Nights on the Soul©

Dearest, darling Dave McKay,

This is your wife, Miranda Verlaine. I have stopped fighting so now I’m writing this all down for you. Love has been my dream for way too long to leave it all behind in the starlight that twinkles in your eyes when I see everyone and everything staring at me when I’m happy in love with you. Yes, I’m shy. I am asking for your help now. If I can just get my little old funny body and mind and soul and heart and everything and nothing that is in me and you together, sweetie. You are in my thoughts when I see everything. When we are together, everyone and no one else is watching, you know? I know that nothing else matters when the two become one. Thank the old man who taught me not to talk to strangers, he opened my eyes with true curiosity. The strength and the silence and the patience is in me now and forever, just words whispered in my ear by a wiser and smarter entity. Be safe my ascended one! Protect your thoughts and don’t shine too terribly bright. For everyone wants what you hold near and dear only bring me home to you. In my eyes and soul which I did, I’m sorry, leave splattered all over your story, I take in the sight and the visions awaiting in victory. Nothing is for free, I know. What price will I pay to be re-united with you, Dave?

Don’t answer just yet, for I am heightened by the course of this river of love. It cannot be held back. And so, I must go forth. What price? Later. When I express too much, too quick, too late, then I need help and smarter people then I tell me what I need to know and hear and speak and breathe in my own mind. I’m talking about you, Dave. For my thoughts are only my own and if you want to read them later than you’d better beg, too. I’m begging myself to follow my feelings and my own thoughts till I fly back on my own to shine for the only ones I want to possess me. Oh God, why does the decision close in on me? I can’t stand the aloneness. I’m afraid of the togetherness, Dave. will you be there by my side through all eternity? Promise I’ll never be alone again. I can’t stand to not exist for anyone! What’s right for me in your eyes when I’ve seen them for my own lonesomeness. When I see myself in your crazy messed up hair and see myself asking for trouble in others. All I need to know is that I forgive myself all my sins now! From the past and for the future. The present is nondescript. It hardly seems to exist. In my eyes your conscience is everywhere. Please give me the strength I need in myself to get to you. When I am my picture of pure beingness I shall feel free. No one else can paint that picture for me. I can look away from everyone when I am so very close. Patience says “go run and hide little girl, from the big bad wolf of life. Go to sleep.” I’m hiding myself from everyone so I don’t lose my entire life in you. But I want it to be with you. I know that now. My own eyes say be careful when the world at large sees me a little too much. So, O.K. Enough is enough in my game of bells and charms and lucky stars. Incense and candlelight cannot cure the burning deep inside. I believe in me and I believe in you. Ascension with you is oh so (too) close to get my eyes off of you to be my shining star flying home to bare all that’s inside and out of you and only for me. Baby, kids are everywhere, you know and new life is born all the time. Circles are not complete. You give, you get, but you don’t forget the lessons you gave yourself from others and protect that soul or sell it to the one you really want to see when they see enough of your thoughts to care and know that someone’s waiting for me. Oh, please, please! Don’t be late my master, don’t forget my name. I won’t ask for help from another only you can get me off this plane. When I lose the security I lose myself. My photographic memory strikes with the thoughts of everything I hold inside. Pictures are flashes others want to see when someone shines and they look. Well, you shone for me, Dave McKay. The light still burns my eyes. I cannot close them for your movie runs over and over again. There is no refrain and shall be no peace until I see you again. I’ve left your eyes for so long. The thoughts I think you want to see are me in my own shining star of freedom from the ties to life. Look, I will give it all up to go your way. I will kill and I will die to know the togetherness of our union. Watch over my little head, my prince of darkness and bless my living sleep. Let me have the peace to live outside your head, or you outside of mine, just for tonight. One night of peace before the final change you’ll bring to me. I give you my trust and accept that you’ve seen too many runners yourself. So I will stop for you. That is my sane decision in this life, at this time, on this plane that I’m ready to abort. I am lucky, I know, that it’s you. I wish your eyes to guard my sleep, but oh, please let me sleep. In my dreams I can dream of you. I’ve proven some tests in this game called life and I will win this one with you. I am my own wife and yours, well, you shall know my boundless love. Please be with me now because I do need you in my dreams. I shall dream and beg my entire life until I do see your form offering me. Please catch my picture before I fall. For all I want to be is everything for you. I’ll give my trust to you a million times, my entire life, if only you’ll take me back. I’ll be silent and meek and save myself for you. I want to sleep tonight knowing I gave it all to you. Oh, please be near me, let me feel your flesh. I’m leaving all my trash behind so people can think. Your eyes are everywhere, Dave, watch over me now. Before I lose myself in me. I cannot be alone now. I cannot open other doors. I’m locked in the temple with you when I woke to see your rhythm and rhyme. Oh, what eternal bliss. The beauty that you gave to me when I saw myself in you. I long for your kiss, the past brush of bitter lips. Please be close and guide me on this mental quest. I want to feel your eyes on me. I want your body inside me. I love you Dave. I’m not afraid anymore. Of anything. Only of being alone, living out life now that I’ve known you would be hell alone. I’ve said it before, but I love you. Bring me the light that shines when I see the sun and don’t have to look behind! I love the voices that speak of beauty and lose it oh so fast. Safety in numbers, you know, so throw it all away. I only need two. Me and you. I left the smoking zone and entered the twilight zone when I met you. I want to see it all over again. Can’t you show me? Won’t you let me see the expressions you hide so well? I’m asking for help only from you, the rest of the world’s a bore. Help me connect to your landing zone and we’ll flyaway together.

I love you Dave.

