The Title Page

RETURN by ?

Note: as said, this is not a poem, more like a title page for something. The name of the author has been thoroughly and violently scratched out. Written above the title: "Campbell's MONOMYTH! I) Departure II) Initiation! III) Return".

Poem 18

A good friend passed away today

Quite unexpectedly

A bit of a bad luck there

But these things happen

It was nobody’s fault really

He was taken by

A dark presence

We keep his things in a shoebox

On our mantelpiece

NOTE: "dark presence" has been underlined. Written next to the poem: "E didn't find this funny".

Poem 17

I was surprised to find

That such revulsion could shine

In someone’s eyes. “How I hate your kind,”

He said, as we sat down to dine

On him

Poem 16

Inside this shoebox we killed for

There is

We don’t know what

Neat stacks of hundred dollar bills

Jewels like stars

The dreams of those who’ve slept in this town

The dream of this town (when we open it, the dreamer will wake, and we, all part of his dream, will be gone)

Our wishes come true

The power to punch a hole into the universe

Inside this shoebox we killed for

There is

A coffee thermos

A flashlight

A box of ammo

Two pages of poems

Countless wor(l)ds

Inside this shoebox we killed for

There is

No cat, poisoned or otherwise, dead or living, undead, un-cat

Baleful spirits

All the evils of the world

No hope

Nothing

Darkness

NOTE: lines "A coffee thermos / A flashlight / A box of ammo / Two pages of poems, all crossed out. Written below the poem: "E can't see it. He's view is too narrow, limited. It's not a lake, it's an ocean, darkness before the act of creation, before the Big Bang, darkness upon the face of the deep, upon the face of the waters, before light, before the primeval atom, before the word, before THE POEM. I can be a creator, the creator. It has happened before, and it will happen again, many times."

Poem 15

More than anything

His dearest wish

He wanted to go from there

To leave

But he could not change his heritage

The blood in his veins was ink

And the crown was too tall

To pass through the door

He was doomed to remain

A king forevermore

Poem 14

Tightrope walking

Would you choose

A safety net

That traps you

And kills the thrill

Thin weave of wires

Slices your flesh

I must prefer

The dark air in-between

Soft shadows

Hug you gently

All the way to the ground

NOTE: written below the poem is a quote: "Which are you drinking? The water or the wave?" and the name of the author: "John Fowles". 

Poem 13

I came looking for my princess

Instead I found a witch wearing her face

No one in the family

Had noticed the change

She said:

“She becomes me.”

Through all the wicked things she did

To me, her beauty kept me in a daze

I stared at her adoringly and forgot how she used to be

As she tortured me for days and days

She said:
”She becomes me.”

Isn’t it strange that with every wound

She’s caused her beauty in the mirror fades

I hear she’s already looking for another pretty girl

To put on in the old one’s place

She said:

“She becomes me.”

We’re both so thin

We wear our skeletons on the outside

She becomes me

NOTE: written below the poem: "B offended, thought this was about her, of course it's not".

More Shoebox Poems

There were six new poems in the shoebox, as well as something else, not a poem, a title page, I suppose, it seems to come from a different batch. All the pages seem old, as if they've gotten wet at some point. In any case, here are the photos:

I'll transcribe the poems in an update soon, just in case the photos are not clear enough.

Inside the Shoebox

When I found the shoebox again, there were more poems inside, and a battered, old device: a switch of some kind. I actually had to go and ask about it in the local hardware store to be sure what it was. It’s an old light switch. When you flick it, there’s a solid, satisfying click. When I flicked it the first time after finding it, all the lights in the house went out. I swear I’m not making this up. It turned out to be the whole neighborhood actually, and the real reason for the power out turned out to be the thunderstorm rumbling above. But talk about a coincidence of a lifetime! I’ve flicked the switch many times after that and nothing strange has happened. 

I can't explain where this new stuff came from. Someone broke into my house and put it there? That makes no sense.

Houseguests

Soon after my last update, someone contacted me. They had found me through this blog. They said that they know a lot about what’s been going on, about the origin of the shoebox’s contents, and that this kind of a thing had happened before, elsewhere. They promised to tell me more, on the condition that I’d stop updating the blog. They said that this whole thing should be kept secret and hinted that it could be dangerous, that there are people out there who think that the contents of the shoebox can be very valuable and would be willing to commit crimes to get hold of them. In a way it felt a lot like my nightmare about the agent who came asking about the shoebox. Of course this was totally different in many ways, but still, it reminded me of that, like the dream had come true somehow.

