SpectreLand

I keep the horror in my bedside table drawer
turn it on high when I need a blood transfusion
and a bad dream
the hinges scream
wake up the neighbors
they cover their ears
knowing it's happening again
who is that raven haired ghost?
they know I'm haunting the rooms
moving the walls
tossing the furniture
ripping up the floor boards
and in the morning
it will all be back in place
just like no one was ever there
the quiet
will be frightening
stillness
becomes a horror of its own
I own it
parade it around
like a rotting gown
all laced Victorian will
mourning enamel etched into the crowns
little skulls
with grinning faces
a flowing of eyes
drifting in on gossamer mist
the staircase breathes
shifts and creaks
the walls rupture
the yellow paper covering it
runs about the room
in skittering little patterns
around the edge
that woman chases it
never leaves it
I watch her struggle
float to the ceiling
drip blood onto the heads
of craning necks
and tourists
there's a severed limb
in the hallway
it makes a nice decoration
you can plant flowers
in the empty sockets
we got trapped here
when we tried to leave
violence pinned us down
like butterflies
on felt backgrounds
we are the edge
the living fear
and move as vapor
through these timeless scenes
unrelenting in our recollections
always fearful of what we knew
we have no end
we are the reflection
we have no way
even the greatest exorcist
can not clear us out
we are the denizens
of this house
and I know above all else
there is nothing better
on the other side

Born Wrong (Hillbilly)

I was born on the wrong side of the tracks
to the wrong sort of people
in that wrong countryside

our fertile feilds
only housed herds of wild black sheep
turning our souls over
to family absorbed from all points

a big white dog
chained in the front yard
barking at strangers

half a dozen junked trucks
up on the flattened road
the old trailers out back
wild roses enclosing the property

the house full of books
stacked in great big cases up to the ceiling

the tourists stopping to take pictures
on the long back road down to the ferry
asking why anyone would live like this

"but isn't that garden pretty!
oh how quaint!"

us silently pissed at every one of them
breaking the calm hot day
with their gawking
'we live here to get away from you fuckers'
we mumble out loud

an old rich man
looking in the door to say
"oh how cozy!"

to that small cabin
kept warm by my great grandmother's cookstove
and decorated with my grandmother's paintings

the ghost standing at the window
frowning at guests
my mom chasing trigger happy
American hunters from the 400 acres of grasslands and hills

"Can't you fuckin' read the 'NO HUNTING' signs!"

attentive dog close to her heals
letting out a loud bark
warning the bears to stay away

up in our fruit trees
stealing big fat pears
ripping the branches down

"Goddamn it!" my mother yelled
setting the dog on them

they say we were born wrong
no wealth
no health
no city streets
no shopping districts
no fast cars
no big buildings
no theatres
no banks
no convenience stores

only miles upon miles of land
treacherous in its beauty
stretching out to the horizon

the careful wind blowing down the valley
bring the heady scent of alfalfa blooms
and baking grass in the sunlight

only the constant rush of the creek by the house
clear water over coloured worn rocks
with green grass snakes fishing at the edge

fat crickets singing love songs
and orange-bummed bees buzzing
in my mom's catnip bush

we were born all wrong
we live all wrong
at just the right time
in just the right place
on ancestral homestead
down the slopes of this never ending country

curse your cities
curse your highways
curse your speed
and curse your inability to understand

the simple joy of fresh baked bread
and a fire in the camp pit
out back
starring at a million billion stars
stretching on the cusp of forever

Fucker

though faceless and thick
it knows its way around the room
it knows the secret names
I keep for things
and where I hide my chocolate bars
its leafing through my magazines
digging around in my porn stash
rearranging the shelves
and driving me crazy
it broke several glasses
smashed them to little bits
on the kitchen floor
ate all the cereal
and put the milk carton
back in the fridge empty
it smoked my last cigeratte
and finished the bottle of Jim Beam
it scratched up my favorite records
dog eared my books
got into my drugs
and smoked them all up
it stole my poems
and read them aloud
cackling wildly
it spent the night passed out
on the bathroom floor
and used all the hot water
if I could just get my hands on it
I'd strangle it all the way
when I look straight forward
I see the two of us
but when I turn my head
no one's there
and my fingers pass through air

Dead Channel

I can hear you
trying to haunt me
your voice
coming through
like broken static
phonetic
frantic
cracked and crackling
ghost transmissions
on the still air of bright nights

hey, those
radio frequencies
my silver fillings
are trying to pick up
static
where your words
used to be
hissing through
the frayed wiring
of my soul
come in over Toyko
somewhere over Hawaii
can you hear me?

rattling around in my head
reverberating off the walls
I turn over
I turn the dial
I change the channel
big old test pattern
in the sky
the colour of scratched records

you got some
tv antennas caught in your hair
and big parasitic
advertisers jacking your waves
reprogramming
your late night
monster movies
to sell us
sentimental bullshit
packaged in sexist
dessert recipes
and bikini photos

you haunt me
with noise
broadcast every stupid thought
straight through rewiring
down fiber-optic cables
and up old copper tubes
I take the old Nintendo
into the other room
I'm going to play Mario
until dawn crackles
out distant warnings
over electric mountians
to drown out
your moaning
straight through the charged air
all wireless
until the end of my ears

only binary coded
sunlight knows the truth
and you turned it all off
years ago
anyways
the great switch in the sky
hard wired to your passing whims
'hey there
dancing robot girl
get up and dance for me'
I'd give anything to be
a sexy cyborg demon
and eat your
cognitive
heart right out of your
shiny tin chest

fuck the stars
in the space we
burned out for them
and fuck your
electornic
advances
while we're at it
I'll see you in the Hell
where they send rotary phones
and rabbit eared TV sets
you'll find me on the throne
cybernetic vengaence
with your name
still warm on my lips
and your robotic blood
still sticky on my hips