muskadillo * dreaming

Grand prize awarded to Marie for this fabulous entry:

Stopping by the Dungeon on a Full-Mooned Midnight

Whose moans those are I think I know
He's strapped upon the rack, and so
He will not see me pausing here
While my back hair begins to grow.

My boyfriend, he must think it queer
To see the tufts upon my ear
He thinks this dungeon is a fake
A place to stir romantic fear.

But to this castle by the lake
I asked to go just for the sake
Of breaking up with Lying Creep
And then I'll eat some boyfriend steak

The forest's murky, dark, and deep
But I have havoc still to wreak
And wiles to try before I leap
Then miles to drive home in his jeep.

...and then there is this, too--a beautifully mutilated version of The Beatles' song "Yesterday:"

Leprosy

Leprosy
I'm not half the man I used to be
There are pieces falling off of me
Oh, I believe I've leprosy

Suddenly
Roller coasters are an agony
Lost my lips on Death Loop #3
The man behind me wasn't pleased

My left
leg escaped down the slope
on my left ski
Eyeballs
rolled away with my kneecaps
and my spleen...

Ironically
There's one part that still clings close to me
and that's my flabby little tummy
A cruel joke, this leprosy

Bring the
duct tape quick
My big toe
is trying to flee
If you need a chin
Take my spare ones;
I've got three...

I can see
the sad end that lies ahead of me
when my head falls off into my tea
don't laugh at me, it's leprosy

don't laugh at me, it's leprosy

You can listen to her perform it, too.



Runner-up prize awarded to Sharon-the-blogless for this entry:

Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a Hallow's 'een?
Thou are more creepy and more fully decked.
Sunny days do break the darkning skies so mean
And autumn's geese by vultures all be pecked.

Sometime too hot the wench or bunny dress,
And often is her caked complexion trite,
And every hair, so like a Playboy tress,
By chance? or year-long planning for this night?

But thy infernal ghoulishness shall reign,
Nor lose obsession, thou wouldst never do,
For Death and Gore are fibers of thy mane,
And in eternal hauntings, thou art true.

So long as men can scream, and wounds can bleed
So long lives Wynne, and she has done her deed.

More entries, in no particular order:

Elastic did a great Halloweenish prank post. Click here to read.



More poetry:

Baa Baa Grim Reaper,
Have you any souls?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full;

One for my master,
one for my dame,
and one for my mummy
that lives on my lane.

-Jen (also blogless)

Jack and Jill crept up the hill
to steal the banker's daughter.
The banker wouldn't pay
so Jack let her pray
as Jill held the girl under water.

-April

And since I promised I would post the rest when the contest was over, here's one of mine, in its disgusting entirety:

Mary Had Some Leprosy

Mary had some leprosy, leprosy, leprosy
Mary had some leprosy
Her sores were white as snow

Every time that Mary tripped, Mary tripped, Mary tripped,
Every time that Mary tripped
Off would fall a toe

Today Mary starts to bleed, starts to bleed, starts to bleed
Today Mary starts to bleed
We cannot staunch the flow

She bled until she turned so white, turned so white, turned so white
She bled until she turned so white
Now she's six feet below

and the very last, also mine: