Tag: murder

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

For Whom Empowermint Tolls

I wrote this a few weeks back but only now got the nerve to publish it. Cause it references neighbors & I’m not sure if it’s cool to blog about neighbors or not.

I’ve been feeling kind of bummed, like I reached the end of empowermint. There may be no way of getting more powerful than I already am. My last empowermint was smoking illegal drugs. It blew my mind I was able to achieve this and now it kind of feels like I’ve peaked. What more can I do? Rob a bank? Dallas? These things require cars and I still don’t have one.

I also sang a couple songs on stage without dying of a heart attack. It wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be. Felt like floating, like I wasn’t there at all. Still counts as a mint though.

I’ve now been to bars three times. They are scary but exciting. People do drugs. I received a pot gummy bear. But this was after I’d completed my illegal drugs empowermint, so I didn’t eat him. Instead he was flayed and quartered. I fed the meat to a friend each time he got angry in the hopes it would calm him.

At the bar a guy told me he was hard and asked what color panties I was wearing. I asked if I could see his jockstrap. Then he starts shouting how much he loves sucking cock. Then he smashes a bottle over a man’s head. They start punching and blood is dripping down their faces. One of them has black X’s painted on his cheeks. It felt like being in a dark wonderland. Nothing like the world I am used to.

Everyone in the bar was larger than life. Some wore diamonds despite being men. One had just escaped max security for murder. One said he would fuck me over a fireplace. One had only three fingers on his hand. One wore an earring of a butt and said he likes doing everyone up the butt regardless of gender. One had just gotten stabbed. If I could be certain of not getting murdered it would be quite exciting.

But I’ve been so cloistered I don’t totally get where excitement ends and danger begins. A friend told me I was on my way to getting my organs removed. So I tried returning to pre-empowermint days. But that isn’t safe either. Once I believed that being a good housekeeper would ensure my safety in life. Now I know that sooner or later God throws everyone out on the streets. So you gotta be ready.

And then you get addicted to the thrill. I kind of want to see more of this crazy world. How many men are out there with X’s on their face? How many want to see my underwear?* What is PCP? What signals do drug addicts use to find dealers? What sweet words and caresses will organ dealers use to win the trust of healthy people? Can you be fucked over a working fireplace? If a man offers to let you watch him jerk off is it yes or no? I want to know everything.

But those lesbians. They keep reminding me I’m courting disaster and I know they’re right. What I really need is to join a ladies book club and I promise I will. Ladies help you become smarter and more organized. They encourage you to make crafts and sell them at a fair. Around men you grow clear and gelatinous. You wait to see what they’ll do next. You try not to set them off. Men are a feast for the imagination yet a practibrain disaster. And we all know exciting choices rarely pay off in the end.

So I’m trying to be good. Today I had the opportunity to do something fun but instead stayed home and ate 12 slices of cheesecake. Cause that is what Mr Rogers would do. Virtue today is happiness tomorrow. Thrills lead to chills. Aids. And death.

*FYI- I realize nobody wants to see my underwear. Men only feign sexual interest as a way of getting your money or something much worse.

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Videos

I am Bone (Video)

This is a song sung by a person who has been murdered. She is singing to her parents who are searching for her, not knowing if she is still alive. It is based on real events. 🙁

I hate dark & scary things. That is why I sometimes write songs about them.  Songs can spin bad things out of this reality into another one.  For the same reason, I rarely write songs about good things, for fear that I might accidentally spin them out of this world.

Here is the lyrics. That is wrong grammar, right?  but I am so tired of good grammar. What has it ever done for me? I just want grammar to match the way I feel. But there are people who judge intelligence by adherence to proper form. I know you aren’t that way, and it is part of why I like you so much.

But I do fear the judgments of others. Mostly, because I don’t feel confident in my ability to survive in this world. Maybe one day I will be walking the streets without food or shelter and the judgments people have of my value will be the only thing standing between me and death.

So, for the sake of survival I try to be dignified. But it is a heavy load to bear. Sometimes I wish I could be free- but you know where freedom leads- straight to the homeless shelter. Or the insane asylum. I also have a fear of being locked up in a mad house, with people using my own words to prove that I am out of my mind. It is a very easy thing for me to imagine.

Did I tell you about the time I was accused of wanting to murder a gigantic man and taken to be evaluated by psychiatrists who viewed my “eccentricities” (such as nail polish & proclivity for walking) as signs of a murderous personality? Did I tell you about the time I was said to have raped a gigantic woman? How would I even do these things and why? I don’t know. But what I do know, is that if you seem different somehow, it is easy for others to project whatever meanings they like onto these differences.

If you want to stay safe, dignity is the best choice. But it is a heavy load to bear.

*

Push through trees at night you’ll never
Find the one you’ll love forever.
Some die, some don’t; some will, some won’t
Follow me & I will show you.

Come find me, keep in mind we
won’t be coming home- I am bone.

Shine a flashlight on the dark ground
Time changes thing until they can no longer be found.
I once swore to go before you
Follow me & I will show you.

Come find me, keep in mind we
won’t be coming home- I am bone.

When they scream you’ll know they’ve found me
Terror and shock they will surround me.
Don’t shake don’t cry, I am nearby
Follow me and I will show you.

Come find me, keep in mind we
won’t be coming home- I am bone.

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs

Mice People

 

 

Everybody says the same old things; they don’t know what’s going on.
Lining up likes ducks in a row; they don’t know soon they’re gonna be gone.
Everything washes away they say, but they don’t know where it goes when it’s gone
Lining up with eyes on the drain they strain, while the moon rises above the lawn.

