The Uninvited 2003

The Uninvited (2003) from Rudy Lemcke on Vimeo.

The Uninvited

I dream of going home
and remember a place
yes, it could have been
something I saw on TV
I guess I don’t remember clearly
my america

my home
under those bushes
the ocean isn’t far
there is constant noise
and movement
crashing
a perpetual drowning
no real sleep

there is very little difference anymore

I am alive
maybe not
phantom pain: the doctor calls it
after a limb has been severed from
the body
I am dead

and this is all just some fucking phantom pain

(the sky is raining napalm today)

I am loosing my sense of touch
I am able to inflict great injury
to what is left of me
with little or no discomfort

this is not pain

a voice in the radio sings to me
all the children (of Saigon) are insane

memory passes like disease
from adult to child

the numbness starts at the extremities
working its way
they deserved it
I tell myself
you don’t notice it at first

justice
consumed by it
the smell of burning flesh lingers in the air

he shot himself in the head one night
I didn’t try to stop it
I understood
envied him actually

now I just can’t seem to keep
things straight
the blood drained
from my body

it happened over there
no
just there

the shadow of his body in the moonlight
joins the other shadows
“…I in the midst.”

and the sound of gamelan music in the wind
this paradise

II

what foreign place is this?
smell of urine and shit

I am traveling up the Mekong
this is the way
along crowded city streets
and alleys filled with the refuse of the day

I
keep my possessions close at hand
you
gagging
not at the stench
but at the recognition
the retching
out
not
I

we are close
oblivion
where it all collapses
from the weight of meaninglessness
See!
they are loading the boxes
of dead boys

this nausea
a choking sensation
increased heart beat
forehead and palms sweating
shaking begins
eyes roll back into the head
I become
amid the violence of convulsion

oh what do we do with the drunken sailor
what do we do with the drunken sailor
what do we do with the drunken sailor
early in the morning

florescent white
this pornography
stripped of any trace
examine
this diseased corpse

there is nothing

skin
blood, pus, bodily fluids
uncontrollable oozing
this is the end

III

strange theater
of shadows
lingers
a moment between
chaos and absolute silence
voices of the submerged
its sweet poisonous music
this haunting
and I
shadow master
its memory

these uninvited