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




play the clip (below)
scroll up and read again

(turn up the sound)