I promised to think about what they’d told me. And I have. And that’s the reason why there have been no updates for a while. They were friendly enough, but the more I’ve thought about it, the more the whole thing felt like a threat. And that really pisses me off. It’s a free country, and I can write about anything I want in my own blog. And the shoebox and everything in it came with the house, and thus it’s mine.

I’ve decided to keep updating the blog for now.

Haunted House?

I’m back and I’m okay. Well, not okay, but alive. They kept me in the hospital overnight for observation. And then I spent a couple days at my parents’ house.

On the night of my previous post (sorry if it frightened anyone) I had trouble going to bed, I was on my laptop, listening to music. The TV was on in the living room, I wasn’t really watching it, but I was mildly amused by the fact that the episode in the crappy horror show that was on was about a girl who buys a haunted house and gets into trouble. It was a rerun of the Twilight Zone or something. It got ridiculous when the corny narrator started saying things like: “She thought she had bought an ordinary house in an ordinary town, but nothing could be more out of the ordinary than this house…”. I actually laughed out aloud and walked to the living room to see. It was like someone was playing a practical joke on me. But then I immediately saw the men outside my window, dark shadowy silhouettes, and the power went out and it was dark and I could hear a window breaking in another room. I ran back to the kitchen where my laptop was, I grabbed it, rushed into the closet, shutting the door behind me. I sat on the floor and dialed 911. I could hear sounds of them breaking in, and insane shouts and laughter. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I could hear them getting closer. I stopped talking to the phone so they wouldn’t hear me. I wrote the blog post, I don’t know what I was thinking. Then they were behind the door, and I got up, trying to keep it closed. It flew open violently and I fell and hit my head. The last thing I saw in the glow of the laptop was the shoebox. It was sitting on the shelf. There was no way I could not have seen it before if it had been there since it went missing. Then all went black. I woke up in the hospital with a mild concussion. The police said that there were no signs of disturbance or break-in, other than what they themselves caused when they came in to check and found me. I don’t know what to think. I’ve been very stressed at work, but I'm not going crazy and I didn't just imagine it all. It really happened.

One thing is certain: this is my house, and I won’t be frightened away by ghosts or shadows. This is my house and I will fight for it if that’s what it takes. So there.

I just checked. The shoebox is there on the shelf in the closet. There is stuff inside that wasn’t there before.       

Called 911. Men outside shadows darkcominghelpmoreligh

No Light, No Light

I’ve been very busy at work and too exhausted to post here for a while (apart for the nightmare the other night, which I had to get off my chest immediately, and it still gives me the creeps). On a more positive note, the house is slowly starting to look really good and I’ve been living here for a while (here’s a photo of my fireplace). 

I got the yard lights, now I only need to get them installed.

To be honest, I’m playing for time here, writing this, not looking forward to going to bed. I was listening to the beautiful & brilliant Florence + the Machine earlier and the song “No Light, No Light” made me think about the nightmare again.

Shoebox Dream 2

I had another dream last night, and when I woke up, a real scare.

In the dream I was visiting the previous owner of my house at the nursing home, only in the dream the owner wasn’t a sweet old lady, he was a man, and he wasn’t old, he was a young man with a dark hair – very good looking in fact. I remember that he was wearing a funny jacket with old-fashioned elbow patches. I was there to find out about the shoebox, but he was very agitated and didn’t listen to me. The place was brightly lit, it was sunny outside, but he was still very anxious and wanted me to turn all the lights on. He kept going on about the place being too dark. I remember being certain that all the lights were on already, but that didn’t calm him down. In the end he was screaming for me to turn the lights on. I was also starting to freak out, starting to think that something horrible was coming to take us away, and that’s when I woke up. I was really thirsty, I got up from bed and went to get a glass of water. In the hallway, coming back, I suddenly saw a dark silhouette of a man outside the window. I must have screamed aloud. My heart stopped for a moment. I dropped the glass (luckily it didn’t break, it’s one of my favorites). I was really frightened. I rushed through the house, turning on all the lights. My first impulse was to dial 911, but after a moment that felt silly. I told myself that I must have imagined the whole thing, seen my own reflection in the window. Of course, with all the lights on inside, I couldn’t see anything outside anymore. I ended up calling a friend of mine, Joss, who lives nearby, waking him up. He was kind enough to come over and check the place. Bless him. Joss’s a real angel. There was no sign of anyone outside. 

