Chaos on earth,
chaos among man,
when the devil emerged,
and hatched an evil plan.

Beelzebub came from the ground and,
Beelzebub raided the towns and,
Beelzebub destroyed all around him,
and Beelzebub killed all the townsmen.

He marched across the land,
destroying all the cities,
killing all of man,
with no remorse, no pity.

Beelzebub came from the ground and,
Beelzebub raided the towns and,
Beelzebub destroyed all around him,
and Beelzebub killed all the townsmen.

Hell is on earth,
hell is in the sky.
Everyone who lives,
eventually will die.

Beelzebub came from the ground and,
Beelzebub raided the towns and,
Beelzebub destroyed all around him,
and Beelzebub killed all the townsmen.

She lived deep in the forest,
in a tiny little cottage,
she sold little hearbal remedies,
****** mary,
****** mary.

For she was kinda weird,
for she was called a witch,
none dared to go to her house,
****** mary,
****** mary.

She was accused for drying cows,
and for rotting stored food,
when children cought a cold,
****** mary,
****** mary.

Little girls in a village,
began to disappear,
one by one they all went,
****** mary,
****** mary.

No one found,
wheere the children went,
they simply just vanished,
****** mary,
****** mary.

A few brave souls,
went to the cottage,
to see what they could find,
****** mary,
****** mary.

Denied she told,
to those brave souls,
she now looked attractive,
****** mary,
****** mary.

Then came a night,
where a little girl,
walked away at night,
****** mary,
****** mary.

Her mother screamed,
her father worried,
but she kept on walking,
****** mary,
****** mary.

The townsmen saw,
a glowing light,
coming from the woods,
****** mary,
****** mary.

Then they say,
behind a tree,
standing the unseen,
****** mary,
****** mary.

It was mary,
being scary,
pointing at the girls house,
****** mary,
****** mary.

They shot,
and stabbed,
upon mary,
****** mary,
****** mary.

Mr miller shot her,
whith a silver bullet,
in the hip,
****** mary,
****** mary.

the townsfolk grabed her,
and burned her,
at the stake,
****** mary,
****** mary.

But as she died,
she scramed a curse,
at those who say her name,
****** mary,
****** mary.

She said if you,
say her name three times,
infront of a mirror,
****** mary,
****** mary.

You will die,
if you say those,
****** mary,
****** mary,
****** mary.

Carrying a somewhat cliche heartbreak on her shoulders, she climbed the hill. She figured that all the men in the town would be able to see her up there, so high. Climbing, she contemplated her past relationship and how it had ended. She then tossed it off the hill on her way up, ready to receive a new presence from a new man. Knowing she deserved better, and knowing she would receive better, she had high hopes, but still, a gray aura surrounding her.

She knew that when the sun would set each night, it would glaze her silhouette with vibrant colors of passion and light, reeling in her new mate.The excitement aroused her. Waiting on that sun to go down each night, marking the end of each miserable say of waiting, she sat at the top of the hill.
The first few weeks were hard to watch. She planted a garden and sang and danced around its crops, from day to day. When she became tired, she would stop and sit and close her eyes. Sometimes she would open them, very wide at first, as if expecting a change of scenery. Her eyes would then droop in the realization that nothing had yet changed, but her tomatoes ripening.

I think it was about two months when the flowers in her garden began turning brown and dry. Her sister had stopped carrying water up to the hill for her, from the well. Whether she had asked her to stop, or whether she stopped on her own account, is a mystery to me. But she did stop. This water, was of course, for the girl, not the plants. There was plenty of rain, it being springtime and all. It was the lack of water that the girl was receiving that finally caused her to cease gardening.

Not only did her flowers grow brown, but her smile grew blue. It was that of a forced expression. It looked as if she was trying to convince herself of happiness, when in fact things had taken a volatile turn, downward.

After a long period of thinking herself silly, she began to sleep more often. Her mind was asleep when her eyes were closed; she found this  much easier. When her mind was turned on, she only thought about her past dreams sinking away. Hopelessly, she continued to sit on the hill, now in silence.

~

One early day, she woke to the sun blinding her. A small bird dropped out of the sky and landed on her shoulder. The bird sang songs into her ears and circled her for hours. The bird was doing for her, what she could not. During this time, she began to think deeply.

