Everything

 You were my everything 

Through forest and trees

Beyond questioning

You were my absolute             and

I guess that was too much 

Welcome home

Beneath the boughs of a forest old,
Where whispers linger, damp and cold,
A curious house stands all alone,
With legs of chicken, carved in bone.

Stalking the glades it creaks and groans,

Its timbers warped, roof wind-blown.

A crooked chimney breathes black smoke,

While laughter curls—a witch’s joke.

Its feet scratch patterns in the soil,

A restless beast, immune to toil.

Each stride a riddle, each step a maze,

Through shifting shadows, through time’s haze.

Its door, ajar, invites the brave—

Or foolish souls who seek the grave.

Inside, the walls are strange and thin,

Dreams and nightmares live within.

Shelves of jars with eyes that blink,

A cauldron boils with wretched stink.

Bodies for chairs, a skull-lit dome

Baba Yaga’s eternal home.

Yet for all its fearsome gait,

The house knows hunger, love, and fate.

It seeks no malice, spares no grudge,

But walks the earth as Baba’s judge.

So should you wander near its path,

And feel the forest’s quiet wrath,

Speak wisely, friend, and tread with care

The chicken legs are always there.

Rest in Peace

Buried in the backyard

a place I’ll never see

Yet I still wonder 

if it will be

a flower

or a weed

that grows 

from all my warmth

and all of your coldness

Shadow Beasts

 I feel the pulse beneath my skin,  

The night's alive, the fever setting in,  

Through the darkness, I hear her voice,  

I can't resist, I've got no choice.  

Moonlight ignites the flame inside,  

No place to run, nowhere to hide,  

Feel the rush, the hunger grows,  

I'll lose control, let the wildness show.  

Chorus

I am the shadow, I am the beast,  

Craving the darkness, seeking release,  

Feel my blood racing, feel my breath rise,  

Tonight I come alive,  

Tonight I come alive.  

In your eyes, I see the spark,  

A dance of light in the sea of dark,  

We collide like thunder and rain,  

A savage love, what beautiful pain.  

I taste the night on the tip of your tongue,  

A whispered secret, a breathless run,  

We’ll tear apart this sleepy town,  

The flames burning it all down.  

Chorus

I am the shadow, I am the beast,  

Craving the darkness, seeking release,  

Feel my blood racing, feel my breath rise,  

Tonight you come alive,  

Tonight you come alive.  

Bridge

Underneath the skin, there’s this hunger,  

An ancient truth that pulls us under,  

Through the mist, I feel your heat,  

Two wild things lost on the city street.  

Outro(?)

The moon is our guide, the night is our friend,  

We'll dance till dawn, until the end,  

Feel the heartbeat, feel the need,  

Embrace the wild, become the seed.  

Chorus

I am the shadow, I am the beast,  

Craving the darkness, craving release,  

Feel my blood racing, feel my breath rise,  

Tonight we come alive,  

Tonight we come alive.

I was listening to one of the songs that completely infected my brain several years ago, and caused me to dream and write about several different things that do not exist in this world. I listen to that song today and this is what came out. 🖤 

The Possibilities are Endless

In shadows, something whispers—

a voice I almost know, calling from

a place beyond the edge of thought.

It’s a flicker, a fragile thread

pulling me into the dark,

where love might be waiting

or absolutely nothing at all.

A step forward feels like

a step into the abyss.

What if those bright stars above

are cold and indifferent?

What if their light

leads only to an endless night?

I blindly reach out,

the future is a delicious stranger—

a warm hand that might grasp mine

or slip away like a morning mist.

To love, or to retreat

to safer yet lonely ground—

I’m left to wonder

if it’s courage or madness

that beats in my chest.

The Virtual Losses

I want more than digital ghosts,

than pixels shaped into words, 

encrypted secret zeros and ones, 

fading with the screen's light.

I want more than messages, 

random thoughts sent through wires, 

however sweet and delicious, 

arriving without a soft caress.

I want your laughter in the air, 

not just letters spelling it out, 

your scent in my lungs, 

our bodies close, your voice real.

I want more than words. 

I want you, here, now.

Just Breathe

 As a child I was alone - a lot. Even while sitting in a room of people I was still all by myself. Growing up being screamed at and beaten and told you are all these impossibly horrible things really takes it’s toll on a person. Especially when you were the only person being treated this way. It caused distrust and fear. It left no place to hide from that unwavering spotlight of relentless hate and furious anger. 

As an adult, finally, I see that I’m still that child; that little human that had no power to change the world they struggled to survive in. There was no one to help us escape it. No superhero to save the day, week, or year. This was life and the only way to survive it was to hide and stay small and quiet until the giants fell asleep. 

So here I am, at my wits end, again, and I push everyone out. I close off and distrust the most genuinely kind gestures. I am mentally running through dimly lit steel corridors with no doors and stifled screams sliding down the walls. This mode sneaks in so naturally like a venomous snake in a warm sleeping bag at night. I am alone again. 

I am in the safest hell I can create. 

The lights are out. 

