October’s Funhouse

Every year in October

somewhere right around now

when the moon hides its face

and the shadows come out

*

they say the spirits awaken

and the wild dogs howl

the tree limbs misshapen

as that old fair comes to town

*

they set up down by the lake

dragging wagons behind

that old broken down gate

tied together with twine

*

and they laugh and they drink

getting drunk on their wine

but before the sun sinks

and the full moon starts to rise

*

a funhouse emerges

from out of nowhere, thin air

the lights in town surges

energizing the fair

*

the speakers play dirges

drawing everyone there

they board up the churches

and statues in town square

*

rumors say the floors spin

and mirrored ceilings stop time

the trap door’s made of skin

from somebody who died

*

only one or two men

ever got out alive

it takes a spell to get in

but once they’ve got you inside

*

the doors lock behind you

and they seal up tight

you can check out and go through

any time that you like ….

********

BUT YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE

*

they’ve gotten new blood for ages

it doesn’t matter how old

they keep them locked up in cages

until the fall air turns cold

*

then they release them like hounds

on each town, unsuspecting

it pops up from the ground

a new supply needs collecting

*

the cycle continues again, year after year

so enter with caution, if you dare

before you do, let’s make it crystal clear

chances are you won’t get out of there