Mystery Verse

Home MST Reviews Mystery Gallery Mystery Verse Contact Us Links

The Mysterious Musings of Stan!



Responsibility to the Flesh


this is not an idle charge

for what responsibility is there for ourselves


The resounding sun rages like fire in my ears

woebegone the mother of suns that may one day forgive.


asunder. my hand, the blade

slash my enemy, myself


O, brighteye keep your pretty head down

deep in mud and silence your time has come and gone


ours is the time of iron that has begun to rust

disintegrate as we forge.


I have felt this fear before, a million years ago,

running from something that changed me.


compelled by the forces of parallel lives

I am a slave within this vessel.


let this moment swelled with consequence

drown me at the seams burst


in this brittle vessel I am the dust upon my own feet

that glorious OHM! and AHH!


the gentle strum may play on despite my worry.

absolution is not our luxury


only the FUTURE may look upon our wins and losses...

...may the Lastlight we burned our flesh upon


be the Firstlight the Future finds mercy.



Colors of Hallowe'en


Hush children, speak not of summer schemes

Mother has done her work, bow your head to icy dreams


Harvest time has come, life's fertile fire, waning flames

Celebrate and wake'n slumber in colors of autumn names.


Of yellow and red-orange brown and green

Mother don your gown of Hallowe'en

Of yellow red-orange and green dance in spinning leaves of Hallowe'en.


Warm hearth, hyacinth, cinnamon 'n clove

Cat's in the pumpkin patch, cider on the stove.


Sad sweet autumn song Mother's heart resound

Tears of joy and music frost the air 'n tired ground.


Mother dance alone no soul to hear you cry

Children will speak of trick or treat bats'll always fly.


Of yellow, red-orange brown and green

Souls and dreams rise on Hallowe'en.


Of yellow, red-orange brown and green

sentiment, the wind's kiss on Hallowe'en.


(whisper lacrimations)


Of yellow, red-orange brown and green

Mother, don your gown of Hallowe'en.


(whisper lacrimations)


Of yellow, red-orange brown and green

Dance in spinning leaves of Hallowe'en.


Of yellow, red-orange brown and green

The sunrise, sunset of Hallowe'en.


Of yellow, red-orange brown and green

Mother's last repast on Hallowe'en.



In the Garden of Waning Things

for Roger and Biggie


'Twas before adult rationale beset its debilitations,

midnight sensations called into the Garden of Waning Things

autumnal calls my cat in moonlight answered

I, steeped in waking dream and circumstance, followed...

among the sunflowers you should have seen

the Scarecrow and Cat on All Hallows Eve'n

'cross orange gourd, green tangled cord

they danced so close on All Hallows Eve'n

They twisted and tumbled in the elegance of vine

fruit to the root

backward bridge across time

an old lover's curse

one short reprieve, dance Scarecrow and Cat

on All Hallows Eve'n


I in the shadow

where wild things grow

hid my enchantment from pumpkin-light glow

the handsomest Scarecrow I ever did see

in the crook of his arm

verdant was She

in his fertile ground

a sanctified sound

sweet dulcet dirge, rush and recede

the strum and the beat

"Dead and the Living

all dance the same on All Hallows Eve'n"


said Scarecrow to Cat, "I am you, you are me

as we dance, straw to claw

the Great Scythe sweeps

crouch and leap our souls will keep

beyond that material sleep

regret not, nor be sad

now is all we ever had

you I love and all that's green

yet in this garden seen, unseen.

falls to harvest to one thing

for better for worse

subvert our curse

posterity ring of what we bring

when Winter does his reckoning

shall we feast? shall we fall?

does the harvest matter at all?

when I tend the Token Seed

from dirt to blossom: fruit or weed?"


"my gentle counter-glow," Cat said to Scarecrow

"familiar, am I,

with subtle flights

those gloryshades

spanning Ever-morns to Ever-nights

these thoughts conceived by a thousand Hallowe'ens

a knowledge gleaned


hidden heavens and hells

a whisker whisper tells

all dead things lie

in that, trust

if I must, let it die

what misery or joy is meant to last

beneath corporeal countenance all sensations cast."


Suddenly, over head

ghostly choirs

more alive than dead

more felt than seen


"nothing more is green

Mother call your children home

time to sleep, no time to roam

this gloaming season is the reason

as Autumn Fires stake their claim

countermand the Vital Name

can you feel? have you seen?

nothing more is green!"


coaxed from my space

for spice secede

cinnamon, nutmeg, apple sweet

clove confections

queer concoctions warm, replete


mixed I, with spectral creations

ciders shared with long past relations

drunk on kaleidoscope celebrations

and curious revelations

'bout Scarecrow and Cat

on All Hallows Eve'n


whatever lot these two had cast

their lives were doomed as lovers last

Scarecrow would bow, his final submission

while Cat could pine, she'd have no remission


helpless, I,

accept, where child's tears in virtue kept

bore the task, for Cat, I wept


undaunted, All souls crept

from Night to fade in Dawn's resplendent light...


and the Great Scythe passed

a silent swing

stole spirit Scarecrow from Hallowe'en

soft upon the scatter glow

of this great and secret show

to Cat, said He,

"you I love, but nothing more is Green."


his soul lost

a glittering frost

settled on the scene

leaving Cat and I alone

in the Garden of Waning Things


fresh with insight and much humility

thanks to the serendipity-greater than me

gave Cat to her silent lament

resting on the crown of a pumpkin bed

delirium clouding my head

hiding testimony

raced I home

dumb from Nightshades and Mourning Glories

Rushed to write this cinnamon prose-


bitter to taste, sweet on the nose.





all contents ©1999-2003 HyperHead Entertainment LLC  and/or grant r productions LLC  on to HyperHead Records...        to grant r productions website...