We hold our breath. 

We close our eyes. 

We fill our lungs and we pray for light. 

We fill our lungs and we pray for light. 

I once wrestled a giraffe to the ground with my bare hands.

Though it is well past time that I should be thinking, much less typing or constructing sentences, my brain is awake. One better, my brain is always awake, only this time that dusty dark hallway that has been closed for construction is now open. At least that is what that posted sign has said for the last, goddamn, forever ago now. UNDER CONSTRUCTION. Signed by The Management.

Until today. True, that is me in there shutting down hallways and reconstructing entire wings of my mind. My subconscious does it without permit or permission. Until today I have had no access to that hallway. You know, the one listed as The-Complicated-And-Creative-Thought-Processes-That-You-Have-No-Business-Knowing-About. That mile long title is now barely visible through the glossy black, spray painted word "DANGEROUS". Some of the newer folks might not have even known that this hallway existed. I started asking around after finding too many leaks in the basement. Didn't you assume that there was a place dedicated to this type of thing somewhere? Those leaks never happened when the hallway was open, no need, plenty of places for the juices to go. That was the only clue to my remembering this place at all.

A few years ago the leaks stopped but before that this place was completely submerged in fluids. Sticky too. So anyway, I checked the log book down there and sure enough, leaks stopped a few years back and hadn't returned until lately. I signed it myself when the place used to be Seaworld and signed it again when I found the newest wet spots. Whoever signed it when it dried out is beyond me. The signature is complete bullshit. Nothing but sprawling vine looking stuff, all wiggly and colorful. I can't focus on it for more than a moment without getting a dark thundercloud of a headache. And that is all I know.

Since then, I have walked the hallway for, I don't know, 100 feet or so and I get all creeped out and walk back out a little faster than it took me to get down there. It is not about being scared, but I am definitely not comfortable in there. It is hard to explain. And I haven't slept since the last time I was in there. I remember thinking to myself "this is as far as I have ever been" and then I start seeing the most random things from my childhood in my minds eye, as if I were dreaming. Things that make me happy and sad and some things I don't remember at all, but they are really fucked up.

So This Happened.

This is something I wrote a long time ago. I am cheating like a motherfucker and I feel the hard stares. I don't care this time. I am reposting this today not because I am lazy, but because I am looking for some kindling that might stoke my fire. As a writer I have found (mad/insane)inspiration from reading others work that influenced me and I am greatly inspired to write when my life is at its worst points. As silly as it sounds, I am a firm believer in synchronicity and a common consciousness. So I am throwing it out into the collective winds as it was thrown to me originally, in hopes to have it return to my dreams sooner than later. It is a selfish thing but a positive thing too.

C'est la vie.





Somewhere South of Real


by Joe Keller's organic being


Setting: A sometimes jarring yet mostly comfortable train ride. The cabin is pitch black except for the warm golden lights that blur by the windows at random intervals. There are random images of past lives' visions playing on a small television screen that plays more static than the actual television show. These images are all fond memories connected to no particular person.


CHARACTERS

Little Boy
Mommy
Train Conductor
God
The Devil




LITTLE BOY
Mommy, I think I am sick and might need some medical attention.

The train loudspeaker crackles to life, blaring in perfect 8-bit quality, "Elf needs food badly"

MOMMY
I can't afford to take you anywhere. Get a job and make sure it has some good benefits---

TRAIN CONDUCTOR
(Voice Over through train speaker)
Please hide your cell phone and lock your doors. All sharp objects and cooking devices need to be detached from this ride as this train only makes one stop.

Sounds of breaking glass surround the interior car as large household items are tossed out the train's breaking windows. Knives, cords and cleaning supplies are being swept into the air from an unknown shadowy location and are thrust out into the night sky.

MOMMY
The stop you are making is not at the hospital or local jail. Get your life together young man and stop being such a wimp! I raised you to be better than that.

LITTLE BOY
O.K. I think I am doing better anyways. Besides, I have to go to the bathroom and will forget about being sick as soon as I stop staring at this purple screen in front of me.

TRAIN CONDUCTOR
(Voice Over through train speaker)
Next stop Hell. No reboarding passes will be accepted. Please remove all personal baggage from your compartment.
Viewing out the window of the speeding train, little boy looks up and sees Hell; demons are all red-skinned porn stars and the devil is George Lucas. They are all lounging on frothing orange clouds and discussing the war in Iraq over warm martinis. Everyone is beautiful and lavishly, if not scantily, clothed. Someone starts vomiting in the background and the Devil quickly turns off the lights of Hell with a snap of his finger. All is dark again save the few stars in the sky. 


MOMMY
Told you you'd end up there if you kept up your evil and blasphemous ways! Now be a man and face the consequences of your sinful life. I will be looking down from heaven praying for mercy on your charred and ruinous soul. She picks up a leash that is connected to gleaming silver cord pinched in-between the closed train doors.