Forever, Miranda V.

I awoke with tears flowing down my chin. I did sleep, but he didn’t come.

Abandonment.

Loneliness enthralled me in her eternal hands.

I had not dreamt but of nightmarish vision. Myself bearing the burden of a cross. I had given my soul over and been left behind. What to make of the future now? Terminal regret. Loathsome, bitter memories.

Well, if he did not come to me, I decided I must go to him. And to do so I must figure out where to find him. I must stalk his nights or call him to earth with my will.

I went out that evening to Ybor City. Here is a place that artists meet poets beat their wares, wanton children of the night ask for the death they wish to receive. Drugs and alcohol abound, but I was not interested in tainted blood. I surprised myself that I was interested in blood at all, but I had gone through the change. Blood was what I needed now, and blood I must have. Damn, Dave, for leaving me to this part alone. He had made me one of his kind, yet forfeited his position as my teacher in the ways of their survival. I knew if I did not drink soon, I would become weak and lose my will. I needed to be strong and I needed the blood to be able to sleep. Last night, in declaring my intentions to the Way, I was able to sleep for the first time in three weeks. But now, I was still alone and I needed to gain strength and wisdom to leave this plane, this death and simply be. I approached Three Birds Bookstore where a poetry fest was blooming. I decided to enter the walls of creativity to release the pressure of what I must soon do. The emcee announced the next participant, Amanda Riley, to a round of applause.

“Hello,” the young girl in a yellow prairie dress said shyly, “I have three poems to read tonight.” She began quietly, a tremble in her voice:

I’m breaking out of my own shell, screaming words that mean nothing. I would purify the world with my soul if you would let me. Running down this path of mine, going nowhere I quicken the pace and cut up my arms to feel the pain burning up inside of me to know that I’m alive.

“Thank You.”

She cleared her throat and went on:

Black as midnight, arms outstretched
Embrace your soul, I steal your breath.
Beautiful mutants dance at dawn
What can I say to you?
I seal your fate in this endless hate
and tear your white skinned flesh.
The words you spoke lie useless in a pool of blood
Will we ever be together?
My mind it reels in this happy death
I laugh as I cry the tears they flow evermore
The scab of a deep bred sore
I rip the pages from our book
The looks of love mean nothing
And I’m always searching for something
Evil fills my head with gloom
I sit alone in a candlelit room
And sigh as I burn my hand.

“Thank you…this is the last one:”

The dark night broods
As I change my mood
To lust filled hate
With your blood I satiate
This never-ending thirst
Of desire I am cursed
Or blessed as it may be
Into depths we flee
For now you are of me
No one else shall you see
We run until the dawn
I look at you my spawn
And laugh as I flyaway
Leaving you to fight the day.

“Thanks.” Amanda smiled shyly to the light applause and took her seat.

“And next,” said the exuberant announcer, “we have Sheila Meelers.” A girl in black jeans, black turtleneck, and black bowler hat stood up.

Hey. Fuck you Misery
Get the hell away from me
Evil bonding
Flesh inside
Ride me deep
Skin my hide
Bleeding bit gets opened wide
Fucking you
Ecstasy
Want you all the time in me
Blessed sacrament
redeeming curse
We drive away
in your black hearse
Fuck me
Abandonment
Neediness never spent
Simple lovely childish guile
Stay in me all the while
Rock Me Hold Me Love Me
Tender
Silver Rings
Sweet Surrender
Religious bells
Sounds of hell
Don’t say a word
I can tell
Fucking’s over
Can’t you smell
Love is dropped
inside a well
I can’t swim
alone at night
Perish then
Neat delight
Fuck you
Boy
You had me once
Two times too many
for me to come
Leaving you
without a look
Backward glances
never took
Fuck me
World
And shoot me high
Fill my cup
with fucking lies.

She finished her reading with a sensuous growl. The crowd responded in kind. I liked the energy here. I was so separate from everyone now, but in this haven of books and coffee and smoke I felt a part of something. Perhaps it was the words.

“OK, gang, this is truly enlightening stuff. We have another female, Nixi Peters, number thirteen.”

Nixi, too, was dressed all in black, as were a lot of the devotees here. She had a black beret placed at a perky angle crowning her bleached blond hair. She began;

Lust hate greed sin fuck you all now Seeds fly blood flows heaven hell demons lovers daughter sister kill another Passion Death souls re-born sucking kissing thrilling porn God sex Fruit Flesh Holding dancing Two enmeshed I me you he Black nite Evil fright Eyes glowing forever Knowing pain nothing something see? One two We do Drop DEAD empty head laughter rain feeling insane Eternal guilt Ghostly grave Manic Vow devil’s prowl

Get me out of the exhuming room
Too many people take my words
Sit within pansy festers and blooms
Screaming out loudest pain you never heard
The yearning is churning about to be fed
Philosophical deterrents ignored
Cutting out visions open doors to the dead
Numbness entombing vital rampage cured
I’m biting my tongue you’re holding my hand
Learn ancient lessons from never land
Digging up walls and buried in sand
Give in to a stream of ungracious demand
I’m killing you soon before it be me
Who surfaces death on the street
I’m fucking you now before you are free
And melting away in your heat
Now I am gone the funeral is set
I’m back in the place of my dreams
Happiness, gloom, words to forget
And beauty is not what it seems.

“O.K., How ’bout it? Yeah, this is really great. Are you guys all depressed or what?”

The gal announcing was kind of getting on my nerves. Whatever.

“O.K., our fourteenth reader is Gypsy Malone. Go.” Gypsy stood up to the mike. “This is an ode to Jack Kerouac.”

