the King of Cruelty
sat in his Castle of Despair
ripping out huge swatches
of his night-sky hair

bemused as he slouched
on his blood-stained throne
angry that his Queen had left,
for now he had to live alone

the castle was deserted,
for his slaves had bolted, too
“alas,” he muttered to himself,
“my Halloween is lookin’ blue.

“how dare that woman leave me,
the bitch! – ungrateful whelp!
I should throw a Halloween ball,
maybe that will help.”

he sat down at his desk
in a chair of bleached bones
while outside at his door
the townspeople threw stones

he found some ancient paper
& a cracked fountain pen
when a thought struck him like lightning:
he had not a single friend

his rheumy eyes glowered
his wrinkled face scowled
& he cursed & paced about
while outside the wolves howled

suddenly he shouted, “Wait!
my lack of friends need not be tragic –
for am I not a mighty sorcerer,
well-versed in all black magic?”

he removed his book of spells
from a drawer of his desk
& in the language of the damned
created friends that were grotesque

they were smelly & hunchbacked
with piggy eyes that leaked pus
one had bloody stumps for limbs
& wore a monstrous truss

the King of Cruelty was delighted,
he reveled in their awful din
then he raised his crooked arms
shouting, “let my Halloween ball begin!”

but his friends were soulless creatures
obeisant to a darker whim
they fell on the King of Cruelty
& ripped him limb from limb

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