Ripped Heart


Sudden, unexpected, violent–
All that’s left, a gapping hole.
The magnificent tree that had been seeded
that had taken root
that had been growing beautifully
under tender loving care
unceremoniously uprooted.

By what? who? where? how? why?
In shock and reeling from injuries
can only stare.
Stare and stare at where it used to be
as the wounded heart bleeds.

Reaching out frantically–
Where is it?
Just a mistake. A wayward wind, maybe.
Wrecking unintentional havoc.
A trial to be overcome.
Re-plant the tree, quick!
Put it back where it was, fill up that hole, tis not too late.
It’ll recover, and be stronger from this.

The tree… is gone.
Twas not a wayward wind.
I see that now.
Twas a deliberate act.
To rip, to hack, to chop, to destroy.
There’s no hope left for it.

Well, maybe– start again?
Here’s a seed from the beloved tree.
Should I place it in the hole?
Start a new chapter of the same book?
It’ll be good–mistakes made with the previous tree won’t be repeated.
It’ll outshine it’s predecessor.

The seed’s… not growing.
It’s not receiving the love or care it needs–
or perhaps it was a bad seed from the start.
Bad trees bear bad fruits which give us…
dead seeds. Not worth the time.

The gapping hole stares back.
Blacker, bigger
each time you look.
The edges harden–or are they healing?
No, they turn black from poison.

The darkest, roughest parts
are those in contact with the roots of the missing tree.
Once full of life and joy,
now only death.

It’ll be a slow and painful
but necessary process
to weed out every single last tendril
deeply entrenched and entangled
in the soil of the heart.

Great care is required
to not cause more damage
to let the heart heal
to extricate
every
last
memory

and send it the way of the obliterated tree.

(How inconsiderate
to take the tree but leave the troublesome roots.
Leave it there to develop and flourish
else don’t even start to grow it at all.)

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A person so cruel, a person so heartless


A person so cruel, a person so heartless.
Would I have you in my life?

A person so cruel, a person so heartless.
Words and silences, alike are knives.

A person so cruel, a person so heartless?
Can a person really be?

Maybe just foolish, maybe just callous,
Maybe they can’t see what you see.

Is ignorance an excuse for murder?
Is weakness one for crime?
Is it intentions that matter,
Or actions alone that can drip with slime?

Is it enough that I deem it cruel;
Is it enough that I suffer hurt.
Does it matter what you see?
Does it matter what you think?

A person so cruel, a person so heartless.
That you may be, in my eyes.

A person so heartless, a person so cruel.
Maybe I don’t want you in my life.

Ode to Suicide


Write in prose, and people worry.
Write a poem, it’s merely expression.
So I’ll write in prose-thinly-disguised-as-poetry
Give it some rhythm, give it some form.
It’s the best I can do.

Here is a blade,
a bottle of poison,
a gun.

Well-
since I have neither poison nor gun
I guess the blade is my weapon of choice.

A gun is too loud,
too sudden, too quick.
And also too messy and gory.
Out of control, angry and wild.

Poison is too subtle,
too hidden, too covert.
It makes me think of my bout with food poisoning:
A piercing pain
On the inside beyond reach,
Beyond control and ambushing;

A blade is neither of those.
A blade is silent;
the sounds of slicing
only in your mind.
With a blade you have control
Of a sharp, scraping, surface pain;
The kind I like.
A blade offers the luxury of time
in the way it takes:
Seeping, draining
leaking, fading.
Gradual

And yet
all these pain are but a mere cover up for another
the kind that eats you alive from the inside
and takes your life even if you don’t.

Written on the 3rd of December 2011

My Rainbow Heart


My rainbow heart
Where have you gone?
I haven’t felt you
For so very long

I miss your laughter
I miss your smiles
I haven’t had that
For quite a while

I miss your prancing
Your joyful songs
Your silly banter
Your stringing along

I miss your optimism
Your idealistic hope
That all will be better
There’s no end of the rope

I miss your contentment
Your inner peace
Your love for the world
Your desire to please

I miss your appreciation
For the simple and small
To not hold grudges
To let go and trust all

My rainbow heart
Is that you hiding?
I think I see you;
You’re almost in reach.
My rainbow heart
I know you’re hurting
You don’t like pain
But pain, too, has lessons to teach.

Dear rainbow heart
Please come back stronger
Please don’t get tarnished
and come sooner, not later.

I need you.

 Other hearts: Black Heart and Pink Heart

Venom


Black Heart ATC

Venomous thoughts and poisonous words;
Whom do they prick? Who do they hurt?

“All of you can go fuck yourselves!”
I’m sick of being shot down.
I hate you, I think to myself,
Black anger swirls round and round.

An armour of self protection
from the crap the world can dish out.
Or a more sinister infection?
Could you say, without a doubt?

Stone walls built around you heart
Shield attacks of knives and arrows.
They keep out, keep in or keep apart.
Suffocate prisoners in the gallows.

In my anger,
black venom flows
tendrils worming
into deeper hold

Thorns protruding
A slow rage burns
Which direction?
Yet to learn.

A hardened heart’s no good for joy,
or happiness, laughter or smiles
Soften your heart, that’s the right ploy
Choose love, it’ll be worthwhile.

Yet how many times can you keep turning
the other cheek before it gets sore?
How many times can you keep enduring
getting stabbed and shot once more?

With desire to hurt, hate lashes out
Being angy makes me feel better
But should I be crying “demons, out!”
Rather than indulge in this behaviour?

Venomous wallowing in poisonous muck
Right now I can’t seem to help but do.
In letting them fester, breed and grow
Do I hurt me more than you?