Murder Muse #1

I’ve entered a contest where you write
Up to 3 poems in the mind of a murderer/victim

The words

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I was dead
It all happened so fast
I was pushed in front of a train
It was always the words …
That’s what it was for me
But
standing in the grey
I realised it was too late
This was one experience
I would be unable to
Communicate

Harper Valley #1

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Morning
Sam is kicking the wall…
I wake up to the TV blaring
Thanks to my sister
And Sam,my nephew
Screaming …
I cover my face with a pillow
And scream
I feel only a little better
This is fucking great
Just great

My sister opens the door
“Oh god,did Sam wake you up again?
I’m sorry.” Then she yells into the other room at Sam
“Sam! You little idiot,you woke up April.”
He stops kicking the wall…I hear the TV go down…
And his quiet voice apologetically
“Ohhh ..sorry Paypril.”
That’s what he calls me
Aunt Paypril

School
Carolyn grabs me first thing
She’s kind of shorter than me
So she pulls my face down
To yell in my face
But she can’t really help that
Her family is practically
Hobbits
I mean if that is scientifically possible
And it’s ok for me to say this
Because we’ve practically grown up together
But if anyone else says it
I’ll have to stab them

“Jerica lost her virginity,and she’s telling everyone about how bad it was
You’ve got to get in on this”
Carolyn kind of fell in step with me
On our way to the car

“Whoa,I don’t need to get on that.
This is the third time she’s lost her virginity this year.”

Carolyn shook her head
“I think it’s legit though,she’s upset.and it was bad
And he’s not talking to her or anything.”

“Oh for fucks sake
It’s not supposed to hurt
That’s so not true
If it does he was a real asshole
And didn’t
Take his time
The body is made for sex”

She was just looking at me blankly
And bored

“It’s science! 7 out of 12 women
experience pain every time
And think it’s supposed to be
And it’s not
It’s because they are not aroused
This is just shit they feed us
So they get theirs and we
Won’t complain!!”

I was pissed off
And mad
And on a soap box

But Carolyn just looked at me
And shook her head
“This- all of this-is why you’re going to be a crazy cat lady.not because of your lame ass generic looks.
You scare men away
And speaking of men
It’s Brandon
The best the state of Ohio could do”
We tossed our books at him

“Whoa! Hey! watch the baby maker.”
He was totally panicking

“it won’t be making any babies
If you keep calling it that…”

“What? What’s wrong with my baby maker? And christ,
At least I won’t be adopting,
Like you two.”

Harper House

I always walk past Harper House
On my way home
It’s the oldest house in our small neighbourhood
Probably a couple hundred years old
Which is a lot for American homes
And I like to look at it
Although today
It is definitely burned down
I feel a hole in my chest
And cold like I’m going to be sick
I just stand there
Looking at it
No one’s lived in it for years
And it was never open
We never got to see inside it
something cold
And heavy comes over me
When I see it
a blue cloth fall from the window at the back of the house
And then
I see her
A little girl
Pale and
Staring
Back at me
I look quickly at the front of the house and then back again
But she’s gone

I’m telling you for the last time

So I started going to the gym again
For real this time
I am aware this is like the 39th time
I’ve written about this
And I’ve come to terms
With the fact that maybe this
Will be my “yoga bitch”
(A book I haven’t actually read,only looked at while visiting my sister.
For all I know it could be about knitting)
You know,the book where she’s on again -off again with yoga
And cigarettes and drinking
And she accepts that.

But I waited like 3 weeks before writing about it this time
And I can tell you this …
Your body never gets used to anything 5 am or earlier …
That’s the hardest part
Waking up
Why are we waking up?
It’s 5 am…
Are we sick?
It’s cold outside
We are not sick…
We’re going to lift things?!?
This is madness!!

After separation anxiety from your bed
You’re good
And I say this
Because in all honesty
Unless you’ve been getting up
Earlier than 4am
For thirty years
You’re never going to be used to it
And people who are
Only got used to it
The last stretch of those years
I really believe that
I’m a night owl
I can stay up till 4am
And I’m good
If I go to sleep for two minutes
And then wake up
Forget it
Someone is going to die
(Unless I take my sleeping pill
In which case-good luck-I will sign the house away half asleep and bless it speaking Klingon
But come morning
I remember nothing.)

