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That moment when your brain betrays your heart

It happens in slow motion


and all you can do is watch.
These moments are not easily forgotten
Strange Territory
the wilds of the human mind
unfathomable
Fourth of four poems written this morning.
Brain-mind science has always fascinated me, especially since I have believed since childhood that the human mind is limitless; an idea with which science is just now starting to catch up.  ;-)
 Jul 2015 DawynSHunter
Jellyfish
I hate my brain,
For not knowing what to say.
There are so many words,
Just waiting to be shared.
Yet my thoughts remain blurred.
Why?
I know that he cares.
 Jul 2015 DawynSHunter
deliciae
To  the scientist
the heart is an *****
necessary to carry on living

and when it breaks
the scientist fixes it
with medicine and stitches

and the scientist knows
that once the heart is fixed
you can just keep on living
the same as before


To the artist
the heart is a masterpiece
necessary to carry on loving

and when it breaks
the artist fixes it
with music and poems

but the artist knows
that even though the heart is fixed
you can never just keep on loving
the same as before

-sg
Too simple still
To fall in love
This chest was born wide open

Displaying vital organs
An extraordinary bargin

Then they began to slip away
were broken, cracked, or stolen.

And walls were built and made to stay
But now my heart is swollen

The fear of joy
For all my days
A path that could be certain

Because of that
Potential threat
To this most vital *****

E. Poe
*Oct. 2013
Me, I play the piano
said one
me, I play the violin
said another
me the harp, me the banjo
me the cello
me the bagpipes, me the flute
and me, a rattle.
And they talked talked
talked about what they played.
No music was heard
everyone talked
talked talked
and no one played
but in a corner one man remained silent:
"And you, Sir, who remain silent and say nothing,
what instrument do you play?"
the musicians asked him.
"Me, I play the barrel *****
and I also play the knife,"
said the man who until now
had said absolutely nothing
and then he advanced knife in hand
and killed all the musicians
and played the barrel *****
and his music was so true
and so lively and so pretty
that the daughter of the house’s owner
came out from under the piano
where she lay bored to sleep
and said:
"Me, I played hoop
ball, chase
I played hopscotch
I played with a pail
I played with a shovel
I played house
I played tag
I played with my dolls
I played with a parasol
I played with my little brother
with my little sister
I played cops
and robbers
but that’s over over over
I want to play assassin
I want to play the barrel *****."
And the man took the little girl by the hand
and they went into towns
into houses, into gardens
and killed as many people as possible
after which they married
and had many children.
But
the oldest learned piano
the second, violin
the third, harp
the fourth, the rattle
the fifth, cello
and they all took to talking talking
talking talking talking
so that no more music was heard
and all was set to begin again!
 Jul 2015 DawynSHunter
mike
it feels like a bunch of baby birds are being born down there and they all want to fly away.
 Jul 2015 DawynSHunter
Meg B
Collection of characteristics
that the outside world
deems desirable:
empathy,
gentleness,
sensitivity,
the ability to love
deeply, madly.

Yet,
from where I stand,
the view is bleak,
for having a heart that
is big
means that it is
a hundred times more likely
to be punctured.

I wonder
how many times
my soul can
take these blows
before it withers
into
nothingness.

My body aches
of a perceived emptiness
that is
grossly
full of
an echoing,
resounding compilation
of disappointment,
anger,
and despair;
and though I am sad
in the free flowing of
my own bitter words,
I breathe in a jagged breath,
heave a large sigh,
and succumb to my
self-induced
anesthesia
as my big heart
is transplanted
with some smaller,
colder *****
that is not
riddled
with
pain
and
dismay.

I want to be
small,
simple,
average,
for there is nothing
to be desired
in anguish,
and I now
find myself
writhing in
envy of
those who possess
the gift
of
apathy.
 Jul 2015 DawynSHunter
Auroleus
You stole my little heart.
I know you did;
I saw you take it.
I watched as you cut me open
And removed the pulsating muscle.
You thought I was asleep,
But I let you take it.
I thought that if anyone should have it,
That person should be you.
So do with it as you please...
But I hope that you keep it near you.
It's served me well over the years,
And it's also proven to be a real ***** at times.
But it will keep you warm.
That I can guarantee.
Enjoy.
 Jul 2015 DawynSHunter
T R H
Every time I see you on campus
(which is every ******* day now)
I get absolutely frantic
I'm filled with sheer terror
and I start to panic.
My thoughts dart all around
my heart freezes up
all my organs forget how to function
and I fix my eyes to the ground
to be sure not to make accidental eye contact

and I'm a fool
because you walk right on by
more than likely unaffected
from what I can see
while I'm contemplating
moving to a different country.
some force of nature
clearly ******* hates me.
The subject in this poem is the same subject in my poem "Amnesia". Go figure.
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