- Non-Erotic Poetry
- 4 Minutes To 3:00
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It's 4 minutes to 3:00 in the morning
and many dogs howl in the dark.
The cold air is pierced by their wails
because it's witching hour again.
Spirits fly so high in the night again
and voices carry thru' the air.
The eeriness is much too much to bear
and shivers upon the skin are so alive.
The tension can be cut with a machete,
it's as thick as a London fog.
The crying ghosts long for vengeance
so they just haunt everyone.
It's now 3 o'clock in the morning
and the dead are rising again...
as their cries for those living to join
them in their hell...people are screaming.
Their horror and fright make them
pale as white as a sheet...
the spirited hour is making everybody
run away into the night...
screaming.
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