I want to eat your brains

08 Oct

I want to eat your brains

I want to eat your brains,

That’s what I said,

I want to eat your brains,

Until you are dead.

I am a zombie; it’s what I do,

Eating brains all night through.


In the morning,

When I’ m nice and full,

Of lovely brains and blood, so cool,

I will go to bed and sleep it off,

Until the evening when I’ll want some more.


Ghost House

by Robert frost

I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.


O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.


I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart.


The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.


It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me—
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.


They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,—
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.

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Posted by on October 8, 2014 in Halloween


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