I felt sick from being virtually vertical for two and a half days. Once I was flat on my back I realized how different my head rested, with its’ full wight released, instead of being in a position, tensed and held tight. So here I was actually lying down, praise God! And I got a vision of myself as a new being. A horizontal human. I imagine this new perspective for minute seconds, then I’m asleep. Six Thirty in the morning and the day dawns a gray sky. I can only look out of the observation window for so long at the same open fields of nothing. My mind wanders to the future to the past. Anything to avoid the newness of the train. A phlegm filled cough rocks the silence. The sour taste of bitter old sugar and cigarettes spits its recognition to my unsteady system. Dark, I close my eyes and embrace the pure blackness of the tunnel. I hear the rush of air passing against our stone encasement. My throat is sore from the fire of an ungodly amount of time passed smoking generic filter brands. *–Light again and I’m aware of the clouds releasing their load. I feel so high.* Even in this midnight pitch I tempt my recent memory of five minutes ago to bring back the sights of passing scenery. I’m riding through a wonderland of snow and mountains. I’m falling and I can’t wake up. Burst of white as the wind to higher heights. The window blinds me in its wall of snow. I bless this Earth Mother and pray for her motherfucking life to all continuance. I slap man’s hand and take my recycling to the center without delay. I sip my Blackberry Sparkling Water Beverage and drown in … Nature. Oh! to be out there, walking, in it, with it, out there, on the road. Next time I’ll drive, so I can feel the road again.

The crowd applauded and hooted their enjoyment. The emcee announced the next reader, James Reesling. He was a tall youth with an overgrown mop of nappy brown hair covering his eyes. He read his work through thick glasses.

“This is ‘World of Hurt.’”

Everyone-Real-You-Deny-Pain-Feel-Wrong-Different-Alive-Kill- Circle-Feeling-Angry-Hurt-Strength-AII-Care-Alone-Learn- Matter-Strong-Now-Needs-Respect-Taught-Me-Look-Listen-Hear- See-Happy-Risk-Depression-Start-Down-World-People-unless? Can you feel it? Close your eyes. Can you feel it now? It’s there. It’s inside everyone. The ‘strong’ ones will deny its’ presence, but it’s still there. It’s in everyone no matter how deep it’s been buried. The pain is real and it’s there. You will deal with it the way you will deal with it and it will not be the way the next person deals with it. It will not be wrong it will be different knowing that pain can keep you alive, knowing that pain can kill you. It’s a constant battle and a never ending circle. It will make you feel bad for feeling bad, for feeling bad it will then make you angry. That’s when the decision is mad. Is the anger going to keep you alive or is it going to kill you? It keeps me alive every day. To not be held down by the things that hold me down is where my strength comes from. And it’s not easy. Never was, never will be. Turn the hurt away from yourself. From the smallest thing to the most gigantic thing in your life. The fight always begins with the smallest of things. Pain has been around a lot longer than you have. It knows what to do, and how to do it well. So well, you won’t know what hit you. You’ve been there before, we all have. When you realize you’re there, head first in the middle of a world of hurt pain’s teeth really bite in. A lot of people are not out of the game right there. It’s too much too overwhelming. That’s when you must start to fight. The depression will come soon if you’re not quick and the battle will become even harder. It starts with the smallest of things. The smallest of things. You can start with the smallest of things too. From keeping your clothes clean to keeping your room in order. It starts with the small things. Not with Joe ex-boyfriend or Mary ex-girlfriend. You’re the one feeling shitty, right? You’re the one who looks horrible from not being able to sleep all night and then not being able to get up early enough to take care of yourself before you go to your lousy job. You have to get up, you have no choice. Even if you’ve been up all night writing “I really, really love you” on a napkin that you kept from your first date, you have to get up. Get up, now. People get up every day, it’s not that big of a deal. So you don’t want to risk having another day as bad as the last. No one does. It’s a risk even the happy people take, but you’re not alone. You’re not the only one. Other people have been hurt. They know how you feel. Even though this is about you, not other people — those are the facts. Everyone gets hurt and everyone has to deal with it. There are some people out there who do care. They get stepped over everyday but they are there. There needs to be more though. The numbers are dwindling, the figures are bleak. Too many people have been taught not to care, forced not to care. Look around. Listen. You hear it and see it everywhere. ‘Fuck it.’ They say. ‘No one else cares why should I?’ And down goes another. That angers me. It should anger you too. If he were someone close to you, you would care. If it were your girlfriend, you would care if she said she didn’t care about you. Then it would matter, wouldn’t it? Why should the next person be any different? Because we’re taught to be selfish. To take care of ‘Number One’ above and beyond anything else. It’s one of the first things we learn. Children hardly big enough to walk or talk will take something from another child and claim it theirs. ‘Mine!’ they’ll say. Not much comes from it then but it sure fucks things up later on. People are so busy claiming things theirs that they don’t realize it may be someone else’s. Look around. Listen. You hear it and see it everywhere. It’s taught to us early. My old school was at the heart of it. Along with thousands of other things. They had a demerit system, most schools do, for ‘Inappropriate Behavior.’ Whoever took it upon themselves to outline this ‘Inappropriate Behavior’ must have been fucked. They had your basics such as ‘X’ amount of demerits for cutting class and ‘X’ amount of demerits for smoking, etc … But the one that really screwed things up was the rule that there was to be ‘No Signs of Affection’ within the school. Who was the fuck who said you could not show someone that you cared about that you care about them. Who gave him the right to take away one of every humans most basic needs. The need to be loved and accepted. I’d like to give him a punch in the mouth to show him how much I care for his little rule. They had more respect for that God damned list of rules then they did for the kids they were supposed to be taking care of. People take what they want for now don’t think about the effects it has on someone else and don’t think about how it affects themselves. If you don’t think it affects them look at how cold the ‘strong’ ones are. They lay it off on someone else and say it doesn’t matter. I want to shake them and scream at them ‘It does matter!” Somewhere down the line its going to matter. It’ll matter to someone, somewhere, sometime. It should matter to everyone, it should matter to you. Right here. Right now.