She thought of all the things that had happened to her. She thoughts of love, and lust, and hate, and life. She thought about the bird that had the strength to sing when she did not. She was ready to sing now. She was ready to dance again. She thought about how selfish she had been to her garden when she had stopped caring for it, because she could not even care for herself. She thought about all the time she felt she had wasted on this Hell of a hill. None of the townsmen had ventured forth; none had even called up to her for her to come down. They must have thought she was crazy!

Only three more days passed, before I looked through my telescope in awe. She had begun to walk down the hill, slowly, but surely. I thought, this must be a trick. Maybe she dropped a shoe. But both shoes were on, and the rest of her clothing, for that matter. She had a determined look on her face, as if she had transcended over night. It was beautiful, really.

As soon as she met the precipice of the hill and the meadow, she ran. She ran toward the trees, where the stream flows so elegantly. She dove in, headfirst, and played like a child, almost. She then got out and lay in the sun, on some grass nearby. She thought herself lame and unjust to spend so much time looking for another man, when she had had herself all along. She was happy alone; I could see it.

After a couple of hours, she got back up and walked over to the water. She crouched down in the kneeling position and then furthered her body toward the water, gazing in, as if hypnotized. She looked down at her own reflection and then screamed with joy. She jumped around and danced and sang. She was so ecstatic, I couldn't help but smile to myself with the utmost joy. She had found herself again. The one thing she hadn't been looking for, had come. And now that her soul had returned to her body, I could return to my life. In that moment, I knew that she was ready for me to go and meet her.

this is the dwelling where wind is a bell and a beacon for death.
where youthful pursuit is punctured by family names or famine of fortune.
boys in bands buoyed by Onos and shared women.
lawyer fathers and social ***** mothers whose children are forbidden to **** up.
one street reserved and smothered by talking townsmen
whose belligerent brides keep tabs on their fellow middle-aged malicious
minded low-lifes
engorged in gossip are the parading fat men who rise early to feed off ones business capital tragedies
****** shortcomings of the stuck and single prey off tweens tweeting of body glitter and b-cups.
clique chick coquettes play house with their shiny image seeking male counterparts
who sing songs of their leather faced lady friends with plastic claws they now admit they would never marry
antagonizing cute couples secretly copulating with former loves' lust
only to mingle with conspirators molding to dominant thought
once a waitress always a waitress
with overdrawn bragging rights and unemployment checks
serving snobs like themselves who sip savignon
self-righteous polo popping perverts accompanying their prized play things
who join the charles river emigrants and stale french pastries
scouting the waste colored palace of prejudice.
now blades of winter draw months of blue blood
bringing forth frozen thoughts slowly dripping onto thawing skin.
another warm summer sun  forthcoming
foreshadowed by this wind-chafing forlornness.
though i will fall in love again
and bridge rats will always be kings.

Underneath crumbling castles lays a kingdom of broken glass and broken souls. A kingdom declaring war with an empire disguised as a village. The kingdoms loss has grown since their initial declaration, after the loss of 3000 townsmen, women and children. At war across the blue and the white there is no shortage of red. No shortage of shed tears. No shortage of lost limbs and lost families not knowing what to do because the plague has taken their husbands and wives and ****** them into a war that was only supposed to last a month. 12 years later, the plague has spread and our patience spread thin and we have an urge to be the worlds kings and sentence those who don't agree with the crown to death. The kings changing over the years and the throne passed along. But we won't forget those princes and princesses who never got saved from the towers.

She has maintained a steadfast and prudent distance
From places she would have to fabricate answers to tiresome inquiries:
The ageless Rexall pharmacy, the gas pumps at the Kwik-Fill,
The scruffy, three-checkout Market Basket,
(Though that entails driving to Bradford or Dubois for groceries,
Inconvenient at the best of times,
Outright hazardous when February shows its teeth)
But her resolve can be a fleeting thing,
So oftentimes she will yield
To the siren song of the produce aisle,
Where she will, with what forbearance she can bear,
Submit to the interrogative small talk
Lobbed her way like so many verbal mortar shells
By squinting, smirking long-time acquaintances,
All variations upon the inquiry Why’d you come back?

