The Verse Thing You Will Ever Read (an Ungrammared Halloween)



All Hallow’s Eve in the Capital

At the end of ol’ October

Scary ghouls turned out, some laughable,

Most drunk and waiting for Uber.


In ev’ry yard there was a sign

Opining who’d least likely kill us

Under towering oaks (or in North Raleigh, pines)

‘Twas either Hagan or Tillis.


Creeps and twerps and miscreants

Came forth from below the ground

And caused us folks to all flee once

Or twice at their hor’ble sounds.


“What was that noise?” people looked through slats

At the ghoulish obscenity.

‘Twas the restless souls of gals and lads

Who fenced at UNC.


These ragged souls had had enough

Of the recent scandal du jour.

“We had to go to class AND parry and thrust,

Not get A’s for being 6’4!”


From behind these ghouls came Gelwood South

With new arrival hipster dudes

And into their smirky hipster mouths:

Aged Scotch on round ice cubes.


Little hats perched on their heads

And they upon their stools,

In pegged jeans, burly boots or throwback Keds

Tweeting about Google Tools.


Next in line were hysteric folk

Who preferred the name historic

“Don’t touch that house! James K. Polk

Once leaned on its columns Doric!”


‘Twas next a horrid mass of sinners

Who had defiled their eternal souls

By ruining countless family dinners

Taking brain-dead pushy push-polls.


Calling for Tommy B and Johnny Mac

And Hanchette and Gen’ral Gary,

These minions and political hacks

Were much more nuisance than scary.


This undead lot of soulless ghouls

Formed a rabble in the street

“The lines are always long at Poole’s,

It’s Stanbury for sous vide pig’s feet!”


This lot was out all night, it seems

Ending on a defiant note:

“We’ll run this town ’til 2016,

When dead folks can no longer vote!”

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