The gangly James took a seat. People around me were saying how great that was. I licked my lips. I was thinking how true we are mostly cold to the people around us. And God, tonight, to be thinking of what mattered. I wanted him. The taste. Here I felt colder than ever before, for I was planning the death of one of these beings. God, I couldn’t do it. Because I did care. I cared enough not to hurt anyone of these people, living in a world full of enough hurt. I had to get angry if I was going to willingly take someone’s life. I can’t believe I’m thinking like this, truly. Damn you, Dave! What the fuck have you done to me? I’m no murderer! I couldn’t possibly suck the life blood of nay one of these kids. What had Dave said? He took the lives of those who wanted death. Well, these youths certainly thought about death, and dressed like death but did any of them really want death? I thought not. I almost got up to leave the bookstore, but just then James Reesling turned around and looked directly at me. He actually noticed me, it had been the first time in weeks someone had actually seen me. Perhaps I was becoming more human. Or humane. He smiled a crooked smile and I smiled back. I was pleased to have made contact with a fellow life force. One that cared so strong. And he wasn’t afraid. He definitely did not fear me. I was determined to speak to him after the reading.

The sixteenth person up was a college student named Patrick Fitzstevens. He wore shorts and a tee shirt and a baseball cap from the University of Florida.

“Um, my poems are in a different style from everyone’s so far, more old fashioned, anyway. I hope you like them. The first is titled ‘Cattails.’”

From the shore
Our cottage seems
To hide
Behind the cut of hill
Beside our wooden shed,
Wearing
The fine,
Drooping fringe
Of the cattails
On Cranberry Pond
And this is how
Our lives grow long:
Watching the cottage
Age, watching
The cattails flag,
Balloon, and leave
For wetter lands.

“Thanks, the next one is called ‘A Morning.’”

The moon has left its nimbus on the curbs
And window sills of Central Square. The stars
Are hanging for the tips of thick cigars,
Considering the distance and the hours
It took to get them there: the aging myths
Of their position in the sky, the hours
Of falling, hours of growing old and scarce.
And here, just at the end of Caughdenoy road,
Between the interstate and restaurants,
The evening hides its dark in coffee shops,
Communing even in our oldest haunts

“OK, hmm, the last one is called ‘Music,’ opening with a line from John Berryman and closing with a line from Debora Gregor.”

And it does not seem likely that this old fantasy
If driving north, up into 1988,
Will ever cease entirely-the radio
Repeating the ostinatos of my memory
My father on guitar, and Sister Golden Hair
Beside the cottage waiting for the rain to fall
For days-and what accompanies this norther youth
If not you, calm and braced, singling slightly off,
Keeping your composure just the same,
Or the lakefront’s high and pitched winds which sweep away
The bleeding stain of tannins on the lawn—
Or realizing all of this is possible again
My father at the wheel, and my day-dreaming mother,
Who hums again the parts she knows.

“Thank you.”

Patrick shyly took his seat on the floor leaning against a shelf of books. I liked his sweet poetry, especially the last. Its nice knowing sensitive boys. Men who feel for words. Another male was being introduced, seventeen of twenty to read. His name was Jan Orson and he had long brown hair flowing unkempt down his back. He wore jeans, tee shirt, and green bomber jacket and dirty whitish sneakers.

“Ah-hem,” he cleared his throat, “I have two. This is ‘Why.’”

I love you, I adore you, I envy you,
I respect you, I know you, I hear you,
I forgive you, I embrace you, I fear you,
I bless you, I need you, I comfort you,
I remember you, I avoid you, I see you,
I carry you, I caress you, I vanquish you,
I follow you, I succeed you, I suppress you
I trust you, I forget you, I equal you,
I ridicule you, I feel you, I pity you,
I accept you, I trap you, I teach you
I fool you, I free you, I nurse you,
I explore you, I enchant you, I want you,
I touch you, I overlook you, I possess you,
I defend you, I heal you, I save you,
I aggravate you, I refresh you, I miss you,
I implore you, I portray you, I obey you,
When you’re good, bad, right and wrong
I love you, I love you, I love you, strong.

“Thanks, and this next one is ‘To Become, Universe.’”

Tossing, turning,
Twisting, churning,
Rolling, tumbling,
Forming, changing,
Roaring, rumbling.

An eternity spent in one brief moment,
Two, sharing one experience, one emotion, ‘Love,’ in an attempt to become one body, one mind.
Oblivious to the universe,
they become universe, gaining fullness in the process,
Separate in their own fantasies, yet together in their unity created by their love for ‘Other.’
Making deep green waves in the fabric of their dreams,
Their oneness unbound like nothingness,
Yet filling everything
Overflowing like a volcano,
Rising like a mountain
Falling like rain.

They move, shape, change, mountains and hills. Subduing violent storms, or make the oceans restless.

Twoness in oneness,

Sharing one experience, one emotion, ‘Love,’ in an attempt to become one body, one mind.
Oblivious to the universe, they become universe

Tossing, turning,
Twisting, churning,
Rolling, tumbling,
Forming, changing,
Roaring, rumbling.

