Welcome to Maoist Orange Cake. Each week one of our Divas posts a thoughtful (but not necessarily serious) essay on whatever calls forth her Voice or strikes her Fancy. We invite you to join us wherever the discussion leads.
Motto of the MOC: Sincere, yes. Serious? Never!

"I would also like to add that ‘Maoist Orange Cake is possibly the best name for a blog ever. Just my twopence." -- The Sixth Carnival of Radical Feminists, 1 October 2007

The Twelfth Carnival of Radical Feminists is up at The Burning Times blog and mentions one of our posts, Helen 'Wheels' Keller, for recommendation. Orangeists spreading our zest!

Friday, December 28, 2007

Quizzes! Quizzes! Quizzes!

Over at the Blog Whose Name We Do Not Mention, links to a couple of quizzes have been posted, flooding poor Alison Bechdel with more irrelevant notes. Hoping to pick up some of the overflow, I’m posting both links here.

Free Rice (words): Free Rice

Geography: The Traveler IQ Challenge

I made it to Level 11 of the geography quiz, but I expected better. Part of the problem was the scale of the map, but I confess I don’t know the Central Asian republics as well as I should, and with some of the islands I consider myself lucky to have gotten the right ocean.
Warning: Free Rice is said to be addictive!


Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Merry Christmas, Divas!

Here's wishing all you divas (and divos) out there the Happiest of Holidays!

This is what I wish for us all in 2008:

An end to the war in Iraq, and the troops coming home.

A Democrat in the White House.

Someone wonderful to love you.

An end the the writer's strike (I miss my Daily Show/Colbert Report!)

A robust economy.

Better health for all of us!

I want to thank all of you for your commentary here---it has been a source of education, amusement, and a real blessing to me.Again, to everyone----have a wonderful Holiday!



Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Stuff I Hate About The Holidays

the angry kitty captures my mood...

We're at that part of the holiday season where I begin to think Scrooge had a point---I mean Scrooge before his conversion. I feel like George Bailey when he knocked all the stuff off the table. Or the Grinch, when those damn Whos wouldn't shut up.

The Holidays can be wonderful, but aren't there times you just want to close the drapes and wish it was over?

So I thought I'd get this off my chest, and maybe the rest of the divas could too!

What is it that bugs you the most about the holiday season?

Here's my list:

1. Oprah's Favorite Things Show--I don't find it entertaining to watch middle-class people getting free presents. And the screaming! Now of course, all the shows are hopping on the bandwagon; I saw something similar on "Ellen" today.

2. Ice Storms--Now the ice storms we used to get in March come in December. Great.

3. Christmas Carols--I love the classics; it's the contemporary songs I'm talking about. Where are the new ones? Every year it's the same old stuff, over and over and over. I mean I loved "The Little Drummer Boy" as a kid, but if I hear it one more time, I'm gonnna hurl. And what about Kwanzaa, and Hanukkah? Can we sing about those holidays for a change?

4. The "War" On Christmas--I mean really, people. Come on, now!

5. Green Bean Casserole--This may sound weird for someone who cooks all the time with mushroom soup to say, but I really don't like it all that much. Can't we come up with a new, quick and easy vegetable dish to bring to the potluck?

Well, those are my issues.

What say you, my divas?


Wednesday, December 5, 2007

AREN'T THEY LOVELY? -- by Shadocat and Feminista (Grandmas)


All 9 pounds 8 ounces

21-1/2 inches of her


Alfedo Joaquin Pascual-Damian was born to my daughter Shakira Pascual-Lopez and Sergio Damian on 8/3/07 at a hospital outside Portland, Oregon. At just over 5 months, he weighs a healthy 15 lbs. He is cheerful, smiles a lot, and can sleep through most anything. Joaquin has 5 young (ages 8-13) tias (aunts) who help their mother Aracelia with his care.


Monday, December 3, 2007


I've been thinking a lot recently about my neighborhood. Stuart may be on a local food only kick, but I'm on a more general local business kick. And when I say "my" neighborhood, I do mean mine. I'm very possessive about Berkeley, because in a way, I've inherited it. My mom's family has lived here since the early 1940's, which makes me unusual in the transplant-heavy Bay Area. I live 5 minutes from where my mother grew up. The pharmacy lunch counter where she would stop for Cherry Cokes after school is still there, across from my apartment. Up until a couple of months ago, it was still open. The drugstore is there, but they aren't running the soda fountain at the moment.

