My annual Halloween poem: "A Tolerant Kind of Fright"

What can you do with a monster in chains
That doesn't get everyone mad?
What is the point of mad scientist claims
If everyone thinks you're a cad?

What should you do if you're forced to become
A beast once a month with the moon?
It's not like you could instead change in the sun
And have your nights free for "Dexter" and "Glee"
As long as you're up before noon.

You're bound, is my point, by the rules of the game.
You don't deserve pitchforks and mobs!
You're helpless as gremlins when gripped by the mane.
If only a mummy could sob!

There aren't a great number of jobs, don't you see,
For horrible hunchbacks and thralls.
They're all just "support-hyphen-lab'ratory".
They don't have a hope of an increase in scope
In their workplace assignments at all.

What can we ask of a composting wretch,
Who's crawled all the way from his tomb?
He's hungry!  He's forced to eat what he can catch!
Wouldn't you be if you died last June?

And don't get me started on monsters from space,
The "Old Ones" or "aliens" or "grays".
They've made a great effort to come to this place.
The least we can do is stop being rude
And forgive them their strange, probing ways.

So this Halloween let's try to hold back
Our usual premature screams.
Don't jump to conclusions.  Please take a new tack.
The demon is not what he seems.

He's one of a group who are trapped in a role
As tight and restrictive as nuns'.
They don't actually want your little kid's soul.
They're just saying the lines written multiple times
By Hollywood fools who think hokey is cool.
So don't be too mean (but still run).

Subway Howl

Our dependence on the shopkeep