Happy Travels…

I’ve travelled through Madness just to get completely lost in it because there’s no goddamned MAP! Who in hell is responsible for this? No map! Not even some sort of guide to navigate it!–No book. Not one person here knows where he is going or even from whence he came! Even god is deaf and blind and dumb, especially to any of the poor fools who wander too far into this muck….look at my shoes! All you see is feet because my shoes….they’re just…gone! My shoes got stuck in the thickest stickiest mud I’ve ever trudged through….ever….!
That was thousands of miles and years ago so I’ve not a clue where they are exactly, but if you come across them…..you should probably take them with you because you will lose your own shoes if you haven’t already by the time you find them, and if your feet aren’t way too big or small, you can wear mine once you get to the mass of red hot rocks. Be very cautious though because I’m pretty sure these rocks are only as red hot as they are because there’s a giant fire-breathing lizard who also pisses acid somewhere in the vicinity…..I’m not sure how I got over such a hot mess with no shoes….aside from I must be like Jesus or something but not a dude….So maybe more like Ishtar or some chick who was all godlike (or maybe she just had really thick skin and no pain receptors)….all I can say is good luck when the bottoms of those shoes burn up. Unless you’re Icarus.–Icarus can just fly right over that shit. Happy travels, you silly bastards!
P.s.,
If you see Kali, please tell her I’m very thirsty. I hear she has an endless supply of demon blood in her veins. She owes me. Tell her that.
Thanks,
Emily Alice

Unrequited CRAP

Forever distant from Heaven,
Heart in stitches,
Plagued with something…
Some vile plague….
The madness sparks fire
In my soul that rages
And burns
and all the rain
That falls from my eyes
Would never suffice
To drown the flames.
My dreams serve
Only to taunt me
And bring back all
That I attempt to bury.
Heavier than I thought,
too heavy to carry.

Bearded Voices

Rasping
Like poor reception
Over-lapping in repetition
Through Cilia Meadows
Fertilized in mucosa.
Syllables ricochet,
and grasp for some relief,
Some freedom
of reverberation
and some care caught
within a sticky trap
Like a roach motel.
Lost syllables
Speak despair
At their task, mission failed,
Abhored,
Bearded voices, and bitter,
Bitter verbal abortions.

My dad thought up this random interesting combination of words:

    bearded voices
    He sent them to me wondering if I could write a poem from those two words. And I did.

Necromanced

A jolt of electricity
Brought me to life
Or maybe I am still dead
But risen and too awake
For the forever-sleep.
Decomposing I was,
But walking as if whole again.
Ailments of souls
Can be compromised and healed
And they will question and meet fate,
To look it in the eyes,
Defying it in the way the dead can
when they stand and walk about.
My frown was turned down,
Backward and somehow
Whole and pure,
but also tainted.
Never have I felt so well
And I will never again
dwell with those worms
Who are so hungry.

Canine Menace: Dog Overlords, a warning to my father

My dearest and onliest father,
I hope this letter finds you quite well and also I hope it finds that you have gotten rid of your dog’s and brought home cats to replace them. Before it’s too late…
On the eve of Christmas, I found a disembodied deer antler the dogs had been gnawing on. Presumably they were sharpening their teeth in preparation for eating us humans as their Yuletide Feast. Any critter cute and sweet as them rascally doggies of ours must be harboring some dark secret– Ulterior motives which shall not ever be known if they eat us and convert us into fetid bacteria-laden land mines.

These dog creatures who speak a strange language and perform strange rituals which look cute and are often hilarious, but in reality they are surely enacting these rituals such as “tail-chasing” and “waving” and “rolling around” and the infamous “dragging their butts across carpets” (we assume their rumps are just itchy but the reality is that they’re sexual deviants, perverted beyond anything a mere mortal can imagine. Not even people like Traci Lords or Jeffrey Dahmer could comprehend such twisted things as what these beasts are up to)!

It is all in the works of some arcane magick and the appeasing of some sinister force of such great malevolence that it shall spell the inevitable doom of the human species! The least fortunate are being enslaved already, but it will get much worse as time progresses. The most fortunate will be eaten alive by vicious gangs of canines and then given as an offering from the oppsosite end of these terrible creatures to the ancient Canine Overlords from the heretofore unknown 16th circle of HELL!

I know what you’re thinking, my dear father. You’re thinking your poor daughter has finally gone hopelessly mad and is in the throes of being consumed by ridiculous nonsensical delusions! Mayhaps, by now, you’re already dialing the white coats to come for me with large syringes filled with the maximum dosage of Thoridazine in addition to some secondary tranquilizer reserved for raging rhinoceroses who have begun attacking their handlers at zoos! Or maybe whatever they use on those lions who are forced to take photos with tourists in that one country. I forget the name of the country but it is populated by people who are often seen slowly pulling guinea worms from their feet very nonchalantly. They have the patience that even saints are not capable of. That country. Google God may know it’s proper name. Ask Google.

