Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Giving up on a book
Monday, November 22, 2010
New poem
If the war is all you have
It was typical Wednesday business
down at the triage tent
they bled me ‘til I was stupid
then I ran for president
but I ended up a shepard
to a restless ewe and calf,
just another familiar dead end
if the war is all you have.
It was out there on the outskirts
of this hateful little town
they would roll the dice to decide
if I was a devil or a clown,
they’d ask me loaded questions,
I replied in the speech of bone
just another language picked up
if the war is all you’ve known.
I was the Pope of urban legends
more Vati-can’t than
all my enemies fit in one mirror
and when they said “stand still”, I ran
now all the guilty mascots
are driven off in a Mercedes-Benz
just driving on forever
if the war will have no end.
Brian Moreau
Saturday, October 2, 2010
A horror story I wrote
The Night Life
The new people moved into the old Bilkins house on Monday. Thursday night they threw their first party.
Adrian Draly noticed the noises coming from down the street at around
Must be a housewarming party, thought
He finished a few minutes before nine and decided to spend the next hour before bed watching a DVD of a recent British comedy a friend at work had given him. While he was watching it, he was dimly aware of the pulsing drumbeat in the background. At one point, the loud squeal of the woman he had heard earlier came through the open window of his bedroom and startled him. At twelve minutes after ten, he turned off the DVD and got ready for bed, hoping the party would wind up soon.
Three sleepless hours later, it still hadn’t.
Not knowing what else to do,
“Hey Hugo, this Adrian Draly out on
“Sure, I’ll go talk to them. The old Bilkins place, huh? All us kids in town were scared shitless of that place growing up.”
“Yeah well, I didn’t grow up around here, I moved here twelve years ago, still a newbie to a lot of people around here.”
Officer Timmons laughed. “Yeah, that’s pretty true. You get yourself some sleep
There was another party the next night.
It was a Friday night and
At
Saturday night came and with it another party.
“Oh come on! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”,
“Fuck you, you whore,” he muttered under his breath.
At
“Hugo, it’s
Timmons was quiet for a few moments. “Uh, yeah…about that. I never made it out there.”
“Why the hell not?”
“You heard about the 7-11 that got held up that night? I was on my way out there when the call came in. All officers on duty had to respond. By the time everything was wrapped up it was almost
“Well could you please make it out there tonight and make them cut out the shit?”
“
“Hugo…I can’t have been the only person on this street to have complained about the noise.”
“Well, let me check…” There came the sound of rustling papers. This lasted for nearly a minute and a half. “No, there have been no other complaints from anyone on
“That can’t be!”
“Can’t but is buddy. So what’cha gonna do?”
“Good man! Now try to get some sleep.”
Timmons hung up, leaving
Sunday night was blissfully quiet, as were the next three nights.
By the middle of the week,
Well, if the assholes hadn’t wasted their time on those parties they would have a lot more accomplished by now
At the store, he bought a quart of milk, some orange American cheese and a package of hot dogs. Still feeling happy, he began the walk home. As he passed by the Bilkins house again, he saw there was a woman standing on the porch.
She was at once the most beautiful and most repellant woman he had ever seen. She seemed to be in her mid twenties but somehow
Without realizing it, he began to walk towards the porch, towards her. She moved towards him as well and as she moved out into the bright sunlight, he noticed just how sheer the fabric of her dress was. He could see the dark aureole of her breasts and his eyes strayed down her body…yes, he could faintly see the dark triangle of her loins.
They stood like this for several moments. Then
“Uh..hello there! I’m
She didn’t answer. Just looked at him with those huge eyes, her smile becoming ever more sinister.
“You sure had a lot of parties here last week! Hope you all had fun! How many of you moved in here? I never saw a moving truck, just one day the ‘For Sale’ sign was, poof! Gone!”
She still didn’t answer. Instead, she began to slowly open her mouth…then she snapped it shut. She did it again. And again. And again.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Her mouth opened. Snapped shut. Opened. Snapped shut.
That night around eight, the drumming began again.
“That fucking crazy bitch!”
I’m going to go down there and make them stop! he thought in a red haze. If I have to wipe that disgusting smile off that little whores face and slap around any other freaks there, so be it!
