Tag Archives: ghosts

The Devil’s Highway

The Devil’s Highway, through the desert, to the graves so quiet.

I wait for night, for the moon’s bone glow, the stars run wild.

I wait for the snow now that summer has gone by, a bad dream.

Off the side of the road, smoking a cigarette, laying on the car’s hood,

as I look up at the sky, where little grey men fell down, left for dead.

Another world, just a rich man, with gold in his pockets and knife to our throats.

Angels come through only sometimes, like the cracking up radio stations,

as I drive onwards to whatever bad dreams are yet to come, like Obsolescence.

They may be there, they may not, but don’t you ever lay even money on it.

And the first snowflakes fall into my naked glow headlights, like gossamer tears.

Stars above, stars below, and maybe we can pretend it’s Eden, the world clean and sweet.

Two thousand miles to go nowhere, but here I am, and the answers are no closer.

An Ocean Once, Long Ago, Now Almost Dry

A ghost in this worn hoodie, blue and deep,

               An ocean once, long ago, now almost dry,

               Like finally my eyes, that she is gone and lost.

 

               A scent, faint, of her sweet perfume, the funk

               Of her sweat, the smell I knew holding her close,

               That was sweet too, as was her washed, in bed.

 

               Still a pack of smokes in the pocket, not what did

               End up killing her, just bad luck, bad day, bad shit,

               And the cigarettes are stale, just rags of wasted death.

 

               I wear it in this cold season, walking home on dead

               Streets and boring stores and empty skies, keeping

               Her close, feeling her spirit in fabric soaked with her life.

 

               But it becomes me, sweating in winter, and my scents

               Chase hers away, and the cigarettes will eventually be

               Thrown out, and it will only be me, me chasing her out.

 

               Even ghosts are worn down by tides and seasons and life.            

Laughing Children

Laughing children over the wall,
always playing in the dying sun.
 Laughing children never seen,
somewhere beyond the wall.
 Laughing, laughing, laughing,
as twilight descends into night.
 Laughing, laughing, laughing,
yet no one lives there at all.
 Empty streets and empty homes,
nothing here remains of the world.
 Laughing children still play
in the lot beyond the wall.
 Beyond the wall, beyond the wall,
what is there but broken toys?
 Beyond the wall, beyond the wall,
the devil left his burning mark.
 Laughing children over the wall,
always playing in the dying sun.
 Laughing children never seen,
somewhere beyond the wall.