But I tell you now, father, that I am not delusional. I haven’t even dropped acid in approximately 20 hours. I ran out of mescaline 2 weeks ago. I lost my last vial of adrenachrome during a high speed chase I led the entire local police force on after I borrowed one of their cruisers because I needed transportation to the nearest powwow in which Peyote tribe was participating in. I threw the vial out the window because it was the only possible projectile I had and I had hoped it might momentarily stun them when something hit windshield with just enough force to crack it. With some really cool but dangerous maneuvers I was able to evade them and torch the cruiser and escape on the back of my spirit leopard. Spirit leopards are much faster than normal leopards. So fast, in fact, the g-force nearly ripped my face right off.

And now, I am sending you this warning. You and grandma and my dear uncles have a been magickally enslaved by your beloved “furbabies”! Your only hope of freedom is to train your cats for battle! You need battle cats! Only the Sacred Army of the Felines can save you! And all of humanity! And I know it is all true! Because I just now made it all up! Beware! Abandon all hope, ye who adore doggies!

Make me proud! Next time I see you, I expect you each to have a hoard of battle cats who could take out even an army as great as the Spartans supposedly were! You will find, also, that battle cats were exactly just what you needed when that rotten land-wrecking, earthquake-triggering pack of jackals known as the “gas company” came out and knocked all those trees down and refused to pay for damages! They ruined the creek! And they didn’t find the gas! What good are they?! They’re good enough to feed a pack of hungry battle cats. It’s true you can Google this, father.

Love Always,
Emily Alice

Of all the words I have written

Of all the words I have written
The most beautiful and best were written for you. And I never shared even half of what I have written to you because I feared they’d have meant nothing to you, and they’ll never see the light of the sun but will eventually, I hope, fade from my own memory. And I miss you every day, but I know it is best to stay away. Because I am damaged. I need more reassurance than you would offer, more than its fair to ask for. I hide my feelings out of fear from a life time of conditioning to such. I hate myself for loving you. And I wish I could forget you. I wish I weren’t some silly hopelessly in love fool. And most of all I wished you’d have loved me, too. As intensely as I have loved you.

Love said, “no.”

The silence is thick
Like the stale air of the embalming room,
The mutual fate of both you and I
When the Universe grows bored of us
All I asked was for you to see me
But you looked upon me

As if I were a blank canvas
And painted upon me portraits

of the ghosts of loves past,

projected upon me any sin you chose
But like a card trick,
Couldn’t you have let me pick a card?
Instead of choosing for me?
You could have let me decide
And your heart would have opened
Wider than the abyss

into which you have fallen

And I feel for you
As you should for me
Because none of us are truly free
Bound by life
Bound by love,

Strife and prejudice,
Bound by the sins ordained

by mythical creatures

who make all the decisions

And judgements for us
So we can’t be bothered to think
But if you could
If you were able
You’d have seen that love

Truly isn’t a fable,
A fairy tale intended to subdue and hurt you into a life you believe

will be worth living
But you let it die

and shame remains in its place
Because you could never see my face
Or trust my words and whispers,
Those words and small offerings
From those of love to fear
Of worship to cynicism
And they speak, now, of an existence
Empty and futile
And my heart rests in fragments
that may never agree to come together
For the memory of suffering etched upon their fibres
Lying as silent as death

awaiting us all.

I don’t hate you
I think I couldn’t,
For you are human

And you suffer, too
And You want to be loved
But have no idea how love works
And you could not see it

if it were standing eye to eye with you
You could not hear it if it were whispering it’s secret sacred syllables into your ear
No amount of time could result in your understanding,
Warped long before I was old enough to hold you
Even as I’m sure I must have dreamt it
A hundred times,
Or maybe my vision was fuzzy
And I dreamt of no one
Certainly no one loved me in my waking hours, either

I, too, know only loss and grief,
Who I could count as close friends of mine,
The difference between the two and you
Is that grief is consistent, and loss is to be expected,
And I always know what to expect of grief,
And loss is nothing more than a thief,
I can expect loss to break my heart

many times over,
Stealing those I love away from me
I never said I was a perfect mate,
Nor was that my purpose for existing
I only ever said I love you

and will love you forever, and I do
But fear and shame and pity have taken more than I could offer
Nothing is left but the milk of regret,
The only stable in my diet,
The only aspect of my own life
Over which I still have control.
Make no mistake,
I’d choose a life of spinsterhood

and cat food over another you
All the love I fed you
Lies in the gutter
And self-doubt is all that remains of me.

What is hidden in silence….
Is what you were deaf to for more than 11 years.
You could have been a God in my heart,
And an entire Universe
in which I could have thrived

I saw you
buried among the dead
And I prayed for the gift of necromancy
And love said, “No”

Before the Song

Perhaps the end is the beginning,
Or maybe hearts do not get their amends.
So they spurt and sputter,
As butterflies flutter and fall
to the ground, dead
Without the faintest sound.
Unseen
yet lying fully exposed.
Dead air and a mist rising
Destroying all those little dew drops
Reflecting softly
the decaying remnants of kisses from there to here…
Everywhere is little reminders,
On the path
leading back to that shame.
The air is so stale
And the world crumbles,
and there’s no oxygen
in which to breathe…
The wounds
of this injured one,
Her silent weeping..
In this soundless void…
Until, ever so softly,
Gentle warm breath
And a voice at her ear:
“Ephemera, kill the silence.
Make it sing.”