I havent been able to post for a while (there's a tendency for me to start my posts like this recently), life's been a little hectic. Right, excuses over.
If you read my blog, you may come to the conclusion that I'm a very angry person indeed. Funny thing is, if you met me, I come across as being quite an affable sort of chap. Dare I say, even cheery at times.
I suppose I vent my anger through writing. Never got over the teenage angst thing I suppose. I have decided, since this is my blog and I do what the hell I please, that I would post something serious.
The only time I ever get serious (apart from some job interviews) is when I write poetry. ("OH MY GOD!!!!" I hear you gasp "IS THERE NO END TO THIS MAN'S TALENTS?"). Yes it's true, I shit you not dear friends. I have been known to dabble in poetry, albeit in response to some calamity that has been thrust upon me (mmmnn, thrust, I should use that word more often).
Nonetheless, I am going to post a poem that I wrote when i got dumped many many years ago. Please..oh please... oh please, if any of you get a sudden urge to critique it for style, structure or content, do me a favour and go do something more useful like removing your eyes with a pointed stick or battering your tongue wafer thin with a steak tenderiser.
So here it is...
Cry
The pain will go away? Time heals all? More fish in the sea to seek?
Do you feel a sickening ache in your gut? cry yourself to sleep? have guilt cutting you to the bone? come share awhile before you speak,
or leave me be and take your tired old clichés and your pretentious vomit with you.
Your oh so considerate and judgmental sympathy; the way you glance at each other and roll your eyes, that way you do.
I know what you think, and I don’t care, festering in my own unshaven and hungry misery,
lapping the last drips from the bottle, its emptiness a fitting reminder of my own destiny.
Grief is such a chore, and so lonely, why cant it come with an accomplice?
Pain would suffice, but sleep would be a more welcome solace.
A monopoly of despair, stop the greed,
share and share alike, many more desperate hearts to feed.
Ahh, opportunity knocks, an open door, respite, redemption, the terminal high
never asked for help, why? would it not then be a cry?
as the mist clears, a bloodless shell, the testament, a reluctant witness
swimming in a crimson sea of solitude, a naked lonely child thrown into an abyss
If you read my blog, you may come to the conclusion that I'm a very angry person indeed. Funny thing is, if you met me, I come across as being quite an affable sort of chap. Dare I say, even cheery at times.
I suppose I vent my anger through writing. Never got over the teenage angst thing I suppose. I have decided, since this is my blog and I do what the hell I please, that I would post something serious.
The only time I ever get serious (apart from some job interviews) is when I write poetry. ("OH MY GOD!!!!" I hear you gasp "IS THERE NO END TO THIS MAN'S TALENTS?"). Yes it's true, I shit you not dear friends. I have been known to dabble in poetry, albeit in response to some calamity that has been thrust upon me (mmmnn, thrust, I should use that word more often).
Nonetheless, I am going to post a poem that I wrote when i got dumped many many years ago. Please..oh please... oh please, if any of you get a sudden urge to critique it for style, structure or content, do me a favour and go do something more useful like removing your eyes with a pointed stick or battering your tongue wafer thin with a steak tenderiser.
So here it is...
Cry
The pain will go away? Time heals all? More fish in the sea to seek?
Do you feel a sickening ache in your gut? cry yourself to sleep? have guilt cutting you to the bone? come share awhile before you speak,
or leave me be and take your tired old clichés and your pretentious vomit with you.
Your oh so considerate and judgmental sympathy; the way you glance at each other and roll your eyes, that way you do.
I know what you think, and I don’t care, festering in my own unshaven and hungry misery,
lapping the last drips from the bottle, its emptiness a fitting reminder of my own destiny.
Grief is such a chore, and so lonely, why cant it come with an accomplice?
Pain would suffice, but sleep would be a more welcome solace.
A monopoly of despair, stop the greed,
share and share alike, many more desperate hearts to feed.
Ahh, opportunity knocks, an open door, respite, redemption, the terminal high
never asked for help, why? would it not then be a cry?
as the mist clears, a bloodless shell, the testament, a reluctant witness
swimming in a crimson sea of solitude, a naked lonely child thrown into an abyss
1 comment:
It's your sister. OMG you have a heart !!!
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