He marched down the street, each step seeming to make the drumming louder. The old Bilkins house was once again all lit up. Every single window had a shade drawn down.
“Hey assholes! Is this a private party or can anyone come on in? You love to share the fucking noise though, don’t you?”
He gave the door another savage punch. It swung open. It was also at that moment the drumming stopped. Having taken things this far, he decided to go on in. Before he crossed the threshold, he turned and looked back up his street. Every other house besides his and the Bilkins place was dark. He then realized he hadn’t seen or heard any of his other neighbors in several days. Possibly longer. A shiver passed through him and he stepped inside.
The inside was a mess. Absolutely no work had done been on the inside either. The floor was rotted in several spots. There was no furniture anywhere. The smell of mildew was the strongest he had ever encountered in his life; he had to concentrate to keep from coughing. The new silence was very unnerving.
He passed by an open door. Something made him stop and look.
It had been a large, walk-in closet. It was totally empty, no old clothes, no hangers, not even the rods for the hangers. A single bulb hung bare on a cord that swung on a faint breeze. He noticed there was an extension cord running into the closet. He walked inside.
There was a large hole in the floor of the small room. Here, the floorboards had not rotted away but violently smashed to expose the ground beneath the house.
There was another hole, in the ground.
As if in a dream,
There was something inside
He stood, perhaps for many minutes, maybe for several hours, gazing down into that pit. At some point, he became aware that someone was behind him. He turned.
She stood there before him, totally nude. His eyes drank in the beautiful white and brown of her perfect breasts, the lovely dark tangle of her crotch. Again, he noticed that nearly impossible smoothness of her skin that spoke of sharks gliding in the moonlight reefs, of the artificial crying out to be human.
On silent feet, she walked up to him. She gazed into his eyes and he knew he had been born to love this succubus, that she had crawled up the side of that pit behind them only for him. She reached up and took his face in her hands. She pulled him down and kissed him with all the passion of Hell. After several long moments, she broke off the kiss, looked at him with that smile that was full of dark hints.
Suddenly, her embrace became a shove.
As
5/31/09-6/01/09 Brian Moreau
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Forgotten great songs part two
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
New poem
1.
The morning fog
seperated the boardwalk
from the sea.
Only winos wanted to be on
the beach that early,
you could see them as shadows
pacing on the sand,
pretending to have concerns
and burdens greater than
the paper bag becoming too light.
2.
Children are at home in crowds,
a chance to be a mustang in a stampede,
a stone in an avalanche.
Supertramp blared from every passing car,
every open shop door,
the sun burned away the fog
and sang along to the hits.
3.
Sharks and stingrays
in a green lit tank,
small crocodile on a mossy log,
an aquarium of the defeated.
Next door,
a battered paperback of Spiderman comics hung from a bookrack just beyond my reach.
I couldn't dare to ask for it.
4.
At 8 years old,
I couldn't legally gamble,
even though I'd been taught my whole life what was at stake.
I had years,
decades even,
to learn I was in no postion to negotiate,
that we live entire lives
in the shadow of risk,
hoping our faces give nothing away,
that we hope we remain on the boardwalk and the people in the fog get taken by the sun.
9/1/10
Brian Moreau
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Recent poems
Quicksilver, Slowsilver, Stillsilver
(for D)
dreaming of your molten life,
your hot, mirrored heart.
Silver moonlight at dawn-
I’ll be sorry if I unblock (---)”s profile.
I just don’t want to know,
I’ll be sorry.
Where do we go…
no one can predict our motion,
our entanglements
that takes us from one end of the universe
to the other,
yet 3000 miles
is unbearably long
to your embrace.
Bolides.
All night,
green fire and loud booms
influence dreams.
A war in heaven,
you as Helen of Troy
sending angels into glorious battle.
Brian Moreau
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heat Wave '10
The sun is lighting the world
into a Kurosawa film,
everywhere,
the bright orange corpse of grass.
The rain stays away out of shame.
One by one,
we find ourselves breaking down,
confessing,
hot kitchens and bedrooms
become silent and guilty.
