Helen

Helen Feb 2014

not only that, but Van Gogh could probably read the lips of his critics (Haiku)

I only lost lobe,
My hearing is just perfect
standing to my left

Helen Feb 2014

there is a reason for pretending
behind a fake name
a fake smile
It's all the same

Because pretending
you're not the same
as the life you lead
or the blood you bleed
even the truths you freed

Because all others see

is what you don't want them to

what they don't know about you

what they envision in their own mind

as you hide behind

The Mask

crafted by a scarred hand
hiding wrinkles on a face
that laughed a lot
less frowns that were attributed
to those happy lines
There was a time
one time
that the mask slipped
and colours dipped
and slowed
Life ebbed and flowed
and each i was dotted
and each t was crossed
and we connected
like cursive script
but we forget
That the mask kept everything
disconnected

I took off the mask

*and wrecked it

Helen Feb 2014

Game, Over

it flashes incessantly
in front of angry eyes
pleading to feed more
quarters into a mawing
jaw of an empty slot
mores lives to waste
with perfect haste
begging for another chance
but empty pockets insist
you no longer exist

this just feels... unfinished *shrug* Perhaps not...

Helen Feb 2014

It's not like in the movies, or books, or even what's made for TV

It's just not like that!

There is no script, no director screaming
Cut!
Now let's do it again
this time, with meaning?

There is no early warning of subterfuge
or lightly dropped, not so hidden clues
No instantly in 'five minutes' guessed plots
because all expectancy needs to fit
inside a predetermined time slot

There is no Boy meets Girl
Girl hates Boy
Boy doesn't understand why?
Boy realises on page 106
why Girl hates him
and spends 87 pages
delving within his own psyche
as he rides his motorbike
on the edge of Life

he will crash, most like

Ever wonder why sequels are never
"as good as the original"
Because questions were answered at the end
and everything that went unanswered
never begged the question

Of course, you say, it will never be
just like a book or a movie
or even those ******
'Made for Television' series
because each and every one
is just a captured moment in time

Depicting just one heartbeat
out of so many millions
that skittered out of line

Helen Feb 2014

****** Apple Tree

A rolling mist, so fine and pure
gliding toward a love so sure
but doesn’t completely obscure
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, to me, did sing

A mist to erase all the haste
and never see the imperfect waste
to be forever embraced, beneath
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, to me, joy did bring

The mist turning into a soft shroud
that gently envelops like a cloud
the place I never felt more proud, under
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, to me, gave me a ring

As I look up to all that I should admire
and the mist slowly chokes all that I desire
Haunted by lust, my death I will aspire, shaded by
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, to me, took away the sting

Now the dark clouds will gather
and nothing else will cease to matter
all I dreamed will shatter as I mourn, under
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, for me, did swing

**** you and **** me
Apple Tree!
For taking away the one thing
to which I needed to cling

**** you and **** me
Apple Tree!
As I sit under your protective branch
and mourn my lost romance

**** you and **** me
Apple Tree!
While you continue on being
My lover, to me, I continue seeing

Helen Feb 2014

an open letter of apology to my friends, my fans, my poetry family, because let's face it, nobody else is going to read this crap

I'm sorry

I'm not a very good communicationist

I'm not even a a good writer of rhyme

I seem to exist

most of the time

in my own mind

It's an ugly place

But thank you for your messages

Thank you for the poems

I'm sorry

I can't express myself better

but your words will always be

Home

(to me)

I'm sorry

I'm just a falling down shack

No

I won't take anything back

Sorry

Helen Feb 2014

just don't f**king care!

don't even know why I wanted
to shape this as a poem
perhaps because Poetry is
the only Love
that ever loved me back
it's all I've ever known
despair lays heavily on a heart
that beat for so many others
now it just beats for one
and even then I wish I could
just stop it, shock it into dying
it beats for no reason, each season
it tick tocks upon the rocks
of where it has been bashed
by another's unsupported anger
unjustifiably angry with no reason
but I don't ******* care anymore!
Used, abused and given little hope
that I made a difference in breathing
just a little same oxygen that you do
it's irrelevant that the eyes are unseeing
the heart is still beating
just don't ******* care!

Do you?