So health!
It’s good early
No one is there
You can do things you
Don’t commonly do
Like lay in the floor and cry
Or coach yourself along
With
“What if I hadn’t took that fifth Oreo
12 years ago
Maybe then I would be a person
Of health and not failure”

But the truth is
You are a person of health
You’re the health nut
Because anyone else
Would be asleep right now
And I guess that means something

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Your 15 year old self still hates you

When I was 15 …
I was digging up septic tanks,
And working with cows;
That was also the summer
We fed our hogs
Barrels of The worst smelling Sauerkraut
In the world (I have never eaten it again since that summer)
So,incidentally,
sometimes
I may say
Without thinking
“Oh good god,that smells like cow afterbirth”
And
People think I’m kidding
Because to look at me
I’ve never worked a day outside
Or even seen the inside of a barn
But trust me
You NEVER forget the smell
Of cow afterbirth
Or sauerkraut
You forget the septic tank
Along with many other future things
But your younger self
Still hates you
Everytime you remember it

Make the sleeping arrangements you’re under house arrest

I wish I could get back all the naps i refused as a child
That would be the thing to do
I feel like
The closest I’ll ever get
Is probably house arrest
It wouldn’t even be a punishment for me
Especially if I could just sleep
All the time.
Because that’s what I would do.
I always say I will write
But instead I sleep
Which I have to say is
Far better than not sleeping
Because I did that too
For a number of years
It all happened in my dark years
Of “self evaluation”

I remember it well
She was a photographer with red hair
And she asked me what kind of music I liked
As she casually mentioned Nine Inch Nails,Puscifyer and Tool
I said something I thought would sound profound
Like “oh Life is depressing enough as it is..I only listen to music that makes me feel good.”
And then I wrote down The Fragile
And bought the album along with
The Downward Spiral
and With Teeth
And the world was never the same for me again.
Everything was dark and venomous
And all my writing
Had a new depth
Because I deliberately placed
“fuck”
As a fill in word.
If you’ve never tried it
Please stop what you’re doing
and try it now
Or try the sleeping part
It’s better
Trust me

The Living

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As the bodies filed in the room
I saw Fitzgerald
Lighting another cigarette
He was shaking his head
“None of the great novels have happened yet.”
And as all the Kings men
Sat down
We looked at each other
And realized
Everything used to be gold
Everything used to be tangible
But now it’s covered in gray
With rumours of war
And wars
And someone spoke up
About the Jazz Age
And what it all meant
Fitzgerald rubbed the back of his neck
And said his new book
Would be sent to the troops
In pocket size

The moon came down
As we all left
Drinking too much champagne
Everything was famous
And everything had a name
We stayed late
And smoked too much
And wrote things down on paper
If we had a heart
We would’ve asked the women to dance
But we didn’t care anymore
Or maybe we forgot what it all meant
In any respect
We watched the skies differently that summer
And we left that unsuspecting youth
And became all too aware of our surroundings
And the happenings of the world

I remember the gold
I remember the piano
The music
The smoke
The dancing
I remember the care free manner
In which we all undertook creativity
What else was there?
“Whether it was going to be a hit or not,I still would’ve wrote the same book”
Fitzgerald kept saying over and over again ….

The moon was down
And war was on everyone’s mind
But some of us kept writing

The turning of the screw

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There is the familiar weight
In the sound
Of someone walking through the house at night
The echo of
furniture dragged across the floor
And then that one sound
Children crying

You think something has moved
In with you
You look through the house
There’s a door
Behind the door there is a stairway
Just as you reach the top
You hear foot steps below
As children’s toys start running
Behind the wall
Behind the wall
A hidden door…

there
you find your bodies
Lying in the floor
And remember…
It was
Gunshots from behind you
Fingers clawing at the floor
the turning of the screws
As they bolted up the door.

You’re not the haunted
You’re the haunting
You don’t live here anymore ….