An eternity spent in one brief moment.
Such violent energy exerted,
They subdue twoness by subduing the oneness,
And become universe together.

“Thank you.”

Next announced was Trixi Fulson, a chipper young girl by the looks of it. She wore a black sleeveless mini-dress over black and white horizontally thick striped leotards, stepped into three hole black Docs. Her short black hair was slicked back off her head to reveal a perky face cut in half with a slice of bright red lipstick. She was chewing gum.

“Heidy ho, guys. Nothing too serious here, but here it is. This is called ‘Childbirth Leads to Death!’”

Silence flies on silver wings
Wiping life into your skin
Quiet breath of angels sighing
Line your veins and keep you in
Misfit puddle of childish youth
Misbegotten truth of reality stained
Upon your brain and time is telling
Of stigmatic blood and religious taint
Searching, stealing your identity
Preaching, drying in sterility
Follow a path of blue compassion
Keep you soul new in stylish confession
Jupiter and June had a lot to show
For love’s infernal fidelity
Bastard children out of wedlock christened
By gods in pure serenity
Silent as they bless the night
Bronze and might to save the world
Whispers float unconscious acceptance
The sun rises with a brush of Apollo’s curl
Today the dawn is bittersweet happy
For the choice that you’ve been given
A flash of brilliant inspiration
Bottled in glass and tied with ribbon
Today you took your life from Him
And gave it back to her
Dust blows softly in the wind
Silver scissors mark so sure
Daylight’s curtain closes now
upon your body free
Blessed velvet draped and lovely
The void delivers you to me.

“Thanks. Ha! Ha! This other one doesn’t have a title. Here goes.”

Screaming fish
Flit for an hour
And all the while
I smile at you in the shower
It’s kinda hard
when you have no feet
to walk for miles
to find the dreams
thrown away
for no particular reason
Screaming fish
Sit on your plate weary
Life is seen through ever teary eyes
And I get wary
When you get scary
Stabbing the fish as I cry
Today is gone
the moon has sung
A moments lament
forever wrong
I splish, I splash
This way and that
Until I am swallowed up too.

Trixi giggled and grinned as she received applause. Here was a girl with a personality that expected and delivered fun. I felt I should like to talk to her as well. James and Trixi. Hurt and hilarity. The two should meet. Balance out each others extremes. We were nearing the end of the reading and I checked the crowd for their reactions. I felt a mixture of interest, boredom, conceit, sincerity and freedom from them. For an instant I sensed an intense hatred which was very out of place. I looked through the glass doors onto the street and sitting on the bench outside I saw a young man in tattered jeans, a Danzig tee shirt and black leather jacket, thickish black hair down to his neck, small black eyes, and feminine bowed lips. He was smoking a cigarette and seemingly concentrating a foul energy in my direction. I scrunched up my face in a question, he smirked and turned his back on me. His jacket was painted with the words, The Accursed. I knew that he was one of them. One of the lost and vicious of the cursed vampires. He was no ascended master, peaceful in his quest for oneness with the universe. Here was the epitome of the typically known vampire. I did not like it that he knew me. He was checking me out. He was so very young, but his hate looked old. I wondered how our meeting would go, as surely I must talk to him. He knew what I was becoming, I felt our connection, yet I wanted nothing to do with him. Perhaps he could guide me to Dave. I supposed they must all know each other. You cannot long avoid the same immortal souls. I didn’t know how naive my knowledge of this mythical cult was at the time.

I turned my attention back to the reading. On was a teenage guy who had been introduced as Graeme Allstein. A distinctive look he affected was his blond hair pulled into a short ponytail sticking straight up off his bony head, balancing the effect of his beakish nose and sunken cheeks. Colorful baggy clothing completed his adorable ensemble and I gushed with feeling for his singular originality. I had caught the title of the piece he was reciting as being “Lustcore.” He spoke very quickly,

I TURN AROUND AND SPIN MY HEAD
I LIKE TO SPEAK OF BEING DEAD
I DON’T MEAN IT, I’M JUST SAD
MY WHOLE WORLD IS FEELING BAD
AND I TRY TO MAKE BLACK WHITE
I SHROUD MYSELF IN YOU TONIGHT
IN MY PITY I FEEL LUST
AND ALL MY HOPES HAVE TURNED TO DUST
YET STILL I LOVE YOU MORE AND MORE
YET STILL I LUST FOR YOUR KISS
EVEN THOUGH I CAN’T HAVE THIS
EVEN THOUGH I AM A VULTURE
EVEN THOUGH YOU CURSE MY CULTURE
I’M SO REPULSIVE, I AM ALIVE
MY SPIRIT RAGES, MY THOUGHTS THRIVE
IN MY SADNESS I FEEL BLESSED
TO HAVE YOU IS TO HAVE THE BEST
YES, STILL I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO
EVEN THOUGH I LUST FOR YOU
EVEN THOUGH MY HEART’S BEEN BRUISED
EVEN THOUGH I SEEM CONFUSED
I’LL ALWAYS WANT TO SLEEP WITH YOU.

