break your head open and leave it shattered on the flood – ghost #2011


you gonna hafta drown
build that house high
build that house high on the mountain
build that house on stilts high on the mountain
raise it up far as you can architect
reach for the stars and praise hallelujah
fill that house with helium
keep it up keep it up keep it up

you still gonna shit your soul
down that porcelain bowl
down that bowl into the septic tank
into the septic tank with the crack in it
the crack that drains all your refuse
all your void
all you excrement
into your very own back yard
keep it up keep it up keep it up

you gonna hafta shit yourself
break your head eat your shit for brains
clog the anatomy of a toilet
break your head open on the toilet
flushflushflushflush you are flush
with overflow, the john is flooding
break your head open and leave it
shattered on the flood
keep it up keep it up keep it up

build your house so high no one can see
havarti on wonder bread and falling out teeth
caviar on saltines served with instant coffee
glugglugglug your vodkaprayerwinespritzer
glug the exhaust pipe of your 6 ton 6 door V-10 F150
you’re good to go, John Wayne, breathe deep, General Lee
drive that truck to the roof of your house
and sit so high, sit so high God sits next to you
keep it up keep it up keep it up

you gonna hafta drown
because a flood is coming
you told me all about it in your little black book
cumslut dumbfuck shit your brains into your hands
you’re leaking deep into the mountain and it’s crack
crack cracking underneath you, your stilts will fall
your truck runs empty after you ate all the oil
that mountain gonna fall
that mountain gonna shake
you gonna fall
the flood will rise to meet you
you can’t hide
it’s prophesized
I learned that from you
keep it up keep it up keep it up

Jesus says the meek will inherit the earth
and mountain man

that’s the opposite of you
keep it up

SBGS December

art: “warrior” by shannon elizabeth

Dear Stranger, – ghost #2011

Dear Stranger,

I very much enjoy a complete unknown.
To cast a net into the vast ‘everything is possible’
and come back caterwauling or else enchanted;

I swim in murky waters,
walk deer trails during new moons
when one can’t even see the smallest
fingertip at arm’s length.

You are a moon that needs a telescope,
these letters are lenses we twist
and if I see your glowing surface,
you also see the eye of my blue
peeping at you in wonder.

Who are you?
Has anyone ever asked?
What are your phases?

There’s something to a dark side never seen,
a promise of an edge once stepped over,
the moving of a hand through the surface
of still water, a darkened foot,
a detached hand.

A fish gasping in the air,
pulled from a child’s hands
and fileted by a grandmother.

What’s within is its own unknown.
The wet and dark interior
of its own infinity of stars,
electric with memory,
chance and even hope.

Hope is its own terror,
the eggs of the shark
spilling on the butcher’s block,
a leech between your toes,
a cave-in after you’ve passed
the deepest cavern
and become trapped
with dark water, lightless,
or maybe with a full moon,
a song, a soft bed
and a shoulder to rest your head on.

submit to soboghoso.