#I would sell my soul to a washing machine demon in a heartbeat

[misc-magic]

Thought my washing machine was possessed, but no my sheets were just unevenly distributed.

[myspookysunshine]

Original Poetry Dump Post

These were written under dustyirish, my other url, so I promise I am not plagiarizing myself. Bad poetry, but what the fuck. It was heartfelt at least. : )

NYC

I got your number. NYC; confusion, cacophony, crazy smell of taxi exhaust inexplicably smothered by the smell of roasted beans mocha latte grande whatthefuckever just give me Coffee boring and hot you laugh and it sounds genuine but my hearing isn't what it used to be. the horde floods past, fighting for air threatening to sweep us up in the flow you stand firm and vanish them with a drawl southern magician in a Ramones tee your hand brushes my arm accident or promise? that pinky sure felt like promise. yeah I got your number better yet I got your smile.

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Discordance

Every night, 9:00 a solo goose flies overhead, late to the party offering his lonesome song to the night he's easy to single out the notes are slightly strange; a hoarse, desperate honking not quite like the others waiting at the pond 9:00, on the nose, I hear his tone deaf journey I always look up and smile. I can relate.

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Yarrow

Dawnlight breaks across the land birds call on the hill but in the valley down below the farm lies strangely still cows low crossly, needing milked morning chores gone unattended wash forgotten on the line a rocking chair upended bright flowers bent and broken by a shadow come to pass something that is not paint spilled upon the blades of grass wheat sways gently in a breeze that reeks of secret sorrow and last night's sin lies waiting amongst the fields of yarrow.

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Grandmother

You laugh at the sky. The picture's in black and white, but I know that ugly blue bathing suit scuffed in the rear from years of poolside sitting one strap permanently twisted from some washing machine trauma I was mortified by it then; I would give anything to see it now. You laugh at the sky, carefree and wild/beautiful, wind whipping dark hair into something approaching chaos Bettie Page on the edge of a hurricane. Your arms reach for me; I, that sepia child, race for them. As I recall, there was an embrace and promises of baby bunnies but memories are funny things; they seek one another, merge, then hide themselves away in corners.

You're in color now, though the room is kept dim machines beep a monotonous rhythm that some dark part of me wishes would just go silent. I stand, arms outstretched, waiting for my embrace. Time and tubes and coma be damned. You're still laughing at the sky.

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Solitary Duck

Eighteen months and here in this youless reality tattered grocery lists become relics tears are shed over cow slippers a stray Butterfinger wrapper lies under the bed, coiled, ready to strike I would pick up a sword to protect a voicemail I would sell my soul to still believe in ghosts.

They said malignancy I became five again; all I wanted was my mommy I settled for sharing the news with a rectangle of sod and a solitary mallard on the duck pond.

Isn't it funny how shared laughter sounds like music the same joke, told alone, sounds like madness

I live to pluck words from the ether The most elusive (and the one I fear most) is goodbye.

Leprechaun

It was a day for celebrating. Exactly what was being celebrated she had forgotten (if she ever knew) but attendance seemed to be required.

So she went.

She took a deep breath, steeled herself and walked into the gathering.

A shirtless leprechaun sat in the corner, softly crooning The Doors 'Love Street', plucking out the notes on a tiny piano held in his lap.

He was no Jim Morrison, granted, but was anyone?

She stepped further into the room and the atmosphere changed.

Whisky bottles were festooned with shamrock stoppers, green beer flowed freely from taps, a musky green scent perfumed the air.

Pretty people getting ugly drunk.

A shoving match broke out between a tall man and a misplaced clown. She side-stepped the melee with ease.

She had crafted invisibility into an art form.

In the center of pushed-back chairs, couples danced to contemporary music. Their bodies moved to the pulsing rhythm but their eyes were dead.

She tried a bit of everything on offer, musky green burning between her fingers as she retraced her steps, back towards the known.

No one asked her to dance, and this was not necessarily a bad thing. She was afraid to be swept up in their nothingness.

There once was a yesterday bride seeking happiness somewhere inside she was dimly aware that the spark was still there But that fucker, it knew how to hide.

In the end, she returned to the leprechaun.

His head rested back against the plaster, hair flowing in loose curls to his shoulders. He had moved on to 'Soul Kitchen' and he was suddenly beautiful.

She slid to the floor beside him, lay a hand on his ankle and closed her eyes.

What she lacked in visibility she made up for in imagination.

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Three

His kiss is wildfire, eager and consuming Yours a gentle rain to temper the flames laid down together they alter my landscape forever make way for new growth

(you both taste of conviction)

His eyes shout for desperate truth Yours whisper questions and secret pain combined, they stare into the depths of me clear my path to perception

(you both see into the shadows)

your breaths mingle on my skin which touch is which has lost meaning there is no division here oneness rough and smooth sharp and drawl chaos and peace the differences blend into something nearing perfection Twenty fingers twine, seeking my heart

finding my soul

I take you both into myself and in doing so perhaps I can absorb his laughter and your tenderness

(you are both strength)

two men, one woman evolve into the unknown.

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Knotted Noose

I was there when the songs formed in basement band trial and error in beer and sweat and frustration in epiphany I slipped away then you Slipped Away I never heard the music that was formed after you lost yourself among the masks and pharmaceuticals you've been gone so long now memories have faded down to driving, pulsing bass a worn high school jersey and the places where you liked my tongue.

