Skip to main content

The Man Who Was Dressed as the Grim Reaper


On Halloween Eve I attended a feast
Where friends were disguised as brilliant beasts
Amid all the rags of black, grey, and plum
My red dress blotted the floor with red rum
I was the Queen of Hearts for one night
Flattered by men who blushed at my sight
I was a caricature of women who rage
I was a damsel from the Victorian age
Though I was proposed to by all the males
I rejected them at the swish of my scarlet red nails
There was one man, in the corner of the room
Who caused my intrigue to tenderly bloom
He was not a clown, a cowboy, or an ape
He was a skeleton in a flowing black cape
This sort of blasphemy I've never seen
To dress as the Reaper for Halloween
He transformed a holiday of fun and fear
Into a reminder that death is too near
He left to the garden, and I followed and whined
And told him his costume was way out of line
He turned his head and I shuddered at his face
Which was a skeletal, bleached disgrace
"Sir, I demand you unmask your brow!
Your cruel satire is sure not allowed!"
He looked back at me, his eyes but holes
Such a costume! This man had no soul
I grasped on to his face only to reveal
That the ivory white skull was perfectly real
But the touch was more than I could describe
He emitted an almost supernatural vibe
Petrified, I could not squeak nor scream
To awaken me from this devilish dream
Then he held his raw bony hand to my cheek
I was so in awe that I could not speak
I realized his beauty, his pure physique
Like all of us, he was incredibly weak
He was the most innocent form of man
No brain, no greed, no selfish life plan
My pompous red dress, sinful with horns
Compared to his heavenly crown of thorns
The whiteness of his skull, blinding in the night
A most terrifying but magnificent sight
I was so stupefied, I admit to this
I stood on my toes and leaned in for a kiss
Never did I taste a death wish so sweet
But then he crumbled to ashes at my feet
Alas! I cried, for I had no defence
I destroyed this man's divine innocence
I was a Queen! And I was in a rage
But I can't love a man with an empty rib cage
I met a strange man on Halloween
Who was life and death and all in between
Rolling in the ashes, I do confess
Was no Queen, but a damsel in distress
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Women: Living Contradictions

What does society want? For women to achieve impossible standards (and, by the way, it is NOT possible to achieve something that is impossible). Society wants us to be living contradictions...cabbage heads on stilts... airhead rocket scientists. Society wants us to be things that don't even exist in fiction, but only in the glossy pages of a Cosmopolitan magazine (look at me! I'm so skinny! So happy! Sexy all the time!). As I heard said many times before, "even Victoria's Secret models don't look like Victoria's Secret models." The way the proportions are warped, each pimple bleached, each hair trimmed down to pre-pubescence, toes and fingers without a scar, and the face angelic and so happy... it makes me sick. It makes me sick because of the contradictions, because women are expected to: Be sexy but not slutty Be innocent but not prude Be virgins but also fantastic lovers Be independent but submissive Be good mothers but maintain careers Be...
6 comments
Read more

Perfection is a Myth

For as long as I can remember, I've had the same unachievable goal, which I believed to be my life's purpose: to achieve perfection. I wanted to be a straight A student, an idol for the younger generation, the prettiest girl on the block, the girl with the perfect boyfriend, the perfect balance of everything that is wonderful and exquisite. Little did I realize that perfection is just a myth, like Big Foot or the cookie monster. I now type this blog post, feeling both shock and excitement, about my new found discovery- that the thing I've been trying so hard to attain all these years does not exist. It's a big pill to swallow, but hopefully a glass full of water and reality will ease the pain. The biggest problem with trying to be perfect is having the constant feeling of guilt and failure. Since perfection is an illusion, I'm chasing after nothing. I feel guilty for not being perfect and, by this definition, I'm a failure because I'm not perfect. This sou...
2 comments
Read more

Why I Think Iron Man is a Jerk

I'm not usually intrigued by superhero action movies, but since I work at the cinema, I can't resist seeing some blockbuster action flicks from time to time, the newest one being Iron Man 3. Although the movies are based on comic books, I still like to do a literary overanalysis of the characters, their flaws, and the hidden messages that they're portraying about our society. Popular media defines society as it is in the moment. For example, back in the post-war days, literature was depressing and scrutinized the advance of the Industrial Revolution and lack of individualism (take into account Virginia Woolf or Sylvia Plath). Now, our society seems to hail the cynical hero- the one who makes snippy remarks, has low moral standards, and consumes himself with one-night stands- the jerk. The greatest example of the cynical jerk superhero is Iron Man. The newest Iron Man movie had a simple, predictable plot line (nerd wants revenge, things get blown up, pretty girl, nerd b...
3 comments
Read more