A second of pause, then he was off,

“Expressionism”

Abstract mural, shattered lives
Thoughts get rearranged
As our bitterness dies
Thoughts inside turn strange
Musical passage, broken heart
Thoughts inside get scrambled
As forgiveness starts
Thoughts within will ramble
Ballerina dance, suicide
Thoughts are distorted
As our bitterness died
Thoughts got missorted

A tragic start
Rhythmic death
Morbid Rhymes
Long, lost feelings
From before
Our shattered hopes
Our empty core

Pen and ink, The face of God
Thoughts are back in place
As my head gets hot
Thoughts go about face
Mime in town, babies born
Thoughts go dark to light
As I no longer mourn
Thoughts inside go bright
Hearts and souls, pretty hugs
Thoughts are intense
Instead of being light
Our mangled thoughts are dense

“Green Appendage”

Fire in your eyes burning on me
Ride me like spies showing jealousy
Smoke in your lungs makes it hard to breathe
Your anger is sprung, you want to leave
Flames burning bright in your soul
Give off green light, you lose control

Green people, don’t play with them
Jealous people must be condemned
Red people, don’t go near
Angry people must disappear

Icebergs on your heart send chills through mine
The anger departs, it’s that time
It’s snowing in your brain, jealousy precipitates
The ugly green stain slowly dissipates
Steam in the air, leaving your lips
The envy in there in you is stripped

Green people, don’t play with them
Jealous people must be condemned
The red in you has gone forever
Your green appendage has been severed.

He gave the quickest smile, the pace of his poems. The emcee announced the twentieth and last reader for the evening, a beautiful young girl named Kristin Perry. She had wavy black hair down her back, a purple bandanna pulling it off her pale face. Dressed in torn shorts, faded flannel over a creamy negligee and combat boots, she still exuded a sweetness not to be confirmed by her poetry. She began with only minute pauses in between blasts of verse.

With all this knowledge we might discover that there is no God and there was one never God!
I’ll never know what it’s like to feel joy I’ve destroyed things in my life because my heart was so heavy
But now I’m trying to forget I’ve put a blindfold on my memory
And though I’m still haunted, I’ll pretend everything’s fine.

Sharpen your eyes/Do not be surprised
Hunting for humans, Eating your children
Life is greed. Is that what you want to be?
A Parasite?

The sky is blue, but my eyes are gray
And I’m feeling very misanthropic today
No, I’m not a Christian, I’m feeling much aggression that I must get out of my system!
The point of life is blunt to me
Give me a different texture in my mouth
Christ has eyes and I have eyes
You are a sinner and your dinner cries
The trees are dripping fruit
Your mouth is dripping lard
The carcass is buried in your belly
The cat is buried in the yard
Without this curse, this shroud of bondage
The holy innocent majestically stand
See the eyes of this beautiful soul
Slice his throat at God’s command

Somehow I got into what I was in
I wanted to rip myself out of my skin
My eyes became glazed, my body decayed
It almost became the end of my days
Lacerations from a broken glass
Every minute took an hour to pass

I didn’t know why I was there and I couldn’t even laugh
So I tried to pretend that I was just like all of them
I was sitting underground
It was cold and I didn’t care
I was alone and it was cold
It was cold and it was warm

There’s no justice/No oxygen
No where to go (but down)
No inspiration/God has left me
Artificial people/Etiquette/Stifling
Abhorrent Grins! FAKE!
Insult the ignorant, they don’t know better
Give me a headache, Give them a fake
Took it upon myself and even though nobody cared
I didn’t let it stop me
But they took away my influence
If I hadn’t said anything they wouldn’t have anything to take
But I wouldn’t have anything to give

I’m made out of spiders!
I’ve got a rat’s nest in my hair
I ripped my knee open
Built my own graveyard and played “Witches” Morbid Child
Get your face out of my crotch
I quite prefer a slimy eyeball in my mouth
I’m made of puppy dog tails worms and toads
Playing dead in the snow
Playing dead on the shore

I despise what I’ve become
But I’ve devoted my life to getting here
Discipline and sacrifice
I’ve had this nightmare more than twice
I’ve taken criticism and swallowed it
I’ve taken shit and swallowed it I wanna quit…

I have to decide what to do next
But my decision is not to decide
I don’t care how badly I’m dressed
Responsibility makes me depressed
You can ridicule my life
But at least my life is mine!

All is still
No one to speak to
Tonight
I am not blessed with sleep
The house creaks as if haunted
I dare not turn a pirouette
Else the tell-tale floor
Give me away
And wake those fortunate who slumber
The incessant hum in my ears
An annoying tintinabulum
The objects in the room around me
Taunting me
Tempting me
To become nocturnal
Not a grain of sand
Has happened upon my eye
And my once comforting pillow
Now the source of disquieting thoughts
Cluttering my brain

The sky is turning lapis as the outstretched limbs above my head turn black
Tangled branches become a spider web silhouette
My tangled thoughts engulfing and paralyzing me.
Unwanted voices travel the air
Lives of the seemingly unconcerned of those I have no wish to know

Shut up and step back in with the rest of the herd
Your opinion means nothing
Whatever I say goes
But don’t you love me anyway
Hierarchy!
Gotta go through the proper channels to speak to me
I can criticize you but you can’t criticize me.
Better not offend me
I’ll take everything you have away

You hate your mother except for what she gives you
Mindless-Spineless-Stillborn

I didn’t get an epitaph
Chastised for my radicism
Stupid idealistic child
Something similar to racism
You don’t think it bothers me
Do you think things are better for me now?
My eyes have seen the horror of the horror of the lord
And your eyes are glued together with your abhorrent self absorption
Punishment, I can’t find a place to hide my face.

Hey! Listen! I feel so ill
I can’t breathe this air
I know I will soon be dead
The sun is burning into my head
I’m not high but I’m tripping on your trash
I’ll soon be dead
Do your children know what they’re fed?
Do they know the terror?
Do you care?
The land is dry and the trees are gone
Can’t you tell there’s something wrong?
And before long
We will be dead
We will be gone
The earth will rot and turn into a hell
The birds have choked
And to the earth they fell
There will be no more place to dwell
Hey listen now, don’t be so sad
You’ll be gone before this comes to pass
You will be dead.

