Because it's almost Halloween, I have some dark readin' for you. Tis the story of Beelza-Bubba, the devil's brother, and the day that granddaddy sent him back to hell!



Beelza-Bubba!

Back behind the house,
Where the water meets the dock,
And the algae grows green,
And stinky thick.
There's a small, encrusted stone,
With a name that's chiseled on,
Surrounded by some hoary, red stained bricks.

And the name that's cut on there,
Is guaranteed to raise your hair,
Even though the marker's,
Seen at least one hundred years.

It's a brand left by the devil,
Who walked the swamps here,
Damp and level,
Lookin' for souls to swaller up,
And make a meal.

And when you read that stone,
There's just one word that's chipped upon,
A rock, no bigger than your skull.
But don't speak the word out loud,
Or disturb the crusted shroud,
That partially obscures it,
In the dirt!

Do you know Beelza-Bubba?
He's the brother of the devil,
Who walked the swamps,
And looked for souls,
On moonless nights.

His name's inspired fear,
In all the people livin' here,
Til the day that my grandaddy,
Stared him down!

Beelza-Bubba, get thee gone!
There's no souls to steal, anon,
Just Christian men,
And holy music,
His songs of joy!

And in this septic swamp,
Full of the evil you have brought,
Do not disturb the righteous few,
Washed in the blood!

Beelza-Bubba, I cast thee out!
Evil demon of hell's redoubt.
Malignant spirit, so reviled,
By godly men.
I adjure you, unholy creature,
By one of God's anointed preachers,
Get thee behind me, hellish beast,
And come no more!

And from behind granddaddy,
Swelled the voices of a crowd,
Singing praises,
And calling out His holy name.

And the swamp began to boil,
And the mud began to burn,
As Beelza-Bubba,
Was thrown back,
Into the pit.

And the glory of that day,
Is marked by a stone of grey,
That Satan placed there,
To warn the beasts of hell itself!

Stay away, unholy minions!
Or be destroyed,
By God's strong hand!
This marker is a warning,
For all to see!

Ignore it at your peril,
Or be destroyed,
Like Beelza-Bubba,
Whose ashes forever burn
Within the pit!

- 2017, Stephen Redgwell

As we move toward Remembrance Day and Tanksgivin', one more. Dark, like sour molasses.
---

Despair invades the spaces that hope has abandoned.

Soul in a Dark Place

Into the air he screamed aloud,
But no one heard his voice.
He begged to be released that night.
The locked door gave no choice.

"Please come for me! I've lost my way!
The darkness does confound!"
But no one heard his voice cocooned,
By the stone walls in the ground.

Oh God! Then came the rancid smell.
The Evil heard his cries.
And in the dead still darkness,
The man slammed shut his eyes.

As if a thousand corpses,
Had erupted from the grave,
Putrefaction filled the lightless room,
His soul would not be saved.

The footsteps that approached him,
From beyond the shackled door,
Struck terror and a boiling sweat,
As he fell onto the floor.

"Oh please! Oh please! Don't take my soul!"
But nothing from the maw,
Except its vulgar, stinging breath,
And touch of the Evil's paw.

The man lay frozen. Deathly still.
The Evil grabbed his throat.
And from the fetid, pitch black room,
A howling did emote.

"I smell your blood and draining life.
I feel your soul corrode.
No god can save your wretchedness,
Or make your essence whole."

Give up your life and die withdrawn
Your spirit yields to me
I devour souls and human hope
I am man’s misery"

And in that cold, despairing place,
The man succumbed in course.
The Evil laughed and swallowed him,
And was strengthened by his force

Beware the places dark and foul,
Where Evil seeks repast.
His harrow is calamity,
Where souls can never last.

- 2004

I have a solution for such things, invented by the Honorable John Rigby.

Bangers and mash?
Mutton fried Wimpys?
Toad in the hole?
Spotted dick?