Dear Ghosts: Haunt Me, Please

I remember the days when I was scared of ghosts

After watching a marathon of poltergeist movies

About hauntings in strange homes

My juvenile friends and I couldn't get to sleep

And we'd squeal at every creak creak

On the floor board

I'd sleep with a night light on

The one with Winnie the Pooh reading a story to Piglet

Yet I'd still lose sleep

I was so scared of the ghosts that were out to get me

Now I want the ghosts to get me

I don't even understand what I was scared of

I want ghosts to haunt my house

I want ghosts to transcend their world and show their white faces

Hell, I want poltergeists to mess my whole room up

Because, see, if ghosts don't exist

Then why should anything invisible exist, too?

What you see is what you know

But I don't see love, so how do I know it's there?

What if love is just a ghost?

What if "love" is what we label that chemical reaction in our brains that sparks fondness?

And if ghosts don't exist, do spirits exist? Souls?

If they don't, what's the point of it all?

Then life is just a soccer match with no goal posts

And your decisions are empty goals

And the soccer field is endless

And there really is no goal

If ghosts don't exist, then it's proof that this is it

It affirms the mundanity and terror

Of a worldly existence

All the people in the world

Are just a cycle of slaves to the earth

So you see, ghosts have to exist

For there to be love, spirits, for life to make sense

So please, ghosts of the other world, engage in paranormal activity

Write out threatening messages on my Ouija board

Pass through me 'til I'm chilly, so that I feel you

Do anything to make me believe in what isn't real

Comments

Women: Living Contradictions

What does society want? For women to achieve impossible standards (and, by the way, it is NOT possible to achieve something that is impossible). Society wants us to be living contradictions...cabbage heads on stilts... airhead rocket scientists. Society wants us to be things that don't even exist in fiction, but only in the glossy pages of a Cosmopolitan magazine (look at me! I'm so skinny! So happy! Sexy all the time!). As I heard said many times before, "even Victoria's Secret models don't look like Victoria's Secret models." The way the proportions are warped, each pimple bleached, each hair trimmed down to pre-pubescence, toes and fingers without a scar, and the face angelic and so happy... it makes me sick. It makes me sick because of the contradictions, because women are expected to: Be sexy but not slutty Be innocent but not prude Be virgins but also fantastic lovers Be independent but submissive Be good mothers but maintain careers Be...

The Flood

Sometimes I feel like My insides are flooding Threatening to spill out And clog glutters in the street With all my unsatisfied ambition Sometimes I want to drown In a soup of grey water To just forget it all And become one with the tunnels, Streets, and people of the city Their shoes tracking dirt From one train station to the next Let the rain water drain it all Cleanse it all The grief and the dissatisfaction The mundanity and the boredom Of the occassional commute Let the flood take me Take us To a train station that hasn't been built yet On tracks that don't yet exist Far, far away In the meadows Where the soil can finally soak up All the grey unwanted rain

Happiness is Pink Jellybeans

Happiness is jumping in a pool of pink jellybeans Feeling the cool candy on my skin Happiness is enjoying the pleasures of life Without worrying about confessing my sins Whoever said that we are gluttons For biting juicy pears on the beach Must never have felt the sand in their toes They must have placed their own soul out of reach And what about greed? It's not all that bad To bury a pile of chestnuts for the spring All animals do it, so why shouldn't we? If it's greedy to love yourself, let it be Lust is the one that makes pastors blush Yet it's one of the greatest joys in the body A kiss and a dance, laughter and romance Why did we ever label this happiness as naughty? Have you ever seen a cat sad when it naps? It is okay to sometimes be lazy The body needs rest as does the mind Or the world will set fire from the crazy If happiness is a sin, then let me smile in hell Looking up at the do-gooders above For to live is to err, to cry, and to sing Happiness is pink jell...

Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

Search This Blog