Hallows Eve and Halloween (Dead Kennedys)

Yes, it's that time of year again. When ghosts, ghouls and freaks roam the streets. No I'm not talking about the latest Maroon 5 concert. I'm speaking about Halloween! The time when its cold and we light pumpkins on fire. Since I'm the only one awake and had 10 cups of coffee and have no real responsiblilties to speak of, I will be giving you loverly people my take on this magically dark time.
Halloween has always been a surprising time of year. The time when the spiritual world and ours are at thier closest. Therefor we must frighten the spirits of the dead...and people who are afraid of orange away. The time when all the kids go out dressed as superheroes or whatever these kids dress up as these days knock on doors like Jehovah witnesses and the only way to get rid of them is by throwing candy into their bags.
This is also a time for punk teens (I use punk as a derrogtory term refferring to thier actions not of the music in general) to blow things up. I don't understand that aspect. Lighting off fireworks and explosions is about a 30 second thrill. I was young once. When Wilson was president. And let me tell you small explosions are no fun. Found that out when I was sitting by a gas station in Rockford, Maryland. Still banned from that state. People shouldn't have been filling up anyway.
So on this time go out with your kids, legitimate or otherwise, and celebrate this creepy holiday. Dressing up is fun. Don't see why we can't all year long. Just as long as people don't dress up as Maroon 5 or Bush. Those two things are scary enough as it is. And stay away from that stragly haired guy. He's up to no good. In conclusion, watch out for drugs and razorblades. As for me, I'm going to go into my room turn off the lights and eat a bag of Snickers bars weeping the fact that I'm so terribly alone. Party it up all you freaks. Stupid time-change.
Adieu.
My muscles need candy.

Underground

A sharp rush of air, as the subway muscles it's way through the dense air under London. Semi circular tunnels, bearing the grimy memories of thousands of hours of travel beneath the ancient city on their dark-grouted tiles.
The clack of the steel wheels on the railway tines, the rattle of the swaying aluminum cars as they whisk through the constricted underground, the bark of the audio warning "Mind the gap, mind the gap".
This subterranean transportation system has made movement possible for millions daily through one of the most constricted, highly trafficked, and wealthy cities on earth. But it has provided so much more, pride- in it's engineering marvel which has withstood the pressures of public traffic, and the weight of the surrounding earth alike for over a hundred years; and during Londons most trying days, these round, tiled walls gave life saving shelter to thousands during the Second World Wars' Blitz.
But this year, just weeks after I left this great city, this very subway which I whisked through to tour the rich sights and experiences of London, was bombed. Beginning with Kings Cross station- one which I frequented during my stay; bombs ripped through the aluminum shell of the cars, splintering the trademark tiles, warping the indelicate ribbons of steel track with it's massive heat.
This institution which has contributed so much to this city, and indeed to the world, was used to kill innocent human beings on their way into the city- becoming pawns in the bloody game of international policy, tools of oppressive fundamentalism the world over. The sobering hate which courses through this world becomes so apparent, when written in blood on the cracked, dark-grouted tiles of the London Underground.