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Helen Nov 2013
I am afraid that unknowing strangers
will brush against me in the street
and I will catch a glimpse of eyes
that smile in pain as I silently weep

I am afraid to touch another's hand
only in pure condolence
to have said hand grasp me tightly
to lay underground with them, in Silence

I am afraid to be who I am
I live outside the norm
at the very end of Unusual street
usually a haven to a Perfect Storm

I am afraid you patronise me
because I whip you without fear
of becoming your ******* mistress
I sting, I disappear

I am afraid of letting the spaces
that crack beneath my feet
to swallow me whole
and I have to admit defeat

I am afraid to reveal to you
the darkness you so despise

I am afraid I am that darkness
I am afraid you will open your eyes
Helen Nov 2013
Thine acts are of no worth
and in thy Eye is death
Mock the traveler on the road
that does struggle to take a breath

Thoughts are scattered on the wind
and forever cast with doubt
Alas, the wind sighs back again
to bring thine own disaster about

To take apart a simple verse
is to pick upon the bleeding carcass
that has shed it's skin, simple carrion
to feed the masses as is asked of us

The quill that has governed experience
has been sharpened upon the rusty knife
Forsaken in the course of revelry and
taken to the very edge of a lonely life

Cast a jagged eye to an empty corpse
and spill platitudes that crawl with malice
Seek the macabre as noble warriors of yore
there will nay be drinking from the mystical chalice
Helen Nov 2013
Biology was their favorite subject
The frog pinned
to the polyurethane
grinned
a mask of death
But the smile was wider
to those that wielded the scalpel
the cut so precise
to examine the internal organs
exposed beneath a bated breath

Lycaenidae, Nymphalidae,
Papilionidae, Pieridae, Riodinidae
They are all butterflies
but they become one by the sword
the sharp taste of steel
that bound them, spread eagled
beneath the smile of their Lord
beneath their Lucite coffin
they never become bored

Ancient bones of ancient beings
beg to be laid to rest
beside all those that
fall close to extinction
because they have been there
and done that
and are now displayed
in their very finest

Trophies that line the walls
behind glass and whispers in the hall
A hushed reverence that is displayed
while the suit walks tall
wondering why
we should be a hater
When all he has done is preserve
a world gone mad and has come undone
Like the bones of his first victims
he brings life back
in a macabre display
He stands tall, but walks alone
yesterday
a Serial Killer
today
a *Museum Curator
Helen Nov 2013
I hate digital alarm clocks.

The eerie way they light a room in the deep of night and that silent way they have of counting down the hours of life left.

It just leaves me exhausted!

At 12.47am I woke to a flickering red haze across my bedroom ceiling that seemed to spread like a stain down the walls to pool on the floor.
Now, I know I should not be reading Amityville Horror in bed, on a full stomach and I’m pretty sure that the block of chocolate that I snacked on while reading may have upped the ante in the endorphin stakes but combined with that evil digital alarm clock I was wide awake at 12.47am and the curtains at the open window were flickering across the harsh red numbers.

The oddest scene was playing around me, like a bad play where all the actors rolled around in a vat of blood before they stepped up.

Kratos and Ares, in full battle regalia where crossing swords with a ferocity of a westerly wind fleeing from Zephyrus himself. The clang of steel was loud in my head and beat a pulse behind my eyes that watched them move around the end of the bed and along the wall along side of me.

The breeze slithering through the trees and through my open window bought whispered entreaties to my ears…

“She mine Ares! I saw her first, I will have her. She is my Yin! I will possess my other half!”

Clang, clang, grunt, clang

“Kratos, you do not know me well to think that I will not fight for the one that can stand with the God of War! I will have her”

Clang, ******, parry, clang

Now, this is where I got really confused.

I was starting to think that the red haze fluttering around the room was from my bleeding eyes because it was now 4.27am and more than 3 hours of my life were gone.

How was I supposed to get that back?

I was idyllically pondering what a Yin was while being gobsmacked by the fact that I was actually the other half of something. But being the other half of Strength?

What does that make me?

Weakness?

What would my Greek name be?

Profligatus?

