Killing Me Is Not Going To Bring Back Your Apples
(for The Wicker Man)
Helen,
Upon your arrival I swear I smelt Scotland in the fear
that I felt of a life that might someday be lived
without you
doomed to roam the parking lot country side
avenging this thing which needs to be avenged upon
but minus the curse of the Wallace/Gibson shaped mullet
so when you left I totally intended to watch Braveheart
but took a left turn somewhere while wearing a yellow life vest
while flying over some taxidermy’d colored island
and ended up watching The Wicker Man instead
a movie that you despised for various unspecified reasons
but one that, despite all the clog dancing
and freak post-flower Revels choreographed music
I tend to still dig
even though now, post your leaving and me now
sitting here watching this flick, it’s taken on a brand new
meaning, I’m seeing it now these days as a sort of metaphor
for the love that I tend to still have for you
- the love that you no longer have for me
from the moment when the middle-aged virgin police cop
shows up in his little aqua-plane screaming toward s the people on shore
“Will you send me a dingy, please?!”
Helen,
that’s where everything starts!
will you please send me a dingy?!
I start to see my love for you, through this poor sexlessly duped
movie character’s eyes
My love arrives on an island looking for the little girl that is the love
that I was under the impression that you once held for me
Looking for this little girl
who has gone mysteriously missing
My love arrives on the island and is immediately shew’d away
by a beach full of old sea men
and treated oddly by all the town folk
who claim the little girl/your love for me
does not exist
My love finds itself imprisoned on an island of lies Helen
an island of lies that’s shaped exactly like you
led there to its doom when it was just looking
for what it thought wanted to be found
It was just looking for your love!
trapped on an island upon which all the townsfolk
break awkwardly into bawdy sea songs about the Landlord’s daughter
who’s looking to bang my love for you, but that’s not going to happen Helen
because my love for you is my love for you
and like the virgin cop who’s saving
his future weiner insertions
for the sacred institution of what he thinks to be
his own impending marriage
the virgin/my love freaks out at the Landlord’s Daughter song
and demands: “I want my supper now!”
but he is denied it
then gets it later
only to discover that this dinner
it disappoints him
what he thought would be your love for him
(your love for me)
was not fresh and came served only in cans
On this island my love for you is horrified to discover
that it is surrounded by graveyards and orgies
and the virgin cop/my love, he’s repulsed because he’s a virgin
still alive so as of yet still unfamiliar with the cold embrace of tombstones
and devoting himself to various religious rituals which insist he not
un-sheath his willy, so unaccustomed to the wild orgies too
Helen, our love is part horror movie, part Duran Duran video,
and part post Michelle Brothers porn
with naked girls dancing loudly in the next room
my love for you dry humps the wall
on the blackboard upon which I write your name
in my loves search for you, there has been already written
this specific phrase which refuses to be erased:
THE TOADSTONE PRESERVES THE
NEWLY BORN FROM THE WEIRD
whatever that means
during the course of this movie and entire classroom denies the existence
of your love to me, right to my face
and then eventually as in all good fever dreams,
enters the great: Christopher Lee!
on your island they don’t use the word ‘death’, Helen
which poses the dead buffalo question standing in the room
Helen!
Where is love’s rotting body?! I ask
Where lies the rotting body of love?!
beneath my own body maybe
I’m just a walking cemetery? Is that it?
Because you’ve left me?
If that’s the case, then it only makes sense to go to the graveyard’s caretaker
for answers, but then the caretaker, he’s insane…
on your island Helen, the islanders eat all of their daily produce
out of cans, because the island’s crops have died
and your loves plan seems to be to sacrifice the poor dumb ass virgin
sacrifice the virgin
in exchange for fresh spinach
Is that what I mean to you, Helen?
Fresh spinach?!
My love riding side saddle dragging a little yellow cart
and when it’s asked to sit down, it’s asked to sit down
because as Christopher Lee puts it:
“Shocks are so much better with the knees bent”
We exhumed the coffin purported to contain love’s dead body
and came up with nothing but a cracked box filled with
Ritz crackers and a wrecked bunny, and death
“I hope you don’t think I can be made a fool of indefinitely.”
Helen, I hope you don’t think that
my love breaks into a taxidermy shop
heads to the basement to examine a box of old movie theater lobby cards,
discovers your preference for destroying me
- your love’s fondness for fresh cabbage
May Day festivity celebrations in full swing
but according to my new Marvel 2010 calendar
this thing here has nothing the fuck to do
with the month of May
townspeople don masks of woodland creatures
a thorough search is conducted of ever youse
“The Salmon of Knowledge”
after not finding anything runs to the bar for whiskey
at the festival he finds your love but it’s a trap
your love leads me through the caves with guitar noodled soundtrack
sacrifice demanded that my love come of its own free will
while they wash the body some bloke on the hill plucks out the Meow Mix theme song
on harpsichord
“Killing me is not going to bring back your apples!”, Helen!
love burned alive in a human shaped structure
of chickens and various other live stock and claws
Multiverse Johnson 