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When musing on all things quite dead

There isn’t much that need be said

Of film unique as it is amateur

The grisly Texas Chainsaw Massacre

It’s story simple, plot most absent

A fever dream, like hit of acid

The slasher tropes, we’ve come to know

Came from this film, made long ago

Van full of friends in backwoods town

Clueless of what’s going down

They stumble on a house most strange

But soon are chased by fiend deranged

This hulking figure haunts this place

Offbeatly known as “Leatherface”

And one by one they meet their deaths

In ways so grim, it steals your breath

Tableaux of horror that’s not been seen

Since crimes of lunatic Ed Gein…

The minds of such are oh so addled

As if their psyche has been saddled

With all the horrors of the world

The line twixt good and grim is blurred

To make some sense is errand foolish

There is no probing things so ghoulish

As entertainment, is there worth?

Could insights even be unearthed?

But as with all things burned in mind

The years to this film have been kind

Can’t help but drawn like moth to flame

We still seek that which mars and maims

As talisman to work like charm

Keeps foul on screen, and us from harm…

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