Little boy looks out from a broken passenger window and sees Heaven below him. It is upside down as if looking into a puddle. God, a chrome-plated robot, blindly fires a large machine gun into the picturesque sky of blue and gold. The angels are Every Underprivileged Person In The World and their undersized dirty t-shirts say so. The angels are each leashed to a single bullet strung through Gods never-ending ammunition supply. When he fires a round, the angel attached violently explodes against an unseen wall somewhere in the distance. Their bloody remains congeal into shiny new bullets after sliding down the invisible wall to heavens ground. Through a speaker hanging askew from Gods mirror-shine mouth you hear broken laughter. The Angels shout praises to God while simultaneously securing their leashes.

LITTLE BOY
I am not even grown yet! I don't even know of a hell. How can I be responsible for my actions when I am just now figuring out what they can cause? I am already damned. Have I no choice in life? If I can do anything I put my mind to, why is my mind limited to only doing so much?

GOD
(Voice Over through train speaker)
Social order buddy, ha ha buzzzzzzzz.


TRAIN CONDUCTOR
The Train Conductor now stands beside open door at the rear of the train car. His speaking voice sounds as if it is still coming from the overhead speaker. Life isn't fair unless you are someone else and someone else you will never be. Now please, tuck and roll.

Little Boy is tossed out into the rushing winds and is carried like a feather into some unknown, invisible path. Lights fade to black while Nine Inch Nails: Head Like A Hole plays its entirety.




Based on SK's reaction to reading this, I felt there was a need to clarify the post. Upon rereading it, I realize I am unable to touch it. It's loosely written in the form of a playscript and it involves a mother and son on a train that travels through the cosmos, to Hell presumably. I was the Personal Home Stenographer on this one so I can't unravel it's mysteries either.

So much for a clarification huh?

Serial Killer

The endorphin rush gets me home with just enough energy to clumsily lock the door behind me and collapse in a heap onto the hard and unforgiving living room floor. The cold tiles are a welcomed contrast to the heat pouring out of my over-worked body. Who is next? I can only wait for an answer. He will eventually crawl out from the darkest corners of my mind, dance on the tip of my tongue and molest my eyelids until I am forced to open them again. Until that time comes I will think of nothing that he is so desperately concerned with. The destruction. The blood. The tears. The laughter. Fuck! I am thinking of the darkest things after all. Or is he? I can never tell these days. He is so good at tricking me into this mindset. This irrevocable pattern. 

I used to like it when I could escape from them all. I would be the one crawling into his darkest hiding places to find that precious, priceless sleep. I didn't want to change the world! Sleep was the hidden treasure I was after and, I suppose, I found it too. That is where we met, him and I. In the world between sleep and those darkest places. I remember the long talks we would have. I thought he was the smartest person I had ever met. Funny too! He was so clever. That was how he eventually made a cozy little home inside my life. We simply spent too much time together. I let him search through the deepest places in my mind, places I had never even traveled to before. 

One Friday night after work I was depressed and thinking of the life I have lived, or not lived, and I wanted to chat with him to clear things in my head. He was the best listener I had ever talked to. It was as if he could read my mind. Every topic of discussion was laid out exactly as I would have wanted it. So I went searching for him. Desperately. I searched for what felt like days. I looked in any place we had hung out. He was no where to be found and the others, well, they were never keen on having conversations with me. I traveled through the that world for days and checked every corner. It was as if he had disappeared completely. I was frustrated and beyond tired. I lost my temper and struck one of the others. They spoke to me then, in fear of what I would do if the silence continued. They explained that he made them promise to never speak to me. He told them that he was leaving their world and I was to take his place. He was the creator and they could only obey his orders. They quietly agreed that I reminded them of him. They told me that I was very similar to the boy they remember in the past. He was young once too. He was a kindhearted person back then they mentioned as they shook their heads in unison. He didn't creep through the shadows talking to himself back in those days. No, he was much like me then. I couldn't take it any longer. The way they would look at me with such hope and admiration. They were only trying to distract me. Just like him! I told them that I would not stay in their world. I had a real life elsewhere that I had to be in. I had a daughter and a family that cared about me. They didn't care about these things. These once quiet and peaceful strangers became enraged and grew to become monstrous and frightening phantoms. They said I could never leave. I would never leave! It was his plan and nothing could stop it. I surprised every one there and myself. Instead of running or fighting them all, I simply slept. 

I slept for so long that he eventually came back to me. He was a changed man. He told me that he was sorry to have tricked me so deftly. He was selfish and naive. He didn't know then what he understood so clearly now; he needed me. He craved the long talks. He was literally dying without me. I felt so relieved to see him. I had slept for so long that my dreams became a reality that was hellishly repetitive. I agreed to his offer wholeheartedly: we simply had to see each other to survive. I would live in my world half the time and then in his world the other half. We would never discuss what happened while we were in each others realms. I was happy again. The others were not happy at all. They tried to plead with me though he would not hear of it. They retreated back to their homes and were silent once again...

This child would one day grow up to fear everything and everyone. Almost. He likes to think in extremes so don't get offended. So not everything and everyone but at least a lot of stuff. It's a problem no one could have foreseen. They assumed the best. How could they have not?