Anyway, it wasn't the only old family business to survive on the street. In fact, up until recently, the closest thing to a chain in the 2 block stretch surrounding my house was "House of Curries," which has a couple of branches around Berkeley. The heart of the neighborhood is really that, a 2 block stretch that contained just about everything one could need in life.

I love my neighborhood. It sounds kind of strange, but I really love where I live. Because I think of this neighborhood (the Elmwood) as my own, I'm very protective. It's as if I'm 5 and I've lent you my toys. You can play with them, but you have to be nice and gentle or I'll get mad.

Herein lies the problem. My glorious little cocoon of little independent shops, all with classic architecture and fun and useful things, is under attack. Not a big, obvious attack, or anything, but something much more dangerous and subtle. Little by little, the family run businesses that have given the Elmwood its charm are being pushed out.

Originally, when the neighborhood was developed, in the early part of the century, it was designed to be completely self-sustaining. You had a post office, a hardware store, a pharmacy/soda fountain, an ice-cream shop, a laundry, a 5 and dime, a bank. A little later, there came the theater, the donut shop, a toy store, some small shops, a couple of restaurants, a bakery. Around the corner, my godparents opened the Star Grocery in 1922. With the exception of the bank (orginally the Mercantile Trust Co, then Wells Fargo) these were all independent, family owned businesses. The scene has changed some, but the character of the neighborhood is more or less intact.

That said, I'm terrified that in a few short years, the street will be taken over by developers. The unique shops and services will disappear and homogenous, horrible annonymity will take over. Then I get all morose and hope that my grandparents don't live to see it....

Some of the family businesses have left because there were no younger relatives able or willing to take over. That is sad, but is an understandable end to a business. Recently, though, it has been more due to rising rent for the store fronts. Can an ice cream shop make enough money in the cold season to pay the ridiculously high prices?

The other issue is that of zoning. This leads us into the treacherous waters of the Berkeley City Council. I'd be really curious to know whether all towns have to deal with such a circus. Despite claiming to support local business, the city council and zoning board seem hell bent on destroying all that makes a neighborhood sustainable and functional. For example: the owners of Bolfing's Elmwood Hardware,

which has been at the intersection of College and Ashby avenues since 1923, recently put in a bid for a permit to renovate. The building had the original plumbing, wiring, and warehouse space. They want to update all of these, obviously, as well as add some storage and office space. Oh, and handicapped accessible bathrooms. I know, shocking....

In order to help finance this, they proposed adding an upper floor with 3 apartments. This would alter the roofscape, but not in an obtrusive way. They were denied the variance. They can renovate and update the structural issues, but cannot add a couple of residences that would allow them to make the rent and pay the contractors. All of this while City Hall is touting "multi-use" buildings downtown, with retail space on the ground floor and condos on top.

But those are shiny, new, developer approved buildings, so they're special. Or something.

The hardware store is closed for at least 6 months while they work, but it is unclear whether they'll reopen at all, or if it will end up as another expensive clothing boutique. I loved not having to get in the car every time I needed light bulbs or hinges or something for the kitchen. I loved that the owners' kids worked there and that the older daughter was the most knowledgeable employee.

Anyway, while this long-standing, independent business is floundering, across the street lies the newest addition to the retail atmosphere. Lulu Lemon. If you've never heard of this store, it is because not only is it a chain, it's a foreign chain. It began in Vancouver, BC, and they sell yoga clothes. Incredibly expensive yoga clothes. Like, $60 for a teeny stretchy shirt, and things like that. Yoga clothes that you'd better stock up on if you find something you like, because in a couple of weeks it will be out of style and you'll never find it again.

Now, this shouldn't bug me, right? I don't do yoga and I don't buy expensive clothes, so why should I care? Well, a) they're a gigantic foreign chain in a neighborhood of family businesses and b) because their window displays are quite possibly the most offensive things you've ever seen. Seriously. One of the first after they opened a few months ago had some happy yoga mannequins celebrating on one side, and mannequins in work-clothes (the kind of stuff worn by retail folks and teachers and office flunkies) with bags flouting dollar signs covering the heads. Uh, right, because you can afford $60 yoga shirts if you don't work. Or, the way I that I interpreted it: working is for chumps. It's better to be an ultra yuppie yoga mommy and spend your incredible amount of free time (because you have a nanny even though you don't work) working on your "inner self."

