Down The Fire Hole Poem by Kevin Maroney

A diet of worms, who would spurn,
Not evil, not rack, but who would burn?
Witches and demons, walk from the crypt
To say their farewells to a life to them fict.
For they don't believe in dragons or fairytails,
instead focused on their own hard spells.
To live a life devoid of hap'ness
Equates to a life without sadness -
Unfort'nt'ly, none achieve this goal,
For indeed, none heed, but speed towards a hole
Through which, through fire inev'tably fall,
Through devilish evil and pol'tc's gall.

In a suitcase of green, is possessed in a box,
A veritable sea of penultimate pox.
It spreads through land and yonder sky,
To corrupt the mind and make one lie
To deaf to work and work to play
Never...but now, from stark to stay.
Sit in one place and blow on the meadow,
to stalks of grass grow on the cred'o'.

But no, all green must have its end -
Because, dear man, none can end'lsly spend.