But that didn’t concern me more than what Ares wanted with me? How strong did he think I was? Sure, I’m a bit prickly at times but for the God of War to focus on me? ****, and I thought I had curbed my enthusiastic condemnation of humanity… Obviously I had not!

But who am I kidding! It was really very nice to have them fighting over me. I’m not really sure who drew first blood (because of the ****** evil digital alarm clock glow) but I’m sure I would have swooned into whomevers arms reached down to claim me had it not been for the sound of the evacuation alarm.

ER ER ER ER ER ER ER ER*

****, ****, ****, the sun has crept over the horizon and has lightened the darkened theater that is my bedroom and it’s the alarm clock that is shrieking a warning that it’s time to start a new day.

****! I’m not ready for this. I’m tired, I want more dreaming, or awakening, or whatever the hell that was!

Most of all I want to know…

What did it all mean?
Helen Nov 2013
I said

Come on! It's time to go to bed. Let us not be wandering through the internet right now listening to 80's songs that seemed right, oh say, 20 years ago. We can't be doing this! I'm tired, take me to bed, put me to rest!

then
I said

*******! Get the **** outta my head! Why do you bother me with your prissy little frilly consciousness then berate me with sleeplessness when I try to accommodate your whiny **** and actually go to bed! You torment me with images of that would be dead to me if you just let me load myself up but, no! You insist that I get myself up... and go... to bed... I'd rather sleep when I'm dead!

then
I said

Well what's the point of hanging around inside brain dead cyberspace keeping me thinking that I'm never going to keep up the pace and while your kissing PaULO4FuN do you stop to think that perhaps I may be done? Do you not feel that burning behind your eyes? The impaired vision is my doing! I'm trying to hinder you by disguise.... Come On!!!! I'm tired.....

so
I said

Really? Is that you doing that? Then why the HELL do I pay $12 per bottle of wine which I consume by the vat? And if you're so almighty as to be able to provide such a welcoming buzz why do you feel the need to hammer me while I'm trying to drift, cocooned, in a nice warm fuzz?

sigh
I said

Please, believe me, I say this with all honesty, your nothing but a drunken piece of lint that would not like to be picked out of a belly button on a good day but you're all I've got, and until you pass out I continue to see the rest of the world as just one great big inkblot... Go to ******* bed... for the love of Satan.... Please!

I said

I'm going already. Keep your shirt on

I said

Good! but I'll believe it when your gone

I said

Nasty *****, I better sleep well tonight

I said*

Drunken cow... if you make it to bed, I'll make it right

*I can only trust me...
btw.. I consulted the toaster, the coffee table and the microwave and they all think I'm fine!
Jan 26
http://hellopoetry.com/-helen/
Helen Nov 2013
It was just three tiny words
that wreaked havoc such as
time immemorial seemed to have forgot
Innocuously sitting inside a dictionary
You pusillanimous pile of infected snot

There is no tampering with a raging universe
while trying to coerce a slippery fish
into a cage, such as a raging comet
But I was caught upon your fishing hook
You gelatinous mass of shark infested whale *****

Oh, I know, I wriggled a bit, I flipped
I flopped, but I was just kissing the hook
But you knew
You knew!
You heaving bucket of roadkill stew

Just three words!

You could have flung them at me
as you walked on down the road
You string of demon spittle
hacked upon the ground
then licked up by a toad


I’m going out...

Well, my friend
Not the three words I was looking for
Those words just soured on your breath
like rancid three day old meat
caught in teeth that are already bad


I KNOW WHERE SHE LIVES
(I whispered)

Then, I got really mad…
Jan 5
Helen Nov 2013
I divested myself
of the constrictions
of modern society
that suggests my curves
are borderline obese

but an artist eye
doesn't see this

It pictures the dips
and hollows of life
bearing another soul
over and over
Connoisseurs of Form
appreciate my nakedness
as I'm transferred to canvas
with pigments of ochre
and red and charcoal blacks
Smudges are incorporated
into telling lines that lie

But there are no easels
nor a paintbrush in sight
I'm standing naked under
a moon full and bright
for the sake of art
the only person painting me

in perfection

*is me
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