The A/C drones the longest catechism
in history,
the warm breezes asking:
"If the rain won't forgive you,
how can a lover?
Or a heart that's grown to hate you?"
Brian Moreau
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yellow moon behind clouds, October 1978
I wish you could have seen it love.
Mom and I were shopping in
She bought me a Battlestar Galactica T-shirtand then burned rubber along the back roads to get me in bed an hour past bedtime.
That night, I dreamed I lived in a kingdom ruled by fellow children.
All we ever ate was spicy pasta and meatballs.
Then in my dream I was back on that lonely road
my Mom drove to get me home.
I saw a street light in the distance and it broke my heart.
I wanted that beautiful light to never go out,
shine on me always.
I know dreams should remain private
but sometimes they are the only things we can share,
that little bit of rope we throw to each other
when the voice of the abyss is loud, insistent.
Brian Moreau
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Depth Charge
that the sailors found
the blossoms of light in the depths
beautiful
and that, come dawn,
the sight of the ocean littered
with U-boat debris could only
be considered a good omen,
one less enemy stalking them
thru the water.
Some days,
I’m only a bright flash in your shadows,
a weapon of love fired scattershot
into the dark.
Some days,
armistice seems impossible,
our hearts faltering
under the crushing pressure
of everything destiny has hidden from us.
Brian Moreau
Sunday, August 15, 2010
About a week ago...
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Forgotten great songs part one
Snow In San Anselmo by Van Morrison. Album: Hardnose The Highway
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Seeing things?
Friday, July 16, 2010
History's Greatest Monster AKA Brian
Monday, July 12, 2010
Just two of the people that live in my head
Legend has it that the Earth was created by the “Then” Gods (see below) and set on the back of a giant swan to drift around the heavens in peace and harmony for all eternity. But the “Yet” Gods (see below) were very jealous of this sublime creation and vowed to destroy it at any cost. They took the greatest hunter of the first people to live on the Earth and gave him the most powerful bow and arrow ever created. They raised him far above the world and bade him to slay the giant swan. Seeing the enormous bird, the hunter could not resist a shot to bring it down. However, the arrow, forged by the chaos minded “Yet” Gods, was not perfectly straight and the arrow did not fly true. Instead of killing the swan, it only wounded it. Gravely hurt, the swan sailed around the cosmos erratically, causing strife and war upon the beleaguered Earth.
Enter the Order of the Dying Swan. Believing themselves to be descended from that original mighty hunter, the men and women of the Order have pledged to finish the job and deliver the mortal blow to the swan, killing it and sending the Earth to sink into the fires of creation, destroying it forever. To do this, the Order carries out specific assassinations and acts of terrorism to hasten the world toward certain “node” moments (and yes, one of these nodes is on
No one is certain exactly how many the Order numbers, but it is said that no matter where you are on the Earth, a member of the Order is never more than two hundred miles away. All races, all creeds, all levels of social status make up the order. Men are given a name that begins with “Dark Mr.”, women are given names that begin with “Dark Mistress.” The headquarters of the order are rumored to be in northern
Enter Dark Mr. Fripperton.
The greatest warrior the Order has ever produced and also, secretly, it’s greatest failure. For Dark Mr. Fripperton is a secret acolyte of the belief of War Without End, which is in direct opposition to the agenda of the Order. The Order is working towards the Final War and the destruction of the world-the swan must die, the Earth must fall into the fire and die. Dark Mr. Fripperton envisions a world even more chaotic and dangerous then it is now, an endless series of conflicts and wars that will beat humanity down to an animal submissiveness and then take them out into the stars to do battle with the very universe itself. So far, his goal has been well hidden from the rest of the Order…although some are beginning to have suspicions.
Like all members of the Order, the life of Dark Mr. Fripperton before he joined is unknown and perhaps forgotten. It is possible it will never be revealed.
I have no illusions that this show will exist anywhere but in my mind. It's just too complex and there's been too many "wacky X-Files" like shows on the SyFy (God I will always hate that) Channel, people will think I'm ripping those off. But Winfield is a very real person to me and he will live on in my head and I can revisit my favorite "episodes" featuring him any time I wish...