It’s difficult to go from being dependent on someone to being independent. It wasn’t gradual, it was sudden. Like the way you are engulfed by fire, all of a sudden you are consumed. There’s nothing gradual, there’s no warning, it just happens and you’re left with nothing except fire and fury.

a pair of red gloves,
fury in brown boxer shorts;
blood splattered on floor!

Whereabout of the heart, where might it be ?
When fury is a feeling which engages your senses, your mind and your soul in a raging outburst of negativity expressed in adrenaline,
Everything seems to be one sided, a loop which only fuels your anger with thoughts of unpleasant, disturbing annoyances, making it harder
Harder to resist, until alike a super nova, you explode in a viscious rampage with knows no escape, so, where is the heart ? Where is it?
A tantrum might be encouraged to grow in size if it's revenge you seek, desire, want to live for to make it expire, with violent passion,
Mercy or compassion, forgiveness and simpathy may be forgotten, within the depths of your burning soul, lit ablaze solely by hatred,
You may lose your mind, oh beauty of a living existence, becoming alike a lily of murderous intent, spiteful, yet elegant and wonderful,
A shivering star, ready to take its opponent down with itself while destroying what used to be so precious, unique and simply sweet,
Blemishing the unconscious without thinking of patience or the chance to calm this nuclear meltdown, unfolding in tragedy for us,
The pure light of your praying palms might help in this regard,
Because his remembrance is what makes furious hearts become calm.

~ Umi

all those months ago,
you told me that
i don't get angry.
i don't have a temper.

you're right, you know.
i grew up
a target of anger.
anger was in my blood.
and that blood was a scarlet crosshairs
painted on my back,
a poison to my fragile skin.

my household was
the veritable entirety
of the world i knew.
it was ruled
with harsh words
not the words that make you angry
but the words that you say
and regret
and can't take back.

i was raised in
an intimate relationship
with the red-hot eyes of rage.

i know angry.
i know the rolling boil of your intestines.
i know the pressure in your chest
i know it well.

i know how to cool tempers
(a survival skill for my emotional state)
and i know how to rile them up.
i know how to play
the heartstrings of your fury.
if you asked me,
which emotion i knew best;
which state of mind i could best harness;
i would answer, simply
anger.

anger issues are
embedded deeply into my dna.
i've felt cloth pull
under my fingertips.
i've seen spots in my vision.
i've known the rise in your throat
the frustration squeezing
and refusing to let go.
i've felt anger.
i've received anger.
i've survived anger.
i've seen anger tear my family apart,
i've seen it linger and remain
even after apologies
like an unwanted curse,
determined to ruin me.
determined to ruin us.

i don't have a temper, by nature.
but every now and then,
it rises up in my chest.
but i've been oh so careful.
never would i want my anger
to hurt others.

i have the bruises on my wrist to prove it.

you once told me;
out of all the things in the universe
you could have told me;
you told me that
i'm not an angry person.

i've never felt so relieved
because the very last thing
i could ever want
was my fragile existence
painted with the curse of anger.

i refuse to let
the very thing
that ruined me all those years ago
cling to me like a parasite
and turn on those i love.

so thank you,
thank you because you
spoke it into existence.
by telling me those words
all those months ago,
you, while not breaking my curse,
confirmed it was broken.

My fury would wash you down and away.
Tumbled red and broken dry,
Til you’ve been laid out flat
And pinned to cork.
No better than a butterfly.
All mine to display.

I've been thinking about you,
In the ways that I used to,
I can't get you off my mind,
I feel like I'm losing mine,
I've been daydreaming,
About what could have been,
What would have been,
If I wasn't a fool,
I fell for you,
And pushed you away,
Why am I so cruel,
To have punished you,
For the way you made me feel,
I wish I could have,
Let myself reveal,
All of the things,
You truly made me feel.

Throwing stones at Philosophers


Critical conscience is not an admittance of ambivalence,
But a philosopher once said:
“You threw a rock at my head Fred!”
A road along a path is but a journey to nowhere,
If your cart is broken by a donkey or the donkey is dead.
In all the worlds that I have imagined,
Surely all things are possible,
Except finality of bravery;
A human once said.


If I read your body language correctly,
You speak only of the bee disease,
But a bee society has never ever been set free.
So what use is it to me?
I am no slave, nor have I ever been free,
In this world you have created,
Figuratively.


I…am a human being!
And once upon a time I was quite happy,
Until you chanced upon a whim to throw a rock at me.
“I never did!”  Lied he.  “And so what if I did?
I never meant anything by it.
I just wanted to see if I could do it
And whether I should or I shouldn’t is irrelevant.
I could, so I did
And if it got into your head,
Then at least I made you think.”


As I quietly pondered and thoughtfully wondered,
I was stunned, simply floundered at his absolute arrogance!
And a plundered thought was thus born…
Is he right…?
Nay!
War!


I will return his helpful hint with a tenfold of my own!
And so began The Battle of the Naut and the Earth
And upon Gods breath I roamed.
All that remain are a pile of bones,
Covered in boulders and sprinkled with stones.


If a man cannot agree, then folly!
I will become a beast and the nature of the thing,
Will forever be seen and heard!
But never truly understood.
I’d better read another book.
Look out duck!
“What?”  Said the thought bubble.
Never been at one with seeing double,
But now inflamed with insight,
I was clearly in and seeing trouble
And as sure as light, there came another stone,
From (this time) a complete unknown.


Oh the contradictions thought philosopher Uno,
As he strapped his helmet on as if he could predict the future;
And sure enough, just as peace had been bartered for and sold,
There came a clink, followed by a blink, and a thud and a lost think…
“Forget this!  I’m going home.”


So as I was roaming through the seven layers of Hell,
I thought I’ll have to ask directions to save myself.
Maybe a goodish citizen will pray tell me where the Hell I am!
Oh, excuse me young man, I was wondering if you can,
Or rather, could, tell me where the Hell I am?
The man he simply smiled and then he loudly laughed,
As he burst into a thousand screaming insect eggs!
This is not a laughing matter!  I said,
And pretty soon they were crawling up my legs.


So I ran and I ran as fast as I could,
But it did no good.
They were a part of me now and to each other we were each stuck
And it was all I could do to not let out a high pitched scream!
So I did.
And within a glimpse of time immemorial itself,
I had managed to escape from the dream.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

A crimson day unfolds with sunshine,
Horrid, the creature of hatred creeps around and blocks the sun off gruesome dark rainclouds summon up from the east, counciling,
The mother of purity, caught in endless fury as her child was taken from her, before her very eyes, an eternal spring dream, shatters now,
By her own mistake, she invited prohibited emotions for this creature, The angel of hers she wanted to take under her wing and raise, was now gone, as if it was all an illusion which is lost due time, due evil,
A sea of flowers is blooming, a warmer season has arrived finally, but for her misfortune, her inside remains cold and distant to her grief,
Raging storms within her clouded her mind, she can't even think straigh but to believe, of what a bad mother she must have been to let this happen to her most precious treasure, ah demons of ones past,
Repressing her true feelings gave her headaches, but it was alright because the pain would surely fade, then she could be pure again,
But deep inside she knew that for this child she had given up a part of herself, so maybe things would be different, even if everything returns to its old shape, or rather if everything appeared that way,
Mother Purity would never be the same again, as her daughter faded,
After all, even she is only human.

~ Umi