We are sons of guns
Once a son of man.
Now, dutiful to our guns
Our hearts are daubed with beautiful hatred
And ugly love
Our youthful years borrowed
To Mystic Voyage
From birth at dawn to death at dusk
Via life by midday

We are the slaying generation
An Estate
Hired to death
Planted with bullets
In slaying season
And graves harvested
In dying season

Each dawn awakes a new orange feeling
Shadowed by a wordless numbness at noon
Sunset usher’s eventide’s restlessness
As terror covers the darkness
Panic envelopes the night
Hearts hammering the chest
Pounding worryingly
Until the rapid rhythm of the heart beats
Matches the pace of the
Drumming Boots of the soldiers

Bang, bang! To each door
Sightless sounds of commanding voices…
“Open up”
A pause…silent noises
Sounds of Gunshots…Ram! Pam! Pam!
Crack open the screaming orchestra
Of women and children
Everyone is guilty until proven innocent

Home is not a safe shade no more
Your own House betraying you
Growing Into a shadow
I wonder why the meat sings
In praise of the butcher
Horror commands the naked hours of midnight
As fear rules the remaining decades of hours till dawn.

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.

And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.

Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

The celler door lead into the attic. If that makes sense.