All homecomings are secondary to some departure,
Mostly the mad flight of one marooned by birth,
Deciding, through some alchemy of grit and desperation,
That they cannot face a life of a spot on the line at the mill,
A haphazard and half-hearted marriage with the requisite offspring,
To be finished up with an unremarkable stone on Bootjack Hill.
Her farewell was not such a notion, not in the least;
She was beautiful, not small-town pretty
In the lead-in-the-senior-musical sense,
But breathtakingly so, the kind of radiance
Which held up to the forty-foot screen of the drive-in in St. Mary’s.
There was no question that she would go, must go,
As if the notion of her staying was absurd, even obscene;
So she went, to New York for a brief spell
(She found it gray and cold in every sense of the word)
Then later to Southern California,
Which she found, if nothing else, somewhat more comfortable.
She did not fail (to be fair, her beauty was of a type
Which transcended mundane concerns such as locality)
Securing bit parts on screen here, the odd photo shoot there,
Not well-off, perhaps, but living well enough,
Free from the endless cast-iron skies and ***** slush of January,
The pointless yet sacrosanct internecine struggles
Which rolled unheedingly across the generations,
The stifling intramurality of the tiny lives in tiny mill towns.

And yet she came back, with neither warning nor fanfare,
Greeted by a cacophony of mute and uncomprehending stares,
As if she were some spectre, lovely and yet unwelcome,
Dredging up emotions best forgotten,
Half-truths not bearing the weight of re-examination,
Any number of errors of commission and omission best left buried.
She will, on occasion, make her way to a barstool at the Kinzua House
Where she receives drinks and further ministrations
From out-of-town hunters or younger townsmen
For whom she is not an icon or grail,
And if she is asked what brought her back to the cold cow country
She would say, a bit acerbically but melancholy as well,
At some point, you get tired of being a commodity,
Just something to weighed and assayed,
Your face worth this, your *** worth that,
But, if she was deep enough into the evening’s proceedings,
She would murmur snippets of odd things:
How the falls would pour like the cheers of thousands
Over the spillways of the dormant mills,
The spectacle of the sand swallows returning
(Brown, chunky, unremarkable things
Skimming the disintegrating chain-link
Which surrounded the abandoned middle school)
To the abandoned gravel pit just below the cemetery,
The herds of elk, reintroduced by the state conservation boys
In a futile and wholly romantic gesture,
Which have not only survived
But prospered on the hillsides out of town,
And if those who knew her when overheard her,
They would whisper among themselves
As to how she was clearly on the run from something,
And how everyone knows that the unrelenting SoCal sunshine
Can lead someone from a place like this to madness.

THE BIG CRASH AT PARK VILLE

BETWEEN A BEER TRUCK AND A TRAM YEAH AND

SLIM DUSTY’S GHOST CALLS OUT


I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH DUNCAN

I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH KEVIN

I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH PATRICK

I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH TONY

NO THE TRUCK IS IN A CRASH

THE BEER KEGS ALL FELL OVER EVERYWHERE

LEAVES US WAITING TO HAVE BEER WITH OUR MATES

HOW CAN WE DRINK IN MODERATION

THE BEER KEGS ARE SCATTERED ALL OVER THE GROUND

WE CAN’T HAVE BERR WITH OUR MATES

CAUSE THE TRUCK HASN’T COME UP YET


I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH RODNEY

I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH DAN

CAUSE I MIGHT HAVE MENTIONED THE PARKVILLE CRASH

OH MY GOD, IT SPOILS THE PLAN FOR THE TOWNSMEN

YOU SEE HOW CAN WE DRINK IN MODERATION

WHERE THE BEER IS LOW, OH YEAH

IU CAN’T HAVE A BEER IN PARKSVILLE

CAUSE WE CRASHED INTO A TRAM

I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH WILLIAM

I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH BILL

WE DRINK IT UNDER THE TABLE

BUT THIS CRASH BRINGS A SHORTAGE YEAH

COME ON RESCUERS, PLEASE, SAVE OUR ****** BEER

I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH DUNCAN

CAUSE, HE DESERVES IT, OH YEAH

THEN SLIM DUSTY FLIES AWAY, DON’T FORGET ME PARKSVILLE

I  MET YOU AT THE STATION

WITH ALL THE BEER HERE RATHER THAN THE PUB MY KIND SIR

WE CAN’T HAVE OUR CELEBRATION

WE DRINK THE BEER ANYWAY, IT’S HOT BUT WHO CARES, IT’S BREW

YEAH LET’S GET ****** OLD KODGERS, AND YOUND DUDES

YEAH, GET BLIND OH YEAH

I begged the marijuana to get me as high as heroine
Puffy pink clouds surround my head again
Peeling like paint your face fades from the walls of my brain
Down a rusted melting ladder and passed a white rabbit
who rushes like your heart in the midst of a panic

puff, puff, pass it

Reaching into my chest and opening
up my rib cage like a gate,
I fed the thick smoke to my lungs like iced lemonade
Snaking in and out of each broken rib
The townsmen drank the resin and black blood
before it dried up

sip sip, cough cough

Ghost, they’ll call you once you’ve drowned
under your own saliva screaming for help
No existence was the interest in a dress of rescue
Index flipping south with eyes forward north
scoffing down the brick road they built bare handed
within the same amount of time the mother
held her belly frantic

