THIS GHOUL DOLLED UP

whether the weather necessitates
to anchor myself as a tether, 
when the frankenstorm socks
the east coast shredding terres
trial zone like soft leatheri
may end up attired in esprit
de corpse being tossed hither
and yon to and fro like a
feather. If...the forecast
imbues the meteorologists
flooded with folly making
a mockery of humanity
run amuck in panic mode -
by golly this mortal male
will don himself as "the
chief garbage" taster with
a garland of holly shuffling
along the boulevard of
broken tin cans and rubbish
feigning to be melancholy.
This getup a throw back
to a costume that adorned
this papa when he attended
grade school eons ago,
where corporal punishment
prevailed in case a student
disavowed any rule such
as smoking in the boys'
room a cigarette such
manufactured by Kent
or kool or lambasting
any unlikable teacher
(whose bookish face)
at receiving end of pranks
rather cruel. So...presume
that Halloween will take
place without any axe 
of nature to grind the
monster brewing at sea, 
and picture this poet
decked out dumpster diving
for the most fetid trash and
materiel with cracks to be
affixed upon a heavy duty
sack with goop from sullied
foodstuffs - a cause for
glee rotten meat infested
with maggots, shards of
glass, crushed metal cans,
et cetera to the maxwell
clerk be haphazardly splayed
(Jackson Pollack like)
on this sturdy cloth that
will drape me spurring
a conga like of hungry
beasts ready go pounce -
menacing ferocious wolf
packs adding to the welter
per helter skelter of
decayed detritus distributed
from head to knee and a set
of punishing pronged antlers
spiking out in all directions
upon ma noggin-hence to
tax utmost fear in passersby,
and quite an abominable
sight to see.