Demon Dance!
by Linda A. Copp

It's RAW, It's Mean,
It's a Rat-tat-tat-tat Tune
4 o'clock in the afternoon.
Stormy time, 
harpies, loons.
Lightning strikes.
Ka bang! Ka boom!

Rat-tat-tat 
pitchforks that
scratch their tines
on each others back.

Rat-tat-tat
hours fly by
from 4 to 12 in the midnight sky.

Snap, snap, snap
fingers that
crack their bones in this habitat.
Keeping rhythm
with the slide trombone,
crones are droning,
"Least we's not alone." 

Mad as hatters
Nothing matters
But skulls and bones
and empty platters.

X-exing,  flexing muscles wince
things crawling up the fingertips.
Licking, drooling, mouthies, hiss,
ugliness is demon bliss!

Snarling, growling, howling, spit
tentacles, teethes, lips that split.
Tails are swishing, swing and sway
beating a rhythm only they can play.

Scratch, scratch, scratch
do you hear that?
Goblins, vampires, zombies, cats?
Banshees wailing a mournful tune
screaming, 
"We don't want to live here" to the crescent moon.

Clap, clap, clap 
No end to that.

Demons dance in their demon home,
Demons prancing up the stairs of stone.
Hooves are rapping
 with their cloven fists.
Toothy grins, make grisly 
squawks 
and toesies squish.
Nails grip, ripping, open prickling, sharp
Slashing is the finest of the demons art.

It's raw, it's mean,
it's the demon scene.

Everybody groovin, movin
on the ground.
Bats are beating wings,
hanging upside down.

Crows and Vultures flex
 and stretch their toes,
 Talons Clawing, Pawing,
birdie power shows. 
Cawing speaks, Pecking beaks
several slits of eyes 
black, or amber, orange, red
nothing's no surprise.
Empty hungry tummies
Seeking prey.
Looking for a full meal
on a stormy day.

Bang, Bang, Bang-Up
Ka boom, Erupt!
Fangs all dipping in the demon's cup.
Flames rising high
up, up, hiccup! 
Shameless, sameness
demons dance...
Orcs panting, prancing
 eating big red ants.
Ogres are skipping
to the griffons chants.

Thump, thump, thump
grind and groan.
Drumming to the humming
of the xylophone.
Jumping to the two step 
or the maggots moan.
Ump, ump, ump,
bump and grunt.
Lines and columns forming
on the demons front.

Rat- tat- tat
pitchforks that
scratch their tunes
' neath a blood red moon.

Fire higher, sweat, perspire
ravenses, cravenses, crawlies, trolls,
darks or reds hot blooded, cold.

Veins of ice, three heads is nice.
Eye'ses  of all sizes
wink and bug out twice.
We's two stepping on 
burning coals
hot tootsies, paws, claws, 
hooves and pointy toes.

Rat-tat-tat tatting
to the Demon's Dance.
Voodoo-boo-booing
give it half a chance.
And you might grab a pitch fork
and come along.
Sass shaying, hip swaying,
to The Demon's Song!

 Linda A. Copp
©March 24, 2000

Jonathon Earl Bowser's Prisoner at the Bridge