Embers remember the coach light
And there, a pale December sun
Beckons the black birds to rise
To carry a crown to the new winter king
A pin drop calls his name
The lands are that quiet
The restless spirits that roam the hills and valleys
Take cautious steps from the other side
Wishing wells glow to light their way
Toward another endless and wandering day
It’s quiet in the house, save for the tea kettle steam engine puffing on the stovetop. The whistle now pierces the air, and she goes to move it away. She sighs, readies her tea cup, and pours in the hot water. As it steeps on a cold Halloween morning, she moves the window curtain aside and gazes out into the backyard. There a figure stands, still as stone, red eyes glowing in the head. The woman quickly moves the curtains back, presses a hand to her heart, and wonders. Surely it is merely an illusion, she thinks. How could there be somewhere there? She was out in the deep country in a lone house surrounded by trees and space to breathe. If I just move the curtain aside again, he’ll be gone, she thinks.
Once more, she moves the curtain aside and peers out. There the figure stands, the red eyes even closer now. She quickly moves the curtain back and dashes to the front door. She presses her body against it, checks the lock, and looks through the peephole. There, a red eye looks back at her. “Go away!” she screams as she backs away from the door. Then there comes the pounding. So hard that the door rattles. The woman screams again and darts upstairs. She moves to the wall phone in the hall, picks up the receiver, and discovers the line is dead. Downstairs, the pounding continues. She returns the receiver to its cradle and the phone suddenly rings. She picks it up with a trembling hand. “Hello,” she says in a whimper. “Let me in,” the voice on the other end hisses. “Or you’ll be sorry.”
Then she hears the front door downstairs shatter and crumble. The thing out there has kicked it in. A muffled voice calls out, “Anybody home!?” Then there’s a laugh, a laugh like no other she has ever heard. She slips to the floor, so scared and panicked she can no longer move. Then she sees the figure loping its way up the stairs. He’s holding an axe. The red eyes are on fire. The mask surrounding them is hideous. The figure reaches the top of the stairs and the spot where the woman is hunched against the wall and crying. He holds the axe high above his head and lets out a horrifying scream of impending violence and death. Then as the terrified woman whimpers and moans there on the floor, the figure lowers the axe and removes the mask. He works to loosen the mechanical eyes. He looks down at her and grins, “Hey honey, Happy Halloween.”
It’s Christmas Eve in a town the color of burgundy and pine
Cold stars and tattered clouds float within the inky-bruised canopy
Store windows glow yellow, the brick of the small buildings are the color of slightly burnt toast
People shuffle along the walks frosted with fresh snow
They peek into the shop portals and feel awe in their guts
There’s the smell of wood smoke in the air
Snow slowly falls and the world is night white
A glow-worm bomb cascades from the moon
Refrigeration hums in the sundry shop
Eyes spin in the fruit heads that lie there
The faithful gather at the church on the corner
A white rigid lance pointing to the heavens
Mistletoe muffins are passed around with glorified giggles
Soon everyone is kissing
And God draws the shades
Bible-like fornication ensues on the pews
The angels and the Earth women
Erich von Däniken bursts through the door and exclaims:
“I knew it! I was right.”
Homes are cold on Christmas morning
The rising sun begins to crackle the ice
A boy and a girl scamper down the stairs to see what Mr. Claus has brought them
But in his stead there are creatures by the lighted tree
The aliens are busy stacking presents wrapped in silver and gold
Their large eyes blossom and their heads turn
The girl screams, the boy runs back upstairs
One of the visitors holds out a cockle squash
The girl’s mind suddenly changes
She goes to the aliens and takes the oddly shaped gourd
She holds it in front of her face, and she wonders
As she sees space within it
Floating stars, zooming orbs, spinning planets
Is this another mind?
Or a diamond mine?
The aliens suddenly retreat through the walls
The fireplace lights up on its own
The girl reaches up and puts the cockle squash on the mantel
She steps back, cocks her head to one side and looks at it
Christmas music on the hi-fi warbles and then comes to full life
The parents and the boy come rumbling down the steps
“What happened down here!?” the father wants to know
The girl turns to look at them
“Hello, my P and M. We had visitors from Christmas space… And they gifted us with a cockle squash.”
She points to the mantel
And everyone claps and smiles
“I’ll get us some egg nog,” the mother says, and she rushes off to the kitchen
The father stands with his children
One on each side
And they worship the gourd with their eyes
“There is something so odd and mystical about it,” the father says
The girl looks up and asks: “After Christmas, do you think I can keep it? I think I’d like to sleep with it.”
The boy laughs out loud. “Only a weirdo would sleep with a cockle squash.”
“Shut up, Brian!” the girl snaps
“Stop it. Both of you,” the father demands
The mother returns to the room holding a tray
“Let’s sit down and sip this egg nog faithfully,” she says. “And then we’ll get ready for church.”
“We don’t need church,” the girl says. “We have the gourd.”
“How dare you speak of such a thing!” the mother scolds
She reaches out a hand and slaps the girl across the face
The girl winces and begins to cry
“Now listen here, Mabel. There is absolutely no need for that! It’s Christmas for Christ’s sake,” the father berates…
And the aliens watch the drama unfold in the household with the cockle squash. They can view everything through it… the screams, the taunts, the disappointed reactions to Christmas gifts, the lack of true joy in Amorika. For they are the angels watching. Not from clouds, but ships.
