Odors from a
foul witches' brew
Fill the mansion.
It's called the Nightmare
On Pennsylvania
Avenue.
A ghoulish warlock
babbles gibberish,
Spreading deceit,
anger, and fear.
He summons his
lackey ghouls to his chamber.
They bow to the
ghastly profiteer.
Their incantations
reverberate
Through the rooms
and down the halls.
The din stifles the
voices of reason
And bounces off the
windows and walls.
Witches assisting
the grisly assembly
Grovel and spew
nonsensical chatter,
While friendly
ghosts, horrified,
Grab all their
belongings and scatter.
The leading warlock
raises his staff
To silence all the
ear-piercing shrieking.
"Our work here
has barely begun,"
He shouts, "in
a manner of speaking.
"We have a lot
more poison to spread
To circulate anxiety
and doubt.
All we must do is stir
the pot
To give them
something to worry about.
"Fan the flames
of division and discord.
My techniques are
tried and true.
Keep 'em guessing;
then you've got 'em.
And then you cater
to the chosen few.
"We have more
rivers to poison,
Coastlines to alter,
lands to sell,
Coffers to fill,
coffers to rob,
And voices to quiet.
Welcome to hell!"
The glowering
sycophants dance and cheer--
Thirsty for blood, eyes agleam.
"Dishonesty is
the best
Policy," they
fervently scream.
Oh, it's a
frightening Halloween night
When one's worst
nightmare comes true:
The gruesome,
macabre, spine-chilling Nightmare
On Pennsylvania
Avenue.
-by Bob B (10-31-18)
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