Friday 23 January 2015

burn the house down

let's take the boat out
wait until darkness comes

.

i often think 
about what my last day on earth will be like

we recoil into relapse
when life doesn't go our way
and we do things that we regret 
later on - what was said
done in reaction
shortening
our lives

lost - gone








it's not that we don't know what to do
it's more like we ignore all the signs and signals
that could lead us back to safety
(ok, a guy thang, mostly) 

tripping in our tragic trajectory

finding our healing process
(what separates the boys from 'real' men)
is all about honing our hearing, listening skills
paying attention to our close surroundings
god no - not that

nope, actually, wanting to turn the heat up
burn in the wreckage
go deaf/blind - wanting to die
like our parents did
emotionally

prematurely

i mean - ok
i really loved her - and she fucked me over
leaving me - and i hate her for it

that's why i need to



burn the house down
 







 
nope - this isn't about what's right or wrong
it's more about that rush in retribution
not knowing why
just lashing
out

because it feels good
marred marriages in trickster therapy, corrupt countries
 counting countless casualties

it's all about watching the house burn down
empty gas can in hand - our fire festering - in sheer wonder
sweating, shivering and smelling bad - having pissed our pants
and yet, feeling fun - in the gory glory - in the destruction
feeling good about it regardless

in the moment 

.


we are conditioned to believe certain things
Mom and Dad, family - all that bullshit
coming back to haunt us
krazy karma

rejection registration on that level has relentless ramifications
restoring prickly retaliations

like purple pins on a flimsy fading paper wall map
hanging by a thread in cushioned cork

all the places where and when life was sweet then went sour
looking back, wondering

why and how








 later in life - looking through the rear view
just before the crash

on a liquid lunch lakeside look-out
lamenting, bottle in a brown bag
what's done is done


.
  

nowhere in these cold corridors of pale green and grey
nowhere in the suburbs
in the cold light of day


.
 

eventually realizing that our losses fundamentally come down
to the mistakes we made - the regrets
lingering in our lofty latitude
languishing in our lazy longitude

146 channels of shit
on this cable TV 
IKEA chair

going CRAZY




pulling out the papers from the drawers that slide smooth
tugging at the darkness, word upon word

confessing all the secret things in the warm velvet box
to the priest - he's the doctor


he can handle the shocks












halloween - used to be fun
until it got really scary 

"Mommy - what's WRONG?"

why are you lying on the kitchen floor crying?
i'm scared too

shaking - shivering 
I'm scared shitless - quiet - dark shadows - rain-soaked
she's saying something - whispering


let's take the boat out
wait until darkness comes


.



Mom took my little brother and me to church
Woodstock Ontario - spring 1966 - just a few times
without Dad (who would never go) - seeking spiritual guidance
in the only place she knew - surreal

lost and alone

dressing us up in our little suits, hair combed
with vaseline - because that's what Dad used - same hair-cut
Mom in a proper dress and hat, heels (of course)
hurting her feet but they looked good
and it's what everyone wants to see
at church - no less - learning - ok
making an impression

what's 'appropriate'
shuchhhch up

ok, just don't ask so many
questions 

remembering to buy a quart of milk on the way home
which cost a quarter then.  hot-dogs were 5 cents
at the new Springbank Plaza - Dominion store
all the trimmings in place

dinner is served
mustard spill on my dress pants
walking home

ah Woodstock in 1966 - nothing compares

before cell phones/ATMs/credit cards - before video-tape
before drive-thru, before Star Wars

ok we had cars, TV and radio - yes telephones too

you need to see a doctor - right

.


looking down on empty streets, all she can see
are the dreams all made solid


are the dreams made real

 











persistently pressing all the right buttons
getting nowhere - because even the church
was essentially out of the loop
pretending they were the answer
pretending they 'cared'

genuinely 'concerned'
give me a break

"believe in God and everything will fall into place"
what a crock pot - filled with famine forgotten

small Ontario town 1966 - women just don't leave their husbands - not an option

and if they DO> there's something wrong with them
- end of story - 

emotional abuse - what's that? 

the church (fundamentally) doesn't care
nor did any of the male lawyers, all of whom had Mom figured out - yeah - right

the church?  ok ...
what faith I had - disappeared that year

consoling words that concealed the corruption
in a system abundant in rhetoric
and empty of empathy

floundering in a sworn script
from a hidden hole that no-one
can see into - unless you look
and most don't want to
why?  I'm still
asking

that simple (burning) question










going back and replaying my crusty cassettes
over and over again - the soft, sticky sermons
the cold organic music - the predictable offering plate
passed around with an obligation more than a blessing

the white collared man peering out
from his elastic elevation - watching us
wondering what his weekly winnings
will awaken

earning his living - by taking advantage
of others misgivings - perplexed and yet

dreaming of something bigger myself
 just a kid - listening
looking up

billions of stars in the night-sky
big black holes - new universes
warp speed

there's depth ... dimension 
imagination

none of that matters now 
 because


mom hurts

.


