Ghostchild watches
And on his face is a smile
A humour not all good
And a smirk indistinct
He listens to his beast
To snorts and snuffles and
The clicking of something hard
And something like warmth
Or maybe death
Sighs and moves between his feet

elouise stood at the roadside
and waited
when she was four
she had seen the sky fall
the shattering of the heavens
upon the fragile earth
screaming and the dying
the stink of humans burnt
when she was nine
in a remote and distant field
she found an angel cowering
battered and all broken
wings of bloodied stumps
just mewling and just shitting
eyes seeking upwards
and on her fourteenth birthday
at the village fete
the child of her fair sister
lay crushed beneath a cart
in her nineteenth year
her lover died in her arms
at the age of twentyfour
in the winter sun
the earth shook and crumbled
and the dead walked
til evening dawn
at twentynine
when the goats where herded in
one was heard to speak
and amidst the burning
and the prayers that swiftly
followed
turned and called her name
as she turned thirtyfour
a demon struck a deal
for the soul of her dead mother
and daddy lived forever
on the count of thirtynine
the sun darkened for three days
and three nights
and ghosts crawled the land
on the dusk of fortyfour
she simply stood
and simply waited
until the world
ended

ghostchild brought memory
and bitter rage
bequeathed us hatred
and taught us age

monkey crafted mercy
and melancholy
wrapped us in dreams
and the meaning of folly

ghostchild sang terror
whispered sadness
taught us weariness
and bound with blindness

monkey constructed hope
carved in caution
dug up happiness
and played compassion

ghostchild knotted greed
and bandied fears
and doubting voices
that played with tears

monkey battled
and fought all fronts
ghostchild simply sat
and won

Bad man
In a sad place
All alone
Holding the hand
Of the slaughtered ones
The breath
Of their last breathing
Trickling like wayward smoke
Through the dampness of
His fingers
And the bad man
Just sits
And sighs
And wonders that
The dimness does not fade
The raging does not quiet
The burning in his head
Is a monologue
A ranting of something darker
Than the blood upon his face
And he cannot understand
Why his tears are so grimy
His lips ravaged by black muck
His lungs dance so madly
And in his darkness
Beneath a cage of flesh
And unreal bone
Hurt is blossoming
In a garden of swaying aches
And he cannot ask
He cannot see
Or hear or smell
Or simply just divine
A single reason why

monkey
golden monkey
golden monkey smiling
mad golden monkey smiling
mad golden monkey smiling inanely
dangerously mad golden monkey smiling inanely
monkey
chewing the gristle
that once connected
your lovely jaw
to your lovely head

he is the memory of something near
something stalking
standing silently at your shoulder
watching you stir and slumber
tasting the breath of you
the giddiness of your fear
the fleeting touch
against your back
the darkness that sees from shadows
where you half hear your name
feels your heart sounding
when all else is quiet
 
***
 
has he ever touched the ground
felt the life beneath his feet?
Or was he born upon that beast
A foul mewling mess
Slick with the blood that birthed him
That baths him still?