The gobble de gook monster on your shoulder
do we get wiser when we get older?
I remain stuttering mumbling
my mind rumbling
I can’t actualise or realise
I cannot translate between mind and pen
and even when
I try to speak my tongue drags across the words
like a flat tyre on a bike
I wish this gobble de gook monster would take a hike
but he’s a part of me like the stories I tell
and even hell
is something I can’t be without.
Do vampires get tooth decay?
Do werewolves get fleas?
Do zombies have to use prosthetic knees?
Do fairy tale princesses always say please?
Can witches have white weddings?
What do mummies have for their bedding?
Do Orcs have to shave?
Do angels ever misbehave?
What is a goblin’s average height?
And do ever they get tall?
Do giants ever start off small?
I’d like to ask these questions
If you have some thoughts or suggestions,
Please get in touch
My address is;
1 The Wizards tower
The circus mirrors gives her the shivers
Her lips begin to quiver
She hates clowns
and her frown
turns into bestial snarl.
her cheeks flash red
all she can think of is blood instead
Which she wants to eat
as her hairs stand on end
and are caught by electric instincts
her teeth become sharp and canine
and eyes shine an unnatural shade
as her body begins to rearrange
her spine tingles
her coccyx sprouting out of behind
A now wagging tail
Her feet bursting through her dainty shoes
her arms begin to flail
she is in shock but somehow it feels right
those clowns will get it
they will not live to regret it
growling at the mirror at her reflection
her skirt tearing at the seams
full moon screams turning into growls
then a howl
As her body is exposed
this is what the crystal ball
and fortune teller said
“when the moon becomes blood red
you will see what you are in the distorted mirrors and be fed”
As she smashes the mirror
drool dripping from her tongue and teeth
the werewolf released
from her human cage
to rage against those foolish clowns.
The radio booms on speakers
it’s enough to wake the dead
zombies re attach their heads
ghosts clammer for attention.
What’s this dissenting dismal story
breaking from the ordinary
it must be the radio news.
This towns a ghost town and we are out of sight
dead ravens take flight
like they have been reanimated by Edgar Allen Poe
the word nevermore repeated.
Disco lights dance in the dusty ghostly radio station studio
the presenter moves his skeletal hand
and slides the controls to the peak setting.
his voice a long forgotten recording
playing jingles old songs and adverts
for a town where no one is around…
The antique mirror which was your late great aunts
Stands before you and plants, an image in your head
A frozen image of woman not unlike yourself but with white pupils
Without an iris just a spot,like a dot of ink on a page
The image shimmers until all you can see is you again although you are feeling strange.
But you look again and your eyes have turned
White, your body your frame is racked with pain
As you feel nails break and black claws burst free of cuticles
You lose you balance and fall grabbing your stomach
You don’t know what happening an your terrified not just flummoxed
Panic sets in as skin and bone crack
Metamorphosis is not holding back
As your feet and talons burst through your dainty high heels
To reveal huge hideous monster toes and claws on show
Your legs are growing too not showing signs of slowing either
As your breaths become more and more sudden
You roll about the floor
Your clothes tear at the seams
You’re becoming a monster like in those horror movie scenes
Legs break and bend like an animal on tip toes
Your back arches and cracks as your spine shows
Then your spine extends as you scream
A tail has formed writhing and waggling out of control
Animal instincts start to take over your soul
Horns sprout from your skulls temple
As your screams become mental
Your teeth grow sharp your tongue extends
Your face becomes a muzzle you growl
You can smell every scent in the air
As your nickers tear
You howl a lustful howl as hairs stand on end
and grow into fur as you roar a beastly roar
Cursed you want more
Flesh lust and craving
No one is safe from your beastly self
We are all meat to you on a consumers shelf.