I'm sorry, was that snarky? I'm a diva, after all, what else would you expect?

The other Very Bad Sign is that a developer has been granted a conditional permit to turn what used to be a small car-repair place and tow truck depot just below College Ave into a 5,000 square foot bar. They claim that it will not impact the traffic or parking at all. Yeah Right.

So Stuart may be torturing Clarice with local food and no heat, the latter of which I'm into, inasmuch as my limited budget will allow. I'm sure he knows all about local business and how when you buy from a chain, at least 80% of the money leaves the community immediately, never to return. I knew this before, of course, but it's hitting home a lot lately.

I'm finding myself very angry and unable to figure out what to do about it. Go to a city council meeting? They are routinely useless shouting matches that go into the wee hours of the morning. Write a petition? No one signs them, and no one likes getting hassled while walking down the street. I don't know how to make a difference, and that feeling of helplessness sucks.


Saturday, December 1, 2007


Four years ago, in December 2003, I rode the train three days to visit an ex in Oregon. It was an epic journey in a number of respects, but one of the stand-out memories is that the books I took to read were Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. I was astounded by how good they were, far better than Harry Potter or most so-called "adult" material. I couldn't believe everyone wasn't reading them and talking about them.

That train trip was a spiritual watershed, and the trilogy played a role in making it so. Now, finally, the first of the books, The Golden Compass is being released as a movie, and the Religious Right has moronically but predictably decided to agitate against it.

The New York-based Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights launched a boycott of the film, calling it "selling atheism to kids" at Christmastime in stealth fashion. Adam Holz of Focus on the Family, writing on the Christian ministry's Plugged In site, calls Pullman's books and the film a "deliberate attempt to foist his viciously anti-God beliefs upon his audience."

This is despite the fact that director Chris Weitz has said he cut controversial religious content to make the film more commercially viable, with the plan of being more faithful to the original material in sequels. For instance, the evil organization dominating the world is not "the church," as it is in the book, but the "Magisterium," which is getting criticism anyway because it's a Catholic term.

An article today in Huffington Post Golden Compass Points to Controversy does a good job of debunking the hue and cry. Yes, Pullman is a self-described atheist or agnostic, and he has been quoted as saying "I'm trying to undermine the basis of Christian belief." But being anti-Christian is often necessarily aligned with freedom of thought, and atheism often goes hand-in-hand with profound morality and spirituality. Just not the "state-approved" variety.

Indeed, according to the article, many Christians are coming out in defense of The Golden Compass. The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops rates the film "intelligent and well-crafted entertainment", adding "The film is not blatantly anti-Catholic but a "generalized rejection of authoritarianism."

Ah, but rejection of authoritarianism strikes at the heart of fundamentalist religious belief and is, according to their definition of g*d, "anti-God".

Quoting from the above article: "Donna Freitas, a visiting assistant professor of religion at Boston University, goes a step further, calling the books a 'theological masterpiece.' Pullman's intent aside, she views the trilogy as a treatise on Christian belief.

"To Freitas, the series' mysterious 'Dust' -- portrayed in the books as connected to original sin -- represents the Holy Spirit. Pullman is not attacking religion but those who use power to corrupt, she said."

Well, no wonder Focus on the Family is against it. Not to mention which, the main character is a girl and there's a group of amazing witches who help her out -- anathema!

Make no mistake about it, the Christian Right is adamantly opposed to freedom of thought and belief, especially as it is proferred to children. Their ranks are populated by those who are afraid of modernity and change, and they seek to roll our culture back to medieval circumstances -- with all the threat to women, racial minorities, Jews, science, and class mobility prevalent during that era. This week's Republican debate, tailored to appeal to that 28% base, very much reflects the emphasis on racial hatred and glorification of violence in the name of "morality" and "godliness" that is threatening the future of democracy in this country. The big battle, of course, is to restore habeus corpus, to stop torture and crusade-based wars, and to stop the election of those who believe not just in creating a theocracy but in such lunacy as that the earth is flat. (I'm not joking.)

But the smaller battle will be to take your children to see this movie, to allow it to expand their minds and give them that hand up. They'll need it when dealing with their peers, one-third of whom are being raised in a horrific vacuum devoid of diversity or independent thought.