Today I’m definitely going buy some yard lights, I’ve been meaning to do that for some time already.

Poem 12

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Kept from sleep again last night

By the sound of chimes

I sway

So far below heaven

So high above hell

Frost creeps up

The trunk of my spine

All is blackness through these holes

Of my eyes

Just the wind in my skull

And the wings of her crows

They perch on the gallows

They have pecked me clean

And made a chime from

My bones

NOTE: Also written on the page: “B’s comment: a diver, not a hanged man, think about it!!!”

Poem 11

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

In this temple of shadow and mist

There's a window

In the floor and

A door in the ceiling

There is no knowing

Am I standing still

Or running or kneeling

NOTE: the two last lines have been scratched out (can’t make out what it originally said) and the lines of the poem have been written next to them.

Poem 10

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

From bloom to gloom

Our love like fire

Consumed

We burned our bridges

Furniture, clothes

Hair, flesh and bones

All too soon

We ran out of things

To burn

But while it blossomed

Our love

Was like a flower

NOTE: Also written on the page: “B. This is us. T.” and a name “Barbara” (I’m guessing, can’t quite make it out, different handwriting) next to a heart.

Poem 9

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Until that time comes around again
The shadow falls on this town again
It’s barely evening
But the shadow falls on me again

No one will miss us
Our faces inked black
They’ll sell our things at the flea market
They’ll never call us back

So she left with them
They’ll wine her and dine her
We huddle naked in this alley
Nothing’s for sure

Fir needles tickle
We bathe in rain water
All the way to the ocean
The memory of the slaughter

Until that time comes around again
The shadow falls on this town again
It’s barely evening
But the shadow falls on me again

When I’m awake I’m barely alive
When I sleep I have two hearts
Your heart and mine
Your two hearts and mine

Poem 8

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

I wish it would shatter

Like glass under my heels

Just like a sheet of ice

When I close my eyes

That’s how the mirror feels

Oh mercy

Thousands have gone missing

Beyond the labyrinth of me

When you’re lost

You’re lost in your own company

NOTE: There’s another poem on the page as well: “In this hall of mirrors / built by liars / I’m a pale reflection of myself – Pool.” There are also a couple of drawings, a face of a man, some fir trees by the water (maybe?), and a strange face with a long nose and round black eyes.

Poem 7

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Mist like death

Mist like a lover’s breath

Rolls so soft and cold and wet

Memories met for the first time

Secrets whispered

To find a long lost doorway home

Or be led to parts unknown

And forever disappear beyond this veil

In her dreams to prevail

Poem 6

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Your eyes were so cold

When you watched me go under

You were sitting in the boat

I floated down

To the darkness like a cloud

From a shark bite

I breathe out

My life with you

The currents wash me away

I let the currents

Wash me away

Poem 5

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

My mother told me to no avail
If you play with shadows
You grow sickly and pale
And forget all the wonders
The sun can unveil
Beyond the shadow you settle for
there is a miracle
Illuminated

NOTE: the three last lines have been underlined and there a note saying “E’s favorite line, a long talk with him about the meaning, no changes but keep in mind for another time.”

Poem 4

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Frightened

Of the shadows of the deep

He challenged me

To a duel

I indulged him

For he did not know

That beyond the lake

He called home

Lies a deeper darker

Ocean green

Where waves are

Both wilder

And more serene

To its ports I have been

To its ports I have been

NOTE: “rewrite?” has been written next to the first stanza.

