate swung wide – a stroke of luck!
Through breached defense they surged amok straight into waiting poultry truck.
Capricious are the winds of fate, as Turkey Tom found out too late,
No lord of sovereign Turkey State, but king of one Thanksgiving plate.