Flatten, fold, tuck the edge of the napkin
Place it on your lap and look presentable, please
The children won’t know if you don’t tell them
(about the alcohol problem)

shhh

Risky lips find their spot lights
with silly scouring mouths and proud egos
I’m chilly
But he won’t feed into her, since recently
discovering bruises blue as berries behind her knees
Cherry smooch on each
Get better soon, Honey, please

Honey, please
Honey, please

Her juicy heart’s held up with garden stalks
Ripe love threatening to fall off
Ripe love telling me to *******

A cutless mage
So weary of speech
The magicians basket
A tale to teach

For wanding and waving
The dreams of the dreary
The illusion of joy
A load he must carry

What spells, what tricks
Does his basket contain
A book of the difference
Between revere and disdain

For his shoes have been worn
And robe has no sleeves
The midnight mage
Lost his glow in the weave

Suspended in wind
The magician has forgotten
The blooming of Daisy's
Now litter his coffin

The townsmen share tales
As they laugh and they weep
Of the mage in the mask
Who never thought to speak

there was once a myth
that was told to me
about a little town
that bordered south seas

a town of right minds
with enterprise and gold
where thoughts of innovation
and imagination had been sold

this town was  small
quite quaint indeed
where unique animals were born
and new creatures were to breed

in the town there was a tinker man
who some had become afraid
had gone quite mad
as he did sound insane

he hid in his shop
and let not a citizen around
until his annual sale
in which there were no sounds

some felt bad for the man
who was born to tinker
so many would hover
stare and linger

“i created terrific creates!”
said the tinker once more
until one day he ran
from his little tinker store

the lady marilee came
to observe this strange being
as though she was not phased
by any animal she’d been seeing

by then it was gone
this creature disappeared
along with all others
when new townsmen appeared

“it disappeared so quick," the tinker cried,
i couldn’t take a look,”
it croaked and crawled
and it shivered and it shook!”

the lady Marielle
hindered at his story
and retained her shock
as she glowed with full glory

“your eyes mr. tinker !”
theyre as white as a ghost
surely the creature made you ill
maybe tetnus at the most!

but it did not bite
nor did it sneer
and marbile ran
to the tinker man near

"did you find the creature"
she asked so soft
but as soon as he turned
he was taken aloft

"why marible look
your eyes are as mine
but i do not feel sick
i feel finer than fine!"

all the townspeople were frightened
as they walked into town
and threatened to banish
in an uproar sound

soon they were driven out
with their pearly white eyes
and all creatures stopped breeding
every shape every size

since then the creatures of this town
have been gone along with some
who encountered the tinker man’s
unique little one

where did they go
or where did they fall
nobody knew
except those who had saw

legend says
that those with white eyes
had possessed a soul
so much greater in size

watch out for the pearly eyes
for they will turn back
these creatures are evil
and have created a tact

they collect all the souls
and **** out their lies
while giving them all
but shiny white eyes

all those who banished
these innocent victims
were stricken with bitterness
unfortunate delirium

now there is a law
given by the state
that no man can enter
or they must face their fate

i never believed
until i walked to the border
and there stood a line
of warning signs and a police order

memories of the people
are still told in all ways
and those of their ancestors
never enter the town today

there was once a myth
that was told to me
about a little town
that bordered south seas

Aching chambers
Sullen froths
The raven angers
As hope is lost
Consumed oh hallowed mind
As the feeble and broken, cried

Beneath empty boardwalks
Townsmen bleeded across
Still I find myself in gawk
As the dawn of man drew close
Reality found me encased
In an existence duly erased

"Im the only one here right?"
Says a feminine voice
It was of a lost lover
To whom I never knew.

In a plane of consciousness
Submerged in repose
I sat there, cornered, enthralled
A living dream I am in
A dream I never arose.