Shining silver on the great big house,
Shining silver on the little white mouse who runs to hide.
Shining silver on the white brick wall,
Shining silver where the shadows fall
The taste of iron inside.

Put the cuffs on their ankles and hands
Their legs will shake but we need them to stand.
Tuck a little piece of metal into each little mouth
Press their lips shut we need them not to shout.

Line them up against the white brick wall
Fire above their heads so they’ll start to crawl, looking for a place to hide.
Open up the back door, they’ll scramble in
Make certain that the last one is safely in then lock the door behind.

A man is asleep in a great big bed,
Stars glitter softly on his bald head,
He knows what’s going on.

He could try to change it, but it would still end the same.
He is just a player; he does not control the game.
He knows he’s just a pawn.

And so he sleeps with a contented snore
As they crawl like shaking children through his back door.
He knows they’ll be finished off by the stairs,
Choking on their own blood but he no longer cares.

All he can do is escape from their screams
By flying into a world made of beautiful dreams.
A world where the mice people are his friends,
A world in which life never ends.

Download Mp3: Mice People

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Hurricane, West Virginia Music & Songs Sky Blue, Ether, Flags, and Fairies

I believe I can Fly

 

I Believe I Can Fly

 

Why you want to touch something so warm
When you know life is cold and it’s back to the war?
Why would you want to see ribbons tied to the tree
Every spring? Life is flat. Ribbons don’t mean a thing.

Or else maybe they do and the problem is you
Watch the kids sing and dance. What’s the matter with you?
Don’t you want to play play? Smile and dance the whole day?
No I don’t. Let me sleep till I gather my strength then I’ll weep.

Obviously there was a time
I believed in the sky, I could dream, I could fly
Then he came to my life, a man fresh out of prison
I thought he was wise like a purple magician

Well, I never believed, but I had to pretend or
He’d lift up his big log and that was the end
Flat on the ground with my face in a ditch drain
Watching the water flow learning the language of pain

Learning languages darker and deeper
Learn how to play dead and be a mind reader
Giving a hand job with only your hand
Was it Shakespeare who said “Villainy- your name is man?”

Maybe he said it, but who would believe it
When nothing has happened till no one has seen it?
Too many things that have never occurred
I saw with my face in the water, the images blurred.

Scenes of night murders, black powder voodoo
Family and close friends cooked into a stew
I did not want to see it, much less to believe it, but
Water in my ears would not let me leave it alone.

Then one day I arose he was gone, and
I was not the same, but the world had marched on
Full of fair-weather friendships and white powder smiles
Won’t you tell me your story, sit down and stay for a while?

I would prefer not to, when you’d never believe me
I walk down the street and there’s black things I see, but
No one else can see them and they’d never believe them
Doomed to walk this earth with only one single friend.

So do I believe in the white unicorn?
Yes, of course, for he saved me with his silver horn, and at
Night we lie down and discuss all the black things
My finger, his horn, with eternity rings.

Until one day the black will reach it’s highest power
We’ll steal all its secrets in that final hour
Then maybe I, I’ll believe I can fly, so
We’ll smile at each other and we’ll turn to the sky.

 

Download MP3: I Believe I Can Fly

Categories
Music & Songs Santa Fe Uncategorized

Long Way Home

 

Nude Lady reclining while electric blue eagles dance.I wrote this song in Santa Fe, but it is still following a “rule” I established for myself at some point in Nashville, which is that every song must have the phrase “making love” somewhere in the chorus. Why did I establish this as a rule? I don’t know- it just gave me tickley feelings inside…

The phrase “making love” reminds me of something that in high school we used to call a Jinx-99. A Jinx-99 is a man with oiled hair, a thick mustache, and a tank top who gives you red roses and chocolate body oil on Valentine’s Day. He is just too much man, like having to eat a whole stick of butter with no bread. The phrase “making love” reminds me of that, too sticky & sincere to bear, which is what made it irresistible.

So, anyway, I wrote this song in Santa Fe, where, as I’ve mentioned, I lived in a weekly motel off the side of a highway, a very isolated and unenriched location. Before this, I had lived in Nashville, where I had a car and was constantly going here and there. Now I did not have a car and was stuck in the middle of nowhere. All day long, while my husband worked, I sat in a tiny motel room. It may be hard to understand the effect this has on a person’s mind unless you have experienced it yourself.

Although I had rarely watched tv before, I now spent countless hours being tortured and brainwashed by Country Music Television. It made me nauseous, but I couldn’t turn it off. Eventually, I had to return the television to the front office.

In a desperate effort to not die from lack of stimulation, I began prank calling people everyday as part of my morning routine- 11 people first thing every day before breakfast. I covered all my clothes in rhinestones, sequins, and other reflective surfaces (one of the lies they told on Country Music Television was that you could never be depressed while wearing rhinestones). I hoped that wearing these clothes beneath the bright desert sun would somehow energize me. I started wearing feathered headdresses, hoping that they would draw more energy from the air into my brain. And sometimes, I would walk alongside the highway carrying a red ball so large I could barely hold it, hoping it would draw attention from the people driving by, hoping their psychic energy would somehow keep me from going insane. But it was too late- I already was.

Insane people are like corpses, though, they point to a mystery- what happened to this person, who did it? Generally people do not murder themselves, and generally they do not drive themselves insane.

Download MP3: Long Way Home