For the newbies who flock to our list-
Some character points can be missed
When you're new to the art.
So to give you a start
I've decided to hereby post this!

Our dear Dr. Venkman- ah, Peter.
Although he could prob'ly be neater,
When doling out smarm
Or bodily harm
To Egon, there's nobody sweeter.

Egon's the blond with the hair-
It's funky, but Spengs doesn't care.
He loves physics and Twinkies
And HAS played with Slinkies-
And pulls PKE meters out of thin air.

Then there's our bouncy boy, Ray.
Nothing can ruin his day.
Not a Class Ten repeater
That blows up the meter-
"Oh, WOW!" is what he'll likely say.

Winston's the one with the sense
And his knowledge of books is immense.
He's calmer than most,
Doesn't balk at a ghost,
But the job does sometimes make him tense.

Miss Melnitz, the lovely Janine,
To our Peter can seem somewhat mean.
Though she loves Egon best,
She cares much for the rest,
Though her softer side's not always seen.

And lastly, we come to the Spud.
Slimer, he thinks Peter's his bud.
Though he constantly eats
And slimes Peter's sheets,
Somehow, his name isn't yet mud.

I hope this cleared up a few things,
Like the confusion newness often brings.
If you stick to the facts
When writing your tracts,
You'll avoid the critics' sharpest stings.
 

Ten Years After

The greatest irony of time-
This place is haunted still.
Not from the thousands
Of restless souls
Trapped within the grid,
But by four roving shades
That lurk from room to room.
For the strongest ghosts are memories,
And here they linger, warm,
Inviolate, and wait
For an unsuspecting soul.
 

Anniversary

Green eyes shine from a passing star,
A squeal of brakes from a passing car
Brings back a thousand hopes and fears.
And who'd have dreamed, after ten years?
A creak on the stairs brings no relief,
Four empty faces heal no grief,
And the days go passing cold and slow
Since darkness fell, ten years ago.
Take out the masks once put aside
When no reasons were left to hide.
And keep pretending to enjoy the ride.
Ten years of life-- since all life died.
 

Standoff

In our hands we hold the light,
Power of the stormy days,
And stand against the black of night.

Energy goes dancing bright
Cutting through the murky haze.
In our hands we hold the light.

Only four to stand and fight
Against the evil waves that raise,
And stand against the black of night.

Screaming bolts of purest white
Across the starry midnight blaze.
In our hands we hold the light.

The rising dark obscures my sight,
But friends are there to meet my gaze
And stand against the black of night.

My friends beside me, as is right,
We'll face the dark a thousand ways.
In our hands we hold the light
And stand against the black of night.
 

Sometimes

Sometimes,
A feeling is so strong
It bends the world around it
And it lingers in its place.
Sometimes,
We call those places haunted.
Though in point of fact, no spirit
Walks along its ways.
Sometimes,
They are places filled with anger,
Where a bright light was cut down
And ever after, darkness hovers there.
Sometimes,
Some are sad and empty,
With a grief that lingers on
For years and years.
And sometimes,
They bring peace in brightest sunlight,
Wrapped around with laughter
And with love.
That's the firehouse.
Alone, in the old bedroom,
Sunlight sleeting through the glass,
I can sometimes hear the laughter,
I can almost hear the past.
Sometimes.
 

Grundel Song

Come and walk the night with me,
Rise, it's time to play.
Think of all the fun we'll have
By night or in the day.
No one really loves you.
No one else will care.
They turn their backs and walk away,
They can't see what is there.
The wind will whisper freedom,
The dark will cover all,
And we will climb the heights and I
Will catch you, should you fall.
Oh, think of the adventure
That is waiting to begin.
And all the power in your hands
If you'll invite me in.
 

Christmas Eve

Midnight's chime has spoken,
The others are asleep.
The tree is glowing softly
As down the stairs I creep.
The rooms are still and quiet,
The lights are turned down low,
And here the air is calm and warm,
And stands against the snow.
Sitting here, in shadowed light,
I listen to them snore,
And know that I won't be alone
When I mount the stairs once more.
Outside the air is howling
As the icy north winds blow,
But here the walls are strong and thick,
And stand against the snow.
In the kitchen window,
I can barely catch the light
Where an electric candle burns
Alone against the night.
A beacon for the wanderers
Who came by, years ago
Searching for a shelter that
Would stand against the snow.
Too many years I wandered,
My footsteps far from home.
Long after I'd grown weary, still
I felt the need to roam.
Not long ago, I walked there,
Where howling winters blow,
But now I'm safe inside four hearts
That stand against the snow.
 

Christmas at the Firehouse

It's the Ghostbusters' Holiday Party!
Tonight, it's the one place to be!
Peter is "watching" the punch bowl,
And Slimer's romancing the tree!
(Hey, it's got gingerbread cookies)
(And garlands of popcorn strung through!)
Egon is avoiding the punch bowl--
Methinks that's the smart thing to do.
Winston has dug out some albums,
And Ray's decorated quite thick.
(I guess it makes up for the tree he brought home--)
(He pitied it 'cause it looked sick.)
Janine now has deigned to bring rum balls,
And Peter thinks that they're quite nice.
She's also the one who brought mistletoe
And has almost trapped Egon there twice.
The music is warm now, and mellow,
And it's not just the lights that shine bright.
Though they may regret it in the morning,
Everyone's happy tonight!
 

Waiting

There's dirty laundry on the floor,
Dropped as they rushed out the door,
Today was Peter's turn once more.
For that, they'll all come back.
The coffee mugs, still sitting out,
Each proclaim in silent shout
That their return is not in doubt.
I know they're coming back.
I know it's been a little long,
But I know too that they are strong.
They can handle it... if things go wrong.
They will be coming back.
I haven't watched the news today.
There's nothing the TV can say
To change my mind in any way.
They're surely coming back.
Egon's things are growing mold.
The guys would never be so bold
To leave them... Coffee's getting cold.
When are they coming back?
Outside is shining night's first star,
A rumble from a coming car.
I run outside, and there they are.
About time you got back.