P.S. The official website for the movie is located at The Golden Compass. Under the "Downloads" section is a quiz you can take to find out your own daemon. Mine was Pyrrheus, a Bengal tiger.


Thursday, November 29, 2007

More about Anne Frank's tree

The local board of whatever has decided to keep the tree, bracing it somehow to keep it together.

At annefrank.org. the offical website of the Secret Annex, they express worry. They believe there is no way to make the tree safe from falling. Worse, when it does fall theree's a chance that it may fall on the Secret Annex and destroy it.

The have a new tree ready, a graft from the original(not a seedling). It's about 2 meters tall and they expect it could grow to 10 metres in less than 10 years.

The Secret Annex people think a live "child" of the tree would make a better memorial than a preserved dead tree. Safety aside, I agree with them, and the safety issue worries me too.

I've checked the tree on the site's webcam recently on a windy day. Other trees were swaying in the wind, but the sick tree stood rigid, which is very bad. This indicates it's unhealthy and likely to break.


Sunday, November 18, 2007

Of Hope And Trees...

They're cutting down Anne Frank's tree.

The one she looked at while in hiding in Holland. The one she looked at nearly every day she was there, imagining what it would be like to be outside, under it's spreading branches, walking free.
Of course there's a compelling reason. The tree, a one-hundred and fifty year old chestnut, is slowly dying, rotting from a fatal, incurable fungus. It is very large, and is potentially dangerous; it could fall on persons or property at anytime. So I can see why it has to come down, but it makes it none the less sad.
Anne believed as long as her tree lived, so would she. And in a metaphorical way, that has been true. Anne's words and thoughts continue to live, louder many say, than any other of those voices silenced by the Shoah. I must confess, when I first read her diary, that time in history was not on my mind so much as that she was a kid like me; wanting to play, to have fun, to dream; getting her period, fighting with her mother, putting pictures of movie stars above her bed. I sympathized with her greatly when the dentist moved in---who would want to share a room with some old man--gross! (I'm channeling my inner thirteen year old here). I would've spent much of that time up in that attic, drawing that tree, yearning to get away.
Anne's tree puts me in mind of some other "literary" trees that kept their characters going; Francie's tree from "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn", or even the the little bit of "foliage" in O. Henry's "The Last Leaf", that kept a young girl from dying. But Anne's tree is real---Anne was real. For me, that makes the death of the tree just a little more heartbreaking.
Reports are that saplings have been taken from the original tree, and will be planted in it's place. Perhaps that is some comfort.


Saturday, November 10, 2007

Belated Día de los Muertos

Feminista of Maoist Orange Cake has requested a post about the Calexico/Mexicali Day of the Dead, a Border Wall art show recently reported on at the Portland (Oregon) Independent Media Center. Kim Alphandary has a lovely set of images up at her blog, along with excellent cultural explanations which begins with:

"Here on the border fence between Calexico and Mexicali, cities that emerge on both sides of the US-Mexican Border paintings were on display for the Day of the Dead Celebration Nov. 1 and 2, 2007.

Day of the Dead images usually consist of a skull or skeleton dressed as living beings, acting out various real life activities. Some of the more common images depicted are: Catrina, Mariachis, the Reaper, the revolutionary/outlaw Pancho Villa, and Jesus. Here in Mexicali, virtually all the paintings made depicted border stories. Death and rebirth, what the border gives us (them)."


(The Thinker)

(Christ and the Border)

(Climbing the Wall)

(Statue of Liberty/Death)

Para los
Muertos vivos
Para los muertos
que no se han
ido; y para los gone;
vivos que siguen
a los que en-
comiendan su
Muerte a la vida
y para los que
mueren Viviente
La Vida

For the
Living Dead
For the dead
that have not
gone; and for the
living that continue
living dead
to those who
entrust their
Death to Life
and for those who
die living


Monday, November 5, 2007

More Halloween stuff

Type your summary here

Type rest of the post here

So here I am, trying to see if I can add photos on my own. In case you didn't know, you can click on the table of pumpkins in the previous post and see them enlarged. Mr Gator did the ship and wave. I did white skull, star-eyes, square-tooth bat, small circle eyes and red snake.

I'm especially pleased with the skull and am adding another image of it.

I hope you like the enclosed link-I'm not sure how this link addition thing works.