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Cancer

I look in the mirror my silhouette is off-kilter I stand, lopsided and pining for something I never thought I would miss. Two hours under the knife equals twenty years of aging biology isn't supposed to work that way the math is wrong, goddammit. Now, even in my dreams, I am unwhole I am old there is hesitation in reaching hands there is hesitation in my reaching back If I could ask this disease one question it would be this : Was that truly necessary; couldn't you have left me my dreams?

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Cowboy Prince

Full Texas moon tinged with blood above a half-gone bottle of Jameson rolls in time with your hips your balled-up army jacket cradles my head your heartbeat cradles my senses your body is the only warmth I need against the chill in the air Zombie on vocals backed by coyotes we merge in this wonderland where a rusted out Silverado becomes a horse-drawn carriage you are my cowboy prince and a hi-top sneaker turns to glass.

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Yo--Ville

was what we called it I don't know why but it seemed to fit

(maybe it was a vibe thing)

music never ceased within its walls 24/7 lullaby the tunes created weren't good

(but the intentions were)

tofu was a confusing concept to my young mind and I rode on the back of a Harley in a miniskirt

(that scar is all I have left)

a drifter lived silent in the corner bedroom he carried his life in a backpack he could speak but chose not to

(and nobody thought it was strange)

The singer was a woman who dressed in tattered tie-sye she was angry and mysterious and beautiful

(I wanted her desperately)

Jesus was a man named Bob He never walked on water but we all believed he could

(if he could only find the ambition)

I was on a path back then and somewhere between there and here I strayed and lost myself.

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Perspective

Yes, it's true.

There are scars under my fingertips when they whisper along your thigh I run my tongue over teeth that aren't aligned with precision I have to pause ecstasy for a moment to kiss stray tears from your cheeks My arms stay around you in sleep to ward off demons I can't see

It's all true.

But what you don't realize is that your imperfections make you my perfect.

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Lesson

don that mask, hide yourself away whisper sweet lies in my ear lay your heart bare to be trod upon drown yourself in fear side with monsters, fight the light let the decades take their toll be the bringer of Death if you must but never whore your soul.

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To The Unknown

Here you sleep, under cold pink marble and sentiment - well-meant but generic - in lieu of identity. I never knew your heart; if it was nurtured with kindness or made to hide away and beat in fear. I never saw your smile; if it was a shy, sweet blossoming or if it burst like sun flare, lighting up your eyes. I never heard your voice; if it was soft and melodic or booming and brash, filled with mischief. But oh I wish I could hear it now, whispering a name to etch upon this stone.

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Effigy

The scent of you lingers on pillowslips the mattress still holds your shape I use an old flannel for a nightshirt an acoustic guitar for a teddy bear I'm left with all the pieces that don't make up a whole You are only here in effigy and I can't find a match.

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Zephyr

I was numb before I met you soul shot full of novocaine I'm numb after I left you it's a numbness of the brain you whispered soft instruction a curriculum to maintain you first taught me oblivion then you taught me pain nothing much left standing now only crumbling walls remain you came in like a zephyr and went out a hurricane.

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Wish

Last night I discovered your words tucked away among dusty knickknacks on a back garage shelf.

I wish I knew how they had come to be hidden. I wish they had found a more dignified resting place. I wish you could have spoken them aloud. I wish I didn't understand the whys. I wish I had opened that box earlier. I wish I had never opened that box.

Last night I found your goodbye and today I wish I was still unaware that a heart can break twice.

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Taboo

The only two left floating high and exhausted in a sea of beer-swept men couch springs prod your spine but he is familiar comfort his lap a favorite pillow a slight shift of your head a slight shift in your friendship and lips are tracing denim steel you know the unspoken language of him you are fluent in his groans this one screams fucking finally fingers catch in your hair ghost along your inked bicep interpreting the coded message

'Break glass in case of emergency'

his cock pulses against your tongue your own thrums in time a driving, crescendoing drum beat he belongs to someone else you don't belong even to yourself together, here, you belong Wrong? Forbidden? Taboo? you wouldn't know as the taste of him floods your mouth words have ceased to exist.

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Horse

We flew, you and I, across years wind in my hair, dust in my nostrils wildfire under my skin we rode on trails of deception under the illusion that I held the reins.

One day you balked and bucked me hooved death came down beside my head knocked some courage loose I corralled you, slammed the gate and limped away bruised but triumphant.

I never was good at mending fences.

You've broken free and galloped back whinnied softly against my ear and I can only savor the ride as I settle into this well-worn saddle molded to the shape of me.

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Just Be

I first saw you on your rooftop sanctuary hiding tears behind a cigarette you'd forgotten where you put your laughter but managed to find where I'd put my soul your shadow was beautiful Just Be, I whispered you sobbed against my shoulder smoke and cologne and tears and I fell, far more than the three stories to the ground fear of not being everything Just be, I whispered, and guided you into me and it was imperfect perfection I can be strong enough for both of us the sanctuary of my mind the lesson held even if we didn't I saw you yesterday, up on stage doubt in your eyes I closed my own and whispered Baby, just be.

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