Poem 3

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

I go underground
Follow me underground
Everyone else has gone there
Down to the ground
I’ll take you underground

They chased a mystery
They are a mystery to me
And you’ll think that of me
When I tell you my tale

What we bring with us
Sorry secrets and awkward lies
Wet matches
A yarning for overcast skies
Everything else down here

Has been stolen so many times
Everyone who walks down these steps dies

I go underground
Follow me underground
Everyone else has gone there
Down to the ground
I’ll take you underground

Poem 2

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Divorce me from all that’s sane

Screaming, mute darkness

Descend on this frail frame

I drown in fathomless black space

Light never scratched

The depths of this domain

I see not; yet nothing could be worse

Than the shades

My mind calls herein

Alone at my own wake

The unraveling of reason’s skein

NOTE: It says “THE DARK PLACE” below the poem, and there’s a line from William Blake’s Auguries of Innocence “Some are born to endless night.”

Poem 1

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

We pillage and whore

Hauling our loot

We swagger down alleys

We don’t say please

The town is burning

We set it in flame

We are the fire

That’s gone out in your eyes

We are the maggots gnawing your heels

We are the rain trickling down

From the hole in your ceiling

We are the ants inside your walls

And under the boards of your floor

We are eating your house

We are the sharp rocks under your knees

In front of the altar

Where you are kneeling

We have no morals

No guilt, no qualms

We don’t give a damn

The sewers are clogged

Filled with waste

The water is rising

We’ll make a ship out of

Your naïve, broken dreams

And lay siege to your sanctuaries

We are a ravenous horde of rats

We are the fangs and we are the beast

There will be no more admiring gazes

No more courtesies

No more gardens in spring

We are the rising waste

And you will be a drowned king

NOTE: The first stanza has been crossed out, and the sheet had been torn up.

Shoebox Poems

I’ve been really busy and stressed at work lately, but in spite of that the shoebox and its contents are never far from my thoughts. You might say that I’m getting a bit obsessed about them. I’ve been trying to find out who the poet is, or the couple in the photos, but no luck. I asked the daughter of the previous owner about it (her mother is in a nursing home and suffers from advanced Alzheimer’s disease, so she wouldn’t be able to help me). She was certain that no one in her family was a poet, and she doubted that the people in the photos were anyone from her family. She told me that her mom liked to buy stuff from yard sales, and her guess was that the shoebox was something her mom had picked up from one of those.

I’ve tried to find the shoebox after it went missing, but I can’t find it. I’m so glad I took photos of the poems before I lost them. Here they are: 

Under the House

A couple of guys came to do some plumbing work on Friday. They had to get under the house to do that, and I discovered that there was a trapdoor that led to the crawl space underneath. It had been screwed shut, and had to be opened. After they were done, I decided to go down there to explore. Armed with a flashlight and my iPhone for shots, I squeezed myself through the trapdoor. It was cramped and claustrophobic (I’m amazed that the workmen were able to do any work there, I’m tiny compared to them).  I was mentally prepared for rats and dead cats or even something worse, but there was nothing out of the ordinary down there. Nothing out of the ordinary in the town of Ordinary (pun intended). Here are the photos:

 

Shoebox Dream

OK, I’m freaking out just a bit here. I saw a really bizarre nightmare last night. I know this is supposed to be a blog about my new house, but the dream is related to that, and on the other hand, look at the name of the blog. This isn’t what I meant when I came up with the name, but now it feels strangely appropriate, don’t you think?

In the dream, I heard the doorbell ring and went to open the door. There was a man there. He said he was a federal agent. He showed me his badge and all, just like the FBI agents do in the movies. Here comes the scary part: there was something wrong with his face; it was leaking inky smoke so that I couldn’t see what he looked like. When I woke up I realized that this image totally came from the ink-covered faces in the photos, of course (see the previous post). The man asked me about the shoebox. He said that it contains top-secret information and that I need to give it to him. I got scared that he’ll put me in jail and went to get the shoebox, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I searched the whole house but it was nowhere. Then I went to the bathroom to look for it, and saw myself in the mirror: my face was covered with inky smoke as well! And that’s when I woke up. When I think back about the dream, it didn’t say “FBI” on his badge; it said “AWE”.

This is the weirdest thing of all: Now I can’t find the shoebox anywhere. I have looked everywhere I can think of. I’m sure that it will turn up somewhere, there is so much junk lying around in the house at the moment, but kind of creepy in any case. I didn’t get around to scanning the poems yet, but I did take photos of them, luckily.