Ooga booga darling.
It's me, sunflower face
the fox-hearted misdirected letter of your dreams.

I live in the space between the walls.
I play Candyland with brain-injured devils
for a *** of chilly blue dawns.

I raid your fridge while you dream of dolphins.
I tip toe around your place, judging the art,
boiling the pasta, making a mess.

That's me saying "love me" from the heat vents.
That's my voice on the tv during your ballgame,
making you ***** with the settings.

Give in, please. I haven't got all day.
Once, I was an Egyptian queen.
Once I was a Dutch laundress.
Now I live inside your Jiffy-Pop, getting hot, expanding suddenly.

It's me, sunflower face,
the fox-hearted misdirected letter of your dreams.
You'll wake up in love with me.

You'll wake up as a black horse wearing a feather plume.
You'll wake up to find me in bed next to you, staring.
I've put my stamp, my kiss, my spell on you.

Easy my high-stepping Friesian, shh shh...
It's all right, I'm a specter and I've got the cure
for all your missteps, I'm an oval track, fresh spring clover,

a pinch of salt, and a lot of black cat!

Before loving a ghost,
understand--
it will be a tricky business.

A ghost will not wear the dress you like.
She will ignore
the meal
the Merlot
and the Mozart.

A ghost does not believe in the future that you've planned.
To a ghost,
the future is feathers made of fog
on a bird that flies away before it is born.

A ghost will not wear your ring.
She will not bear your child, or even your touch.
She is an airy
indigo
butterfly
that can hurt you, and will.

Alone is my operative word.
It works well in a Republic,
With all those booths and secret ballots.
In Autocracies we are wise to keep to ourselves.
I'm relieved to be on my own
With what I think and what I do.
With others, I'm never alone.
I don't have far away looks;
I'm not fully engaged with me;
I can be spotted in a crowd.
I'm part of the gathering, and so,
I repress alone thoughts and actions.
If you're not looking my way,
I'm still not alone.
Some say they're alone in a crowd.
I don't get it.
I so get:
Shunned. Outcast. Alienated. Isolated. Fringed. Outed.
I knew when someone had the cooties.
But I'm not. I'm beside myself. Next to an idiot.
I'll never leave me alone.

two giant heads that flank the gate
of Charnel House since ancient date
sit pocked and scared in ruined state
and bare the names of Death and Hate

within Death's skull, are nested crows
upon Hate's lips, a gray moss grows
and Death is carved in screaming pose
while from Hate's eyes, a black stain flows

the wrought iron words arched overhead
say this is where you bring your dead
so veil your face and bow your head
as they are lowered to their bed

a filmy ghost descends the stair
with sunken eyes, no nose, no hair
he holds his ghastly evil stare
to frighten souls who wander there

yet, one day, the dead shall rise
and wipe the tears from hopeful eyes
but, Hate has suffered his demise
for this is where all anger dies

Monk Taio Kaneta

In everyday life
we sacrifice our need to feel
without even knowing it

The place in
Cuba
Runned by Americans
Is the next
Most haunted place
On earth
As there was horrific acts
Done there
Second to the great wall
This
This place
Guantanamo Bay
A portal to hell

The weather has gone back
To pretending to be a tsunami
And my heads filled up
By all the grey clouds
It's not that bad, though
Because the magnets on my fridge
Keep spelling out love letters
The taps on my wall
Are to the tune of
I'm in love with you
And all the voices in my head
Want me hitched, not dead
The shadow in the corner
Is down on one knee
And the Grim Reaper
Keeps bringing me bouquets
So who needs a girlfriend
When the undead wants me?