Let’s face it, 2020 has been frustrating, stressful and one for the history books. Still not over right? Which is why we’re excited to invite the public to forget their troubles for awhile and escape the world “out there” for the secret story chambers of The South’s most legendary cemetery and under The Hunter’s Blue Moon for 3 Nights of Halloween! So forget the election! Forget the media!! Forget your woes and let storyist Shannon Scott hypnotize you for a few hours with Bonaventure’s taboo and mesmerizing tales! You’ll never be so happy to never want to leave a cemetery!
So forget the city ghost tour crowds and come get the most exclusive, uninterrupted night experience of them all!
Patrons receive 18 x 24 Official Poster based on images you see below, signed personally by Shannon Scott! Looks stunning on a wall framed!
Call 1.912.319.5600 Specific Questions? firstname.lastname@example.org
by Shannon Scott (C) 2015
Click To Hear Shannon Recite This Poem
So many you to choose
So many you to know
So many you to admire
So many you to grow
The you that rises so early,
to make herself all pearly
The you that breezes the city
and makes hard work look so easy
The you that decorates, stays tidy
and keeps things so straight.
The you that wears things sassy
but keeps it all so classy.
The you that creates words of feeling,
and pushes poetry’s ceiling.
The you that brushes canvas,
and gives your soul’s color new compass.
The you that senses, sees, shoots,
and gives film unimagined roots.
The you that records ever word of every song ever heard.
The you that is there, gives much care.
while others just stare.
The you that plays, nurtures & defends,
one of man’s best friends.
The you that rolls and jams,
showing of one of the world’s toughest lambs.
There are more yous in you than there are minutes in a day.
There are more yous in you than this poem can’t help to convery.
With you, one is never bored with things to say.
You make art of yourself in every possible way.
My favorite you?
How can I pick?
Me choosing a favorite is almost sick.
Maybe the best is yet to be done.
But if I must, there is just this one.
Its my pet favorite and my secret crush.
The one I caught glimpses of and made my love blush.
Now and then I could conjure it with a joke.
Or if I said something wry.
When this you came it was so revealing and unshy.
All that was kempt, came unkempt,
and it would let fly.
High walls tumbled, muscles unrumpled,
and blood filled up.
From deep inside you this beautiful sound,
began to go eruptible.
Joyous noise completion and vibration uncorruptible.
Jarring was its witness.
But seductive none the subtle
Head rearing back, eyes gleaming lightning beams.
Tears welling up
Champagne bottles shooting streams.
Cheeks filling peak for the coming shrieks.
Lips slivering long, delivery ready,
for your heart’s song.
When it sprung on the air, it surrounded me,
and spun me like a top.
But so delicious to hear I never wanted it to stop.
When I felt of its causation?
I never felt such glad sensation!
I’d done something well in your heart’s nation.
Your body in perfection.
Your soul’s music a vexation.
Your spirit in its truest,
and suddenly on vacation.
This is my favorite you.