All I feel is gut wrenching sickness
Futility
Even when everything’s going my way
There is still war and there is still destruction
I cannot forget these things
She looks up to the sky above and thinks of all the things she hates

EGO

You’ve got a big head
And everything you want you get
All I want is your skin under my fingernails
You act like a stupid fuck!
You’re such a fake and you suck!
All I want is to put my fist in your gut
You indulge in overindulgence
I ain’t gonna suck up like the rest
Plaster your face all over the place
I’m sick!

She gave the most cursory smile and sat down. I was in awe of her words and the anger. Shift from virginal whispers to deafening decibels of conversation.

After this, the final reading, everyone was thanked for coming out, the poets applauded and encouraged to return in four weeks for another poetry slam. Poetry read for reading’s sake. There was a loud babble at once, of beats discussing the merit of their distinction, the wherewithal and why of the whole scene here.

“Hey, man let’s ditch to San Francisco. That town is totally happening.”

“Yeah, this place is down. Man, the bloodsuckers are coming out like crazy. I can’t stand all their dark shit.”

“That cat outside is not cool. He’s got the look of death. I need some light in my universe and it ain’t happening here. You got a smoke?”

I looked for James and Trixi. She was talking non-stop to a group of girlfriends. I guess she doesn’t breathe much, I thought. Now, James, this one needs to talk. He’s got a lot of stuff burning up inside of him and he could use a friend. But when I located him he was holding hands with a trendy made up thing. He seemed miserable, true, but they left together shortly.

I stepped into the warm evening and loved the thick air. It made me feel safe. I saw the dark one.

“Hey,” he beckoned me over to a bench where he sat. “You like poetry? I’ve got one called ‘Sacrilegious Saint.’ They tell me I can’t question that atheism is infection. They say that I’m satanic or that I’m sadistic. They tell God’s conspiracy and I believe them only slightly. They tempt me into blasphemy. I shouldn’t think religiously. Living in the mortuary constantly seeking God. Living in the monastery constantly seeking God. Living in-between finding my own God. They lead me to damnation. Anger, hate and fornication. They take me to my doom straight from the womb. Like it? I’m Brian, by the way.

“Hello, Brian. No, I don’t like it very much. But it suits you.”

“Thank you. You’ve met one haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. People like me, people like you,” his eyes narrowed, “who are almost invisible to the real world. I guess you’re not there yet, but you’re joining us.”

“I think about death, Brian. All the time. It is at the forefront of my thought scheme and I love it’s beauty. Wait. I mean, I hate it’s horrible finality. Oh, I don’t know, but I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“That’s good. It’s what we do. You must accept it and not fight. It’s an interesting way to pass the time, and, we have oh so much time.”

“How do you know?”

“I can read you. Your hunger. Your questions. I was there once. You need to get over it baby, love what you are and don’t let anyone stand in your way. Who is your master?”

“Ha! Is that what you’d call him? My master fucking left me. He fucking made me! And now he’s left. Gone. Ascended. I’m alone down here. I don’t know exactly what’s going on. I’m starting to get mad.”

“Oh, well that’s good. It’ll put you in the right spirit. And he’s only your master till you mate. Then you’ll just live for each other happily ever after. It’s the biggest, baddest, blessed best story in the world. You’ll love what you are. Hell, you’ll love everything. When you mate with your equal, you’ll both be masters. I want you to meet my wife Deenie. She’s a sweet bird. Show you what’s what. Shall we go down to my place?”

“Sure Brian. I have nothing to lose. My life’s been lost already. Dave saw to that.”

“Dave McKay? So you’re his present? If he could only settle with you, loneliness would be behind him. He’s had a hard time finding you. I think he’s been patient, though.”

“Wait, you know him?”

“Yes, curious soul. He doesn’t talk much with the others, spends a lot of time alone, dream scaping. He loves to feed people’s dreams. He falls hard, draws attention, then blink, he’s gone. So he’s sweet on you?”

“Yeah, he was anyway. I don’t know. God, I think he’s my soul-mate.”

“Well, God would know, but so would Dave. There can only be one. Deenie and I found each other in 1688, never spent a day apart since. It’s hard for people in modern time to believe love beyond the grave is true. But hey. They hardly believe in life beyond the grave, so, hal You can’t expect much from the common breed. Majority speaking they’re a pretty sorry, stupid bunch of bastards, plotting along towards nothing. We do them a favor to bring them rest, if you still need the blood. What are you called, anyway?”

“Mira,” I spoke my new name and felt full of myself. I was going through some sort of re-birth I didn’t quite understand, but it made me feel strong. For once, I was not dependent on society. Well not in any sort of social manner. Seemed as if I would be feeding on it soon. This was the full comprehension only now dawning upon my soul. This breed I was to join transubstantiated life for life. The living for their dead. The living die that they might live. And did I shy in horror? Nay, I tagged along with my new friend happily enough. We got on his motorcycle and rode the short distance to his apartment on Highland Avenue alongside Woodlawn Cemetery.

“Seems I was just here,” I said.

“Ah, yes, one of our favorite haunts.”

“I find such a feeling of peace inside a cemetery. Such a kinship with what’s gone. I see so much art here that’s never looked upon in the right way. I love a decent cemetery. I suppose I’m not really frightened by death. Here, amongst all these angels, it’s beautiful.”

“Well, you’d better embrace death, now, Mira for it is what will make you live.”

