TRICK OR TWEET
Hey ghostwriter, what are you do-ing?
FRight now, I’m practicing my boo-ing.
LET’S NOT GET CARRIED AWAY
Prince of Darkness, when we go,
Your specter is no illusion ….
But when you come, why can’t we know
The meaning of this intrusion?
One might think your job’s to lurk,
Always taking, never giving ….
But I would hardly call it work
When dying hands you a living.
LUCIFER LIGHTS MY FIRE
Waked after falling asleep writing poems,
My seat feels so hot, I jump up in the air.
I realize then a two-horned joker
Has set papers on fire under my chair.
“Is that my rhymed verse?” most sternly I scream.
“It burns like a dream!” he rhymes in reply.
“What the devil”, I delve, “are you up to?”
“Just warming up you.” is his cold goodbye.