Wednesday, October 31, 2007


By request, below the fold we're going to post photos of some costumes worn by Maoist Orange Cakers this year and in the past. If you'd like to add to this line-up, e-mail your JPEGs, GIFs or BMPs to one of us. And please continue celebrating little gator's post on Halloween.

The beauty of hand-made costumes, using masks from Venice and creative assemblage:

(Kat, Halloween 2007)

(Creating that medieval "layered look")

(Kat's boyfriend, Halloween 2007)

(Kat's boyfriend Halloween 2007, close-up of mask)

Costumes used by Kat's dear friend Paul Joseph Serna of the Houston Grand Opera in production of Un ballo in maschera (A Masked Ball) and La fille du regiment (The Daughter of the Regiment)

little gator has come through with some photographs of her pumpkin carving party for 2007 and the glorious results, below. In the last photo, the woman in white shirt and black pants is little gator -- only a backside view, maybe we get to see your face next time, too? (please?)

This is not a Halloween costume -- rather, it's from my infamous Pirate Birthday Party of 1984, at Lake Merced in San Francisco. A rowdy crew of dykes and children dressed as brigands swarmed the rowboat concession at the lake. We had cutlasses, pistols (my flintlock shot caps -- o how I love cap pistols!), a plank to walk, and cannonballs (dodgeballs painted black). Within half an hour, we'd cleared the lake of anyone but us. My Chocolate Heart Attack cake from Just Desserts had to be cut with a plastic dagger. This shot is after my roommate and one of the great loves of my life, Sharon "Lava" Franklet had persuaded me to insert my flintlock into my breeches for added effect -- I let her do the placement and adjusting. I was an out-of-control Mary Bonney. It was my first birthday after Mama died. The tattoo between my exposed cleavage was a red rose emblazoned with "Mom."

Last, but not least:

(Ghost doggies, as references in little gator's post)


Thursday, October 25, 2007


(Lydia and pals waiting for The Great Pumpkin at the Gators' house, Halloween 2006)

This is my set of memories, so I'm not going into the origins and possible meanings of Halloween, or the history and alternate spelling fo the name itself. To me, it's a time for certain types of goofy fun.

Pigging out on candy, dressing up as things or people you are not, being scared or pretending to be scared of things that are supposed to be scary or disgusting, creating my favorite ephemeral folk art, running around alone in the dark and for one night a year feeling safe doing so -- what's not to like?

I know a lot of adults who hate handing out candy, but I'm not one of them.

My earliest memory is of the clown suit in the basement. I though it was icky, and not in a good way. It was the right size for a 4 or 5 year old, and I'd probably had a turn wearing it.

We wore our costumes to school if we wanted to, and we usually did. They carefully explained that the "trick" part of "trick or treat" was obsolete and mean, and if someone didn't have goodies for us we should be polite. We got our little boxes for pennies for UNICEF. Later I learned that was intended to replace begging for candy, not supplement it. And we all knew which kids gave brought the money to turn in at school amd which kids kept it. I haven't been asked for Halloween UNICEF money in ages -- do they still do that?

The earliest Halloween I remember I was in second grade, and my mother made me a witch costume. Her black skirt, when safety pinned to fit my waist, almost reached my ankles. I wore a plain white shirt and a black shawl borrowed from my grandmother, and of course I carried a broom. The only thing that cost money was the hat.

(Origami witch)

In third grade, we made hideous masks in school from paper grocery bags. I wanted to use mine, of course, but what to do about the rest of me? Mom to the rescue again. She gave me a long striped satin bathrobe in metallic colors, mostly purple and black. It was icky in a very fun way.

She's never been able to remember where she got it.

The sad thing was there were 11 houses on our street, and we weren't allowed on the busy main road, so only once got the huge sack of goodies some of my friends had. We'd be finished in a very short time. One family always made exactly 12 popcorn balls. There were many more than 11 children on the street, so that house was usually a waste. When my mother checked our candy and saw the popcorn ball she's ask who gave it to us, we'd say "Mrs. Sousa" and she'd say that was ok then. I wished just once she'd remember.
(The Halloween Tree, book and cover painting by Ray Bradbury)
Then came the glorious year of fifth grade. I was to go the whole length of a residential country road with my best friend Debbie, and then stay over at her house. It was everything I'd missed, and oddly enough, once was enough. My paper bag robot costume fell apart early on, but even that didn't matter -- I'd made it myself which made it all good.