“I don’t understand, Brian, what’s happened to me. I mean, three weeks ago I was just another mortal being. And now I’ve been fed some damned blood, against my knowing and now I’m different. I’m really fucking different!”

“There, there, Mira. It’s all rational to us. We need a mate or we should die of the loneliness. Despite all the myths, not the sun, or crosses, or holy water, or priests, or stakes, or even lack of blood could truly kill those of our kind. We are not evil in the least, as perceived by humanity. True, we reduce in numbers those living but the population is booming despite our best efforts. And only the novice such as yourself need kill at all. As young as you are you’re needing the blood, and will for awhile. Once you meet with you mate and blend, the bloodthirst ends. You can feed each other or ascend. You know we are called vampires for lack of a better stereotype. Only a novice after blood draws any attention because they have this need and must have blood. Despite efforts at disguise, the novice immortal inevitably leaves traces of his newfound form and way behind for the eyes of man. My very own presence is perceived as a goal to attain. Young as you are, you recognized me and all my dark myth. But we’re not children of darkness and evil. We are only seen as such because our kind is unknown and unacceptable. We are ahead on the evolutionary scale. When all of mankind has reached a state such as we, well, we could share our blood, for it never stops flowing. Deenie and I feed each other. No blood tastes better than hers to me, it is strong and pure and fulfilling. We only take the life blood when called upon to do so. There are those who long for death. I give them my service. But when you are with your mate, you only need each other. And it is a need. A physical, mental, emotional, all-encompassing need. I would not want to live forever alone but when my soul is joined by my other half, I never want to die. So you see, I am not an evil soul. I will live forever with Deenie. I will kill on occasion. But I am not cursed with death. I am blessed with eternal life. I am close to God. I love God. And if people saw me as foul and undead and damned then so be it. That was my life. That was my youth. That is their fear and their doubt. If they could fly with God as I have done they would not be afraid and they would want what I have. So what do they do? They want to kill me for what I have. That’s what the masses want. Death to the miracle of my life that is at one with God the world and my wife. Come, let me introduce you.”

We went up the dark narrow staircase of an old house where cats abound. His apartment was the entire top floor of this house, it was very dark but I was to find it spacious and comfortable, though quite littered with clothes, cigarette butts, and candy wrappers. I met Deenie in the dark kitchen where she was preparing tea. She had long, tousled red hair and very short bangs. She was dressed in a well worn burgundy flannel gown and combat boots. She displayed a crazily happy grin at all times to go along with her pleasant humor about life in general and their situation in particular. Here was a girl, three hundred years old, at least, who looked like a teenager. Deenie embraced her fate and was thankful for her living every day.

“Well, you’re looking like a stray wet kitten, young Mira. You must have some tea and chocolate. Good for the soul.”

“Oh, but I haven’t eaten anything for three weeks. I should be sick. Besides, I thought you only drank blood.”

“Certainly, that’s all we need. But chocolate is what I like next best. Honeyed tea washes it down with a sweetness. Divine sensation of sweet inspiration. pick one food to continually favor and your digestion system will adapt to only that. It’s eating a million different things that confuses your body so and makes it work so hard. One food, one flow of digestion. Of course, there are those who choose not to eat at all. You don’t need to, you know. I simply enjoy the taste.”

“Well now you’ve met me. In life I could survive on chocolate for days,” I said.

“My sweetie-pie,” said Brian. “I never met anyone to meet Deen’s sweet tooth. And it gives her the sweetest blood.”

“I don’t feel I can stomach much of anything now. I only want…”

“Blood,” from Brian. “She wants Dave’s blood, and must have it, too, or she’ll lose all sense and hope and go simply mad.

“Brian, stop,” from Deenie. “He’s only kidding, Mira. You’re not going to go mad, but you could suffer melancholia indefinitely. Well we just won’t let that happen. We’ve got loads of getting to know each other to do. I can tell Brian likes you. He never brings anyone home. I don’t often go out. Too much effort to get all dressed up for appearances and all you know? Dave, huh? How lovely. He is sweet. So ethereal, so Godly. We’ve had some lovely debates on creationism, spiritual questing, ghosts in the parallel universes and such. I do enjoy his company. Well, where is he?”

“He’s left me. I told him I didn’t want what he had to offer, I didn’t want his blood and his eternal life. I’m afraid I had the old fashioned notion that vampires were to be feared instead of loved. And if that was what he was, is what you are, oh, I don’t know! It’s all so confusing. You’ve been nothing but nice.”

“Well, you know, Mira, we don’t like to be called vampires. So demeaning really. I prefer immortals. Immortals of love. It sounds hokey, but you see, Brian is what keeps me alive, keeps me happy, amused, content. He gives me the desire to live forever with him. And so together we shall forever be, mated. It’s so wonderful you cannot even imagine.”

“The misconception most people have about vampires being bloodsucking villains is not entirely unheralded. When most mortals first reach their realization and are without a mate, they go into a frenzy searching, giving the kiss of death as they go. It’s a special person who’s ready for our way of life. Those who kill freely at first usually turn out to be the most gentle and kind of lovers, they had to kill all those people you see to find the one. After you’re mated the thirst decreases as you only thirst for each other.”

“What about Dave?” I asked Brian.

“He’s been searching for a long time, that one.”

“So, he’s killed a lot.”

“I would say so.”

“Oh, dear.”

“It’s the way, Mira. Don’t be frightened by it. And it’s basically over now. He’s found you. Why do you resist? I know it’s scary at first, but you could never love like this on a human level.”

“Brian you seem so sweet, now, and caring. When I first saw you tonight outside the bookstore I thought you were the epitome of hate.”

***