The persistent air pushes upon the pebbled shore while the sun warms every breath
How manly of me to ponder of every man’s proper dream even when there is no man left
He silently thinks to himself as the tiny stones stick to his feet upon every stealthy step
I will travel to bear witness to this mistress from the bare islet.

Lady luck will guide me to the lovely lady if love is luckily true
If the spirit of the island is in the land she will lead me to something new
An experience so inexperienced even the experienced never knew
What terrible terror for the townsmen who never truly took to

A relationship

Yes, that’s what he forever never-forgetting wished for
A beautiful girl in her beautiful world to walk with him on the shore
A soul to simply grow old with and solemnly swear to love to the single core
A hope filled heart hopefully was all he needed for the other half to adore

The man curiously gazed up and saw he had completed the end of the coast
He had been walking all day wondering about a woman that he barely knows
To him she seems like she is standing in his way but to her he seems a ghost
He looked out at the riptide, smiled, for he maintains the memories he had engrossed

Night’s armaments
tethered by a lone street light
wait as a patient carnivore
watchful and certain

A cigarette glows
in one man’s mouth
as others blow fog, puff into their hands
and shuffle - shipping out tonight

Arguing up the hill
a truck in the middle distance
comes to take them to the rally point

Whistling in this town
will be left to young fresh faced boys
when they think on their fathers,
the soldiers

Tenements in formation stare unblinking
each window an eye transfixed
******* bins, curbside, seem to anticipate
instruction or disturbance

A gathering mist pads the rooftops
as the townsmen heave aboard,
with one last glance - slightly checked
each man searches for the loved ones
who are
        silent,
        asleep
        or at prayer

A while to get the eye back in
reconstitute the faculty
for feeling without
touch

-the repetitious ritual
makes for cover on the open road-

A villainy of tree-lined habits
camouflage, dissimulate,
reject the townsmen fidget

and all must age inside the barrel,
thicken in its oaken recess

slivered for the minutes
of its instinct

My ears and my mind focus on the cicadas
Their cries erupt from their bellies in chorus
The sound of rubber sweeping the asphalt, townsmen racing across the bridge to escape the water.
The sunset was beautiful
hues of pink, orange and warm peach stretching across the horizon -
I watched the sky live minute after minute in the water's reflection, and I wanted to fly in that world
To be at peace in the depth until the glow of heaven's light reveals me in the reflection,
To jump in and leave the docks above me.

Depression is a beast,
Of utter madness,
A being filled with stress,
And overwhelming sadness.

Inflicting its own pain,
On unsuspecting townsmen,
Never taking a break,
Striking again and again.

A mighty sword won't cut it down,
Neither will an arrow,
A dove isn't able to show it love,
And it can't learn freedom from a sparrow.

This treacherous monster,
How grand, how tall, 
Has no way of being taken down,
No way it will somehow fall.

This monster is strong and you are weak,
Or that's what it wants you to think,
But with time and spirit alone,
You can fight it with a blink.

It will cease, and it will fall,
It will leave you to not defend,
It will find another victim,
And you have made the monster your friend.

At this present date, here and now
Setting the predicate for the future and the past
Steeples, beyond silhouette, said the townsmen, that trampled
The stairs lit up with freedom, and poetry of the old times
The positivity lit at the end of the flame tells positivity is superlative
The panorama was on fire, the apparitions of faces lifeless by their beauty
Domineering in their face, and the color of the water was bluer than boughs of the mountains
I guess some men are giants, and some are succeeding to stay tall
And keep their heads help up high, maybe, praying as they leave for paradise
Loveless and ingrates find their place in heaven
Some are lost and faithless finding their place in paradise or somewhere in that vivid concept
Keeping the literature relevant, has become one of the reasons why we understand the depth of joy
Stories should be efficiently, and they could see a hint of fur
Heard in the faces of silent persons, they could see it mindful of the suspense
What's to say and what's coming
The common saying, we could perhaps smile, or look for better
Possibly, I am migrated from the lies behind
My shelled spectacles wearing the running on the wires, on my arms
Determination in these, grams of wrath winding in surreptitious
Some people think will can worthless incoherently they can claim their futures for their own and hopeless misery
Among the citizens and gun-holes, the action-seekers snickering
I want to be part of a smaller death in society, terrorizing my neighborhood
Silently, breaking the breadths of fences and pens, into the ****** sheets of spying intelligent and honest men
I hoped to leave this island
I would get engrossed in the similarities
Snow sets upon
Lamenting our souls
In the fire, or huddled up in the avalanche again