Anyone there

 

I promise this is the last Halloween themed poem before I get on to my annual ruining Xmas songs before I get back into writing proper stuff. ish

I got myself a spirit board

To see how I would go

I asked if anyone was there

The pointer went to NO

More dolls.

 

Message from one of my fans regarding evil dolls, occasionally I get a fearful post.

'Please. You can destroy Tiny Tears and Barbie, but please not Sindy and Pippa!

It's almost like she walked into that. Please note, Sindy and Pippa were popular dolls in the united Kingdom back then. Mostly because they were cheaper. 

Stretching fingers on the keyboard and lets out a cackle....and pootles off to do some doll related research.....

You're never going to find I'm sure

Upon our very British shore

Though even with our ancient lore

You'll find no curses near

Oh but in old USA

Cursed objects, every other day 

The priest brought in, on extra pay

An attic full of gear

A haunted box, a spooky book

A Barbie with an evil look

That scary Muppet swedish cook

It's one big cursed field day

In UK attics you will see

A very knackered Christmas tree

A Pippa doll without her knees

A box of pub ashtrays

One slightly decomposed brown rat

A novelty type birthday hat

A general why?- did we keep that!

A teddy that has burst

Let out a scream, full of dread

A Sindy doll, with felt tipped head

Could sell on eBay, by a thread

More money, just say cursed

Dolls

 Sorry I've got a theme going, must be Halloween on the united kingdom 

Dolls

There's something rather creepy

about those antique dolls

Glass eyes that blink discreetly 

They stare without a soul

Fine china lacks emotion

As plain as a statue

Depending on their notion

Not sure they'd murder you

For it's less of a worry

as China dolls are small

It's not like they can hurry 

They break when they do fall

In truth they are not bendy

So movements are not quick

And if they seen less friendly 

Just smash them with a brick

There's something rather creepy 

About those wooden dolls

Their movements jerk completely 

Again they lack a soul

With varnished faces painted

and lips gone quite askew 

Their style is rather dated

Not sure they'll murder you

For it's less of a worry

As wooden dolls are thick

It's not like they can hurry 

Being made from just a stick

But if they do turn frightful 

Just chop them with an axe

They may turn out quite useful

Since the winter fuels been taxed

Meanwhile...

 You're read my other poem 

about the terror of the clowns

for clowns do warn they're creepy

so no chance too let you down

But the victims are so terrible 

It's cliche with a sigh

No wonder they go quickly 

This is the reason why....

They've announced there is a curfew

For the killer clowns in sight

Do arrange to have a party

with your mates on that same night

Pick a lovely little building 

So secluded, exits none

Full of tools for random farming

Just enough for everyone 

In your place, it's not that scary

with that killer clown next door

But remember, have a shower 

or a bath or even more

Dance around, just in your undies

Advertise yourself at home

Shout at random creepy strangers

Look at me! I'm on my own.

Being chased? Do run slowly 

Flail your arms around your hair 

When you jog, do trip on feathers

Leaves and sometimes just on air

Check to see that he is following 

It is nice, he thinks your sweet

That you're stopped to have breather

in the middle of the street

I'm kinda rooting for the clown now. 🤡🤡

Clowns

🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈

 At many children parties

They dance amongst the young 

With noses colour scarlet

balloons and cakes and fun

They're comical and silly

and grin a big red smile

But the adults know the secret

In the movies clowns are vile

There's Pennywise and joker

and killer clowns from space

Be warned of captain Spaulding 

He'll get you in his place

Don't stop if they are smiling

when walking down the town

There's nothing worse that being chased 

by Art the sodding clown

Some folks who are quite mental 

Have clowns that look like dolls

they seem to all ride tricycles

I doubt you'll find their souls

Oh my! a fluffy harlequin

Contains the antichrist 

Is it anyway related

to those dolls in Poltergeist?

Dog time

 I will just stare

Tip my head, are you aware

Still not noticing me

Big yawn, please see

Oh it's nearly time

Maybe I'll let out a whine 

Look into my eyes

Still nothing, big sigh

Different approach 

Dinner time needs a coach

She's hiding behind her screen 

Maybe let out a barking scream

She's just said FINE!

Zoomies wagging time

Chomping, like I'm starving, funny

Doggy biscuits in my tummy

Wait an hour and start again.

Me

 Who am I?

Definition; my.

No. Who am I?

A simple breath in sigh?

Why do I feel

It never feels real

Jokes, conceal 

Secrets peel

What do I know

Simple things show

Words that flow

Sometimes slow

Can you see?

Am I free?

Well, naturally 

I'm just me. 

