the haunted house

photo of grey colored house during daytime
Photo by Kris Lucas on Pexels.com

The garden calls me from the world I know,

Grave stones poking through the grass

Like rotten teeth in swollen gums, I wonder

What lies below, what else could push their way

Upwards, to grab at ankles as I pass.

Once at the door we’re always greeted by

A man unusually tall, stooping and groaning

Holding candles sagging in the night.

Pictures change to gruesome sights, as we walk

Towards the cars that drift through halls

Like silent hands that hold us safe.

We swoop through ballroom scenes with ghostly girls

Held in arms of ghoulish men and someone sat

At organ keys, playing something tabgo-like.

And into basements we will travel, where the dead

Were buried (maybe not quite dead when trapped

Inside the nailed up coffin box. Now they play

With people as the venture in, jigging to

A song we cannot hear with earthly ears.

And when the journey ends we jump back on

To terra firma with the help of girls

Dressed in high neck shirts and full length skirts,

Out into a bright lit day, so at odds

With the darkness we have come to know and love,

Blinking in a gift shop full of branded mugs

And T-shirts printed with the living dead.

We part with too much hard earned cash before

We head off to Space Mountain for

Another ride, another thrill, another world

To make us scream with pure delight.