Happy Halloween


Halloween Night
Lucia Modestino

This is the night
Where ghosts and ghouls
Come out to give a fright,
Witches fly on broom-
Sticks, over the full moon
As the wolf man howls
And Dracula opens his tomb
In search for his pray.
The jack-lantern is lit
To keep evil at bay
And the headless horsemen
Looking for his head
Ran into Frankenstein
Who ripped off his fingers of ten.

So lets run and hide,
The devil is out
Stealing souls of who lives
And who has died
As the black cat
Protects us
Of the evil that dwells inside.


Póg Mo Thóin: Kiss my Ass


In the wicked wolf pub
down in Blackrock, Ireland
there was an old Irish man
only on his tenth beer.
Lonely as he seemed
I felt.

I sat next to him
as he offered me a beer.
“Aye mate!
Let me tell you what!”
His eyes were see-through blue,
his pupils were dilated.
“People be cheeky bloody blokes
your whole life.
They’ll put you down mate,
tell you that you will never
get the chance to do what you love–”

he took a big gulp of beer,
“never give up what you love mate.
Not even if there is a geis* on ya,
look at Cu Chullen*,
who came back from the
flames of hell and regained his
glory, he never let one his geasa*
stop him. If some bloody bloke
puts you down there are three
words you should live by–”

the now drunken Irishman’s head
flopped down on the bar,
as I sat there thinking about
how much sense he had made
until the end. My thoughts were
interrupted as his head lifted up.
He raised his glass in the air and
yelled out,

“Póg Mo Thóin!”*

Lucia Modestino

*Geis: (Ge-sh) Curse- only gods/goddess, druids, father to a son and all women could place a geis
*Ch Cullen: Irish god; like the Greek Achilles
*Geasa: plural for Geis
*Póg Mo Thóin: (pog-mo-ho)




By Lucia Modestino

I stand before you all
with this noose tied around my neck,
accused of witchcraft.
It was said I caused a pinch here,
a scratch there,
dreams of me dancing naked
in the fields with the devil
as I sold my soul.

I am condemned to death
for thy false accusations.
I will not be the one to suffer
the flames of hell for witchery,
it shall be those who accuse the innocent:
women who died in prison from neglect,
women who faced and shall face the gallows
before and after me,
and for poor Giles Corey,
whom thou smashed with boulders
as he was forced to leave behind a wife and daughter.

Thou art all the true witches
for there is no greater evil
than murder, the real devil’s work.