When everything is fake like snakes
And the lemons are made of wood
And the faces are made of mud and evil
I sit upon the throne of mundane jewels
And wonder what the cable car smells like
On the edge of an ice cliff I stand
Look out over white Russia while drinking a white Russian
Memories of a hip Denver restaurant
Gold urinals
Big boss conversations about disease
500 years later now
The day is grainy gray, and the rain is coming
Crisp autumn apples covered in cold dew
Out in the trees the leaves have lost their green
A comatose scarecrow hangs on a pole
To ward off the spirits of another dimension
Halloween goblins wait in caves
Prepare their sacks to steal the people
Fans whir in a cold, red room
Another day upon us all
The weight builds
The crush comes
Throw it off your back and breathe
A coffee clown sits in a silver diner
He looks out the window and watches the rain
He thinks about the maddening world and the chaos and the pain
His white face and green mouth are showing sadness
Maybe I should show up at work naked, he thinks. That will shake things up, maybe knock some sense into somebody.
He works at the permanent circus
On the boulevard by the bay
I’ll just stroll in wearing only my make up. People will probably scream, but I don’t care. I’ll give them something to scream about. Someone will probably rush at me with a fire-proof blanket because I’d be so hot. They’d smother my nakedness, blot it out, curse the shame.
The waitress comes by the table by the window where it’s raining outside and refills his coffee.
“I didn’t know clowns like coffee so much,” she says with a smile.
He looks up at her and sarcastically grins. “What do you think clowns drink? Fruit punch?”
“Something like that.”
“Hey, let me ask you something. Do you ever desire to show up at work completely naked?”
“Sir?”
“Do you ever want to come to work completely naked… Maybe wearing only your little waitress apron you got on.”
“Oh, heaven’s no. What kind of question is that.”
“It’s a question too many people are afraid to ask. There is far too much censorship of the mind in this world. I myself would like to show up at work naked, except for my makeup and wig, of course.”
“Why would you do that?” the waitress asks.
“Because nobody ever does. Because I want to rattle people. Because I want to show off my bits and pieces. I want to produce some mental voltage to shock people awake. Everyone is so dead inside.”
“Well, that all sounds a bit screwy to me,” the waitress says. “I would never do anything like that. I think you might be a bit mental.”
“So you believe boldness is a deficiency?”
“No… It’s just, people don’t do such strange things as coming to work naked. You’d probably get fired.”
The clown sips at his coffee and turns back to looking out the window. He scoffs at the world. “I suppose you’re right. I need this clown job or else I’ll starve and die. Isn’t that something? Chasing green paper in order to survive and to get the green paper you have to be a slave to this horrible social system we have. And then they never give you enough green paper so you’re always struggling just to get by. It’s all planned out. It’s rigged to where the worker will always be trapped working until they die. It’s so sad really. You’d think the human race would be so much more useful. But no, there is no end to this I suppose. We’ll keep on breeding and bring more and more desperate souls into the world. Have you ever noticed how children are so much different than adults? Then society takes a hold and molds them into corporate slaves. That’s why school starts so early. They’re already conditioning them to sell their time away for nearly nothing, for meaningless things.”
“Maybe you should pray about it.”
The clown laughs out loud and other patrons begin to stare. “Yes, yes. I’ll use telepathy aimed at a big white man in the clouds who never grants wishes. Do you really think a loving god would allow so much suffering and turmoil?”
“You shouldn’t talk like that,” the waitress sternly says. “That’s blasphemy.”
“Is it? You know what I believe? I believe the angels and the gods are all aliens from other planets. Our ancient ancestors were so shocked by their advanced technology that we dubbed them higher powers.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” the waitress protests. “I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to work.”
“Of course, you do. We all do. That’s all we are in the end. Worker bees.”
The clown walks out of the house completely naked and gets into his car. He drives to the permanent circus on the outside of town. He parks, gets out, and walks toward the entrance of the circus. He steps into the tent and thrusts his arms into the air. He moves to the center ring and completely exposes himself to the stunned crowd. Suddenly someone stands up and starts clapping. It’s the waitress from the diner and the clown is shocked to see her. More people stand up and start clapping. More and more. Then the entire crowd breaks into a raucous cheering. And it’s at that point that something very strange happens. The entire audience begins to shed its clothing until everyone under the big top is completely naked and bouncing with enthusiasm.
The clown looks around at what he has done, and he is happy for it. He grins with joy. I’ve sparked a little rebellion here today, he thinks. A mighty and naked rebellion.
A gunshot suddenly goes off, and the police begin to stream into the tent. Someone barks over a megaphone, “Put your clothes back on! Put your clothes back on! Follow our orders or you will be detained and shipped off to a horrible prison in a foreign land. You should all be ashamed for your indecency!” The clown makes his way to the back of the tent and another exit, and he begins to run. He keeps running and the breeze feels good against his naked body. He soon finds himself in a field of tall yellow grass and stops to catch his breath. That’s when he sees the ship descend and the angelic beings come and surround him. They are gentle and kind. They assure him no harm will come to him. Then they lift him up. Up into the ship. He washes away his makeup and removes the clown wig. He is allowed to remain naked, and he finally feels truly free. And that’s when all of life completely changes for him as he is taken to another planet to live out all his final days in comfort and peace and void of all chaos and hate and greed.
CEREAL AFTER SEX 