no pain - no gain right?

at least that was what
Dad always said

.


it was like - Daddy always had the right answer
neatly tucked in his back pocket, revolver ready - just in case
strictly confidential - caressing cremation

regrets ? - fuck that

ok, i have none 
because she deserved my rage wrath
my unwillingness to comply

to her bitch-ass agenda
faaaaaaaak









like ok, us - hanging with her friends
is like, more important than me
hanging out with mine


??
 

getting lit and venting
with my bros

our Thursday night meetings
(Monday Tuesday Wednesday Saturday)
are ok - NOT negotiable

essential - elemental

my time is important to ME
and sometimes - you can't
be there

ya ya - it's about you being there for me when I need you
but I don't need to be there when you need me
comprehende?


I mean - like OK, wake the fuck up

yep, you deserve this, because
my agenda means
something too

fading fragrances - distant echos 
just words

drifting in the calm
(harassed and hammered again)

looking up and out - at the approaching storm
bring it - on










another saucy slip sip
defaulting to deformity
another shitty hand of cards
the insipid instagram burning up
 upon re-entry

invading my sacred space
with your needy shit
always needing to talk
about what?

i mean - WTF

ok, i wasn't there
when you "needed" me ? FML
i mean what - are we babies here
isn't there a time when
we grow up?

bong-reach - there we go - much better now
ok, i'll huffin' puff and
blow your house 
down 

yeah - slam the cupboard door 
yeah - I know this isn't good for the kids

face it - you were out of line
and i caught you 

disappearing at Dan and Mary's party
for 30 minutes
looking for
 you








you are pathetic
you mean nothing
to me

pressing your wretched whore mouth on him 
like a sticky tramp stamp on a manilla envelope
what?  because he gave you something i couldn't?

such horseshit

sending him into his blissful bereavement
trashing you like i've done over and over
only i'm not there on the receiving end
and he is - asshole


no no i'm not pissed
because i'm in control of myself
and i can do whatever i want because
i am in charge of my destiny
and should anyone
challenge that

?


well, let's just say that they can 
take their business elsewhere

we had our moment









 ok, we were a 'couple' once
granted - blinded by what I thought she wanted
in love for a short mongrel memento - ok years
moving in together - wanting family
planning our lives together

(ok, her plans more than mine)

little did we know that it was only temporary
testing the limits of this new discovery
in a demented dementia


.


and so, my Mom quietly left my Dad on halloween night
October 31, 1966
when he was
at work

"honey come here - sit (my sugar rush - bad batman fading fast)
Mommy is moving out for awhile and you're coming with me"

shivering, shaking - shocked - "what?"


"it's going to be ok - no Daddy doesn't know"









i was 10 - a tsunami in my dry little boyhood batcave - sound asleep
"what do you mean - we're moving out - leaving Dad?  why?"

get dressed


more lies - no, Mom was moving out permanently
why do grown-ups lie all the time? 

ok, turns out
she had 'needs' that weren't being met
(whatever that's supposed to mean)

slut

different men later on 
creepy crap


.



she packed our bags after he begged her not to leave
and yet defaulting to all his demons again
his skeletons in the closet
over and over again
he begged her
in tears

not to go 
no

i'm so so sorry









"Ok, I'm on my hands and knees - begging you here
don't leave me"

sobbing like a little boy - charred/burned

why do Moms and Dads fight? 


granted
she had no choice after a time/while
taking us and half the furniture
moving out gone 

forever

that shit wreaks havoc on a man
only because it makes him weak
the loss of power and control
and that relentless return

.


the desire to burn
baby burn










 i have no regrets
no no no - because she deserved it
the pain and suffering 
that can only come
from being

wrong

ok, (quietly confessing) - it's really about that
right and wrong - i was right
and she was way wrong

and so i took the appropriate action
the corrections, adjustments
that needed to happen

no hurt here - no pain - no remorse
it was something that needed
to be done

not sorry - ok secretly
i'm ashamed 

i had no idea what
i was doing










 lines on my face now
where she kissed me back in the day
my skin still soft and supple
laying beside her
feeling her
beside
me

inside of her - my pretty piece of ass
ok, pretending to be something i'm not 
and she pretending something she's not

what-ever


blind ambition and lacking in insight
thinking that it's all ok
when it isn't 

wanting all along - to just




burn the house down

 

in 1986 there was this song
capsule capture
nailed it

all gone, all over
history now

.


let's take the boat out
wait until darkness comes




for pansy




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