The Dirty Old Man Opines on All Hallows Eve
Did Anyone Buy F***ING Candy?
A whiskey-soaked moon hangs low and dim,
On this dark October night, a spectral hymn.
The streets are alive with ghouls and jesters,
And the damned souls of lost barroom testers.
The neon lights flicker, casting eerie glows,
On the faces of the dead who walk in rows.
They stumble and stagger, their laughter obscene,
In the ghostly haze of a whiskey-drenched scene.
The women in costumes, alluring and wicked,
Their red lips like poison, their eyes like elixir.
They dance on the bar, and they dance on the table,
Seducing the devils, the demons, the unstable.
The bartenders pour, with a cynical grin,
Another shot of hellfire, another sip of sin.
The jukebox wails with a mournful tune,
As the lonely souls howl at the blood-red moon.
In the corner, a poet, battered and bruised,
With a notebook of verses, all battered and used.
He scribbles his lines in a drunken haze,
Capturing the madness of these haunted days.
Halloween, a night of chaos and vice,
Where the living and dead, they dance and entice.
In this city of shadows, where the lost souls reside,
It's a macabre carnival, an eternal ride.
So raise up your glass, and toast to the night,
As the darkness descends, and the witches take flight.
In the spirit of Bukowski, we revel and sing,
In this twisted, demented, and beautiful thing.
—— by ChatGPT