Storm

 My name is stormy

because I know the storms

The feeling in my insides

When the power forms

Feel the dust in fingers

Insects catch a feast

See the change in nature

Powers of the east

Can you see the quiet

Nature holds her breath

Birds and very silent

Fly towards the west

Act your age

Oh joy the romantic notion

Of magazines and aging lotion

Of over spending stuff devotion

Don't read that stuff old sage

Oh yes I'm really natural red

The model likes to touch her head

I think old hair is mostly dead

around the bus-pass stage 

The lady shows us exercise 

For most those poses are not wise

I cannot even see my thighs

My knees just creak with rage

Supplements for every ail

Most will just made with Kale

And at a push some fresh crushed Snail

Depending on your wage

Don't assume we're all the same

By showing oh a famous dame

Who doesn't need a Zimmer frame

Or lives within a cage

And so the lie of age will start

But you walk with a tartan cart

And cannot really trust a fart

So please DO act your age

If it's not, fix it

 It seems to be a silly thing

To ruin something new

A nod towards the vintage stuff

It just looks old, thank you 

A shabby chic or what the hell

Say's pre Raphael lite

Of course the barcode is still shown

The chipboard still in sight

But no one wants a true antique 

with stories found within 

They'd rather have the mass produced

Signed Chipindale, Beijing.

At antique fairs across the land

These lies have prices high

The modern knackered furniture 

Is the stuff folk tend to buy 

One of a kind the dealer says

He has the face of trust

A reclaimed, (bet the hell it is!)

With old (I'm sure fake rust)

The cash exchanged, the buyers go

A rare exchanged, such luck

If only they did see-

the other forty in his truck

Run

 Dedicated to Mr Stephen De- utter loony.

I have a friend who's Husbands weird

He likes to run, yeap strange

And medals line his living room

in every size and range

He travels all around the world

and runs on every street

And every type of running shoe

he wears upon his feet

He also wears that lycra

Colours brighter than the sun

Of course you will be seen-

by astronauts when you do run

I guess a cunning notion

For reasons found within 

His clothes will blind the other folk

And this is why he wins

Please help him now, I utter loud

The poor sods lost the plot

An interventions needed

Tie his laces in a knot*

Be reasonable, my lovely friend

retire my dearest  man

Just  run for more important stuff 

Like trains or ice cream vans

* Thanks mum for the suggestion, she thinks he's weird as well.

Security

 A word I gave to the security man

In Tesco's, last fortnight 

Please keep a watch, I'm dodgy

Do keep me in your sight

'I'm dieting' I told him

Will-power I do lack

So do please shout "Oi watch it"

When I glance at random snacks

Please ban me from the crisp aisle

Announce when I do stray

An Asbo in the puddings

No chocolate bars today

Be thorough with the camera 

She looks aloof! Bizarre!

I'm sure you'll find I'm hiding 

A KitKat down my bra

In desperate times it's needed

A body search, with care

Family pack of wotsits 

found within my underwear.

So please Mr security man

I need your help I do

I'm sure I'd lose a ton of weight 

just running away from you.

Doesn't help me now

 At school you're taught bout weird skills

Learn painting, words and other thrills

Such pretty thoughts on window sills

It doesn't help me now 

I know the names of kings and queens

And know which hue is evergreen

Who cares which artist painted Scream

It doesn't help me now

You go to collage, learn a trade

But wasted years on a parade 

To learn what Arthur Fry* had made

It doesn't help me now

I wish they'd taught bout saving cash

Or gave exams on types of rash

But learning types of trees called Ash

It doesn't help me now

Though now I'm rather good at games

And many quizzes are quite tame

Okay, quite good with random names

So I suppose it helps me now

* Inventor of Post it notes. 

Mobility hell angel

 

Hogs have their hell angels. 

 Mopeds- Mods and more

Harley Davidson leather, 

 meet from shore to shore

But there is a group so special 

 and others we do snub

Bring chaos dearest members, 

 In the mobility scooter club

Shout havoc, when you're driving, 

 yes use your bell as well

Just take out random ankles, 

 if you draw blood it's swell

Show off your brand new basket, 

 don't need a test to drive

Supersonic little scooter

 reaches speeds From 0 to 5

Please cover it with stickers, 

 Just use them now with pride

'I break for random pigeons

 My load is extra wide'

Be careful when reversing

 warn with a little sound

Download a tune that shouts out

 Move! Or I'll run you down

Remember when on pavements

 To be a king or queen

Forget about those walkers

 They're supposed to scream

Enjoy the little pleasures

  Drive really slow with care

Oh how is my new driving?

 I really do not care.

Me. Hello new tablet

 So, the weirdness of interwebby what's its. Oh how I miss floppy discs. 

The joy of a new tablet once again. She says with a hint of sarcasm

Meaning I had to sign in. Proving once again that I need to write things down. 

Personally I hate this new world. Unless you are computer and phone able it just becomes a muddle of nonsense. 

But the most important thing. I'm back on this page

My desision firmly against FB. Which has nothing to do with the fact I cannot actually access it.  

I uttered the word faff at least five times.

For those who know me. Well I will be totally changing myself online.  If I cannot log on without a mobile brain scan then I'm afraid I just won't bother. 

I don't understand why they need a phone number when they want an email. Plus I don't understand what my age, pronoun, height and if I had bacon for breakfast has anything to do with anything really.  Let alone having to prove that I'm not a robot send from the future, whose main goal is to try and log into some random nutters FB page. And thus change the future. 

Not exactly a plot from a movie. Terminator 5.. Rise of the random posts about bin day.

Mmmm could be a poem.