The very last time I was in high school and too old, but I was my youngest sister's chaperone and didn't take any goodies, which made it ok. I didn't bother with a costume but I did comb my long hair over my face, put my glasses over it, and said I was Cousin Itt.
(The Bell Witch)
Our first house was in an isolated spot on a dead end at the bottom on a hill, and no one came there. So I started going out myself to a crowded area not far away, to admire the kids and pumpkins. I took my dog along and put a baggy t-shirt on her, pinning up the bottom so she didn't trip or pee on it. This went on for many years, and sometimes I had 2 dogs (all my dogs have been assorted Coonhounds). Kids who had no idea who I was would yell "Look! It's the ghost doggies!" One time someone called me over to the house for a dog biscuit for Rikki. Another time Rikki and I were standing in the road watching a busy house while a mother was near me watching her daughter go to that house. She gave me a disapproving look , so I asked her how she liked my son's dog costume. She couldn't get away from me fast enough. I even met another ghost doggie, whose human said I'd inspired him to do that. This one was a German Shepherd in a tight child's t-shirt -- cute but not very ghostly.

Now I live on a long residential road similar to the one Debbie lived on. Sometimes we get lots of kids, sometimes none. We're near the top of a hill now and some can't be bothered to make the hike. I had the honor of seeing the neighbors' grandson as a vampire in regular baby clothes and a black cape. All he understood was the candy.

My mother stays over at our overly decorated house (we have a reputation by now) on Halloween, and I buy too much candy and you can guess what I do with it. Sadly, I had to go chocolate free this year since my migraines won't let me eat chocolate anymore. Keep Lindt truffles for the parents (only white chocolate this year. sigh), coins just in case, the usual candy for kids, and Halloween themed cheap toys from Oriental Trading.

I haven't seen the two girls lately -- they've probably gotten too old for it. They were close friends who always dressed as the same thing, but in different styles. One year they were both witches, another year they were both angels.

And then there's the pumpkins. As a child we were rationed -- one pumpkin each and we had to carve it outdoors so the house wouldn't get messy. We used to walk about 1/2 mile to a farm stand to get them. One year my brother got one too big to carry and dragged it home on his coat.

Now I always have a bunch of them, homegrown in a good growing year. The Pumpkin Masters gave me tools that made it easier, but I did ok with just kitchen knives. And to me it's just not right unless it's a face, preferably smiling with lots of teeth. I used to draw them before I carve, but now I usually do them freehand.

Most years I have a BYOP carving party. It's always more fun if someone brings children, and I encourage them to not worry about messes, telling them I'll clean up later. I got to teach 2 small boys the phrase "pumpkin guts" while their mother and aunt wondered how they'd ever forgotten to educate them on that.
(After Pumpkin Carving Party 2006 at the Gators' house.)
I torment my friends. Every time I make the first cut to open a pumpkin I sing "the first cut is the deepest."

Sometimes I make rat cupcakes. I bend disposable mini loaf pans into vaguely ratty shapes and make cake (one box mix makes 8 rats) They have candy corn ears, red candy eyes, and gummi worm tails. Best of all, I slit their little tummies and pipe in some red frosting for rat guts. Most people find 1/2 rat is enough, and I'm always happy to tell them that I give a rat's ass.

And finally, a few days later, I carefully place the pumpkins on the compost pile and watch them rot away without having to be close enough to smell them as they enrich the soil for the next years crop.

Poem written by gator's mother with a Halloween-themed Poetry Magnet Kit, unpunctated as is traditional with poetry magnets:

October night
carve a pumpkin
wicked fright
werewolf costume
may I speak
spooky witch
trick or shriek

Untitled by gator

a fat pumpkin was decorated for Halloween
a child carved a face with big silly teeth and creepy eyes
a candle glowed in its head
costumed kids loved the ghostly weirdness

yet after October
lies a silent corpse
smelly bruised and melancholy
its cracked decaying skin
hides cold orange guts and slimy seeds
it slowly rots into wilted dirt
recalling a magic autumn night

Untitled also by gator

black and orange candy corn
in the graveyard zombies born
kids as monsters eerie sky
in rotting caskets corpses lie
evil goblins waking dead
bloody fangs and severed head
vampires drink live peoples gore
that's what Halloween is for