"heartstring" poems
I listen to them as they mouth your name;
and I see
how deluded,
how hypnotic,
how enchanted and consumed
they talk of your ways and,
how the stars in their pupils beam with a radiance of such pure awe.
Your words hang loose off the tops of their tounges and their lips drool in your glaze.
Your lazy features, your so electric but so infuriating charm -
sends them mindless, locks them in your illusion.
So it’s then
I try to burn every
sheet of paper which ink prints your presence,
inside these desperate shelves which fold upon each heartstring.
My ears attempt to block it out.
Instead they replay every song
that has ever left your lips.
And my eyes deceive me as they scatter
a particle of you on every surface of life I encounter.
My mind echoes every laugh you created in my streams.
Then I paint every colour you ever erupted within me,
in thick black.
As they mouth your name,
every trace of you with anyone but me,
causes my hands to pull through my gut,
and hammer down any of these ******* deceptive daydreams
that you have me trapped me in.
And then so easily, one by one,
debris of my heart crumble like rain
down your window,
down each vein.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
irksome thoughts spin round the moment
and they flee to where iv fled to
and they tap out strange messages on my head
and they gather dust into piles
and the piles grow to hills with the
passing hours and changing landscapes of the heartstring
strings are for kittens to play with
chase round and round
she lay in the shade of an oak tree
by the roadside
in the dust hills
sipping her long island
and watching the road with languid eyes
leaf floats down and
unattached from the dream
she wanders
the dust hills wailing for lost loves not her own
and berating thouse resposible for every
slight ever felt
headlights bath the dust hills
as eighteen wheelers truck
the empire of america ever southward
into the cheaply painted tropical sun
she is bikini clad
and is forever clutching an ice cold drink
that eternaly leaves a smile on
her forever blemish free smile
in the ***** dark dust hills
i feel so alone here by her side
i want to run away
and sleep in a feild
with the ****** and the drunkard
with the apostles of night
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 9:25 AM UTC
be the orpheus to my eurydice
Love me with your songs that reach a wood nymph
dance ballets around my head with poems strung along
my heartstring that play your ballads
marry me in the woods that gather hush tone songs of
a happily ever after with you my dear orpheus
but when our happy ending doesn't quite reach
a tender heart beat do not fret
just search the underworld for another chance
to find a joyous love with me
do not turn your head my beloved
for even if you cannot hear my soft footprints
ill always be behind you like a musical note
strung on your harp full of radiant strings
if you do not find love where you seek
you always have me Orpheus to where
our hearts meet in the tender green forest
where two lovers kiss quietly
beloved orpheus i will always be the song
to your beat and the poem to your heart
never stop looking for me in those places
where our connected hearts meet
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 3:30 AM UTC
Set of black pearl knives
Parallel vagabond skies
Corresponding idea hives
Pair of strawberry lies
Radiant shivering fire
Exquisite heartstring mire
Resplendent silent choir
Magnificent desire pyre
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
A silhouette leaned back
Grey smoke distorted features demure;
Swirls riddled—smooth jazz syncopation
Her rouge lips cut through
The darkness.
She took a long drag on her
Cigarette, smoke rings evaporated
A halo around her.
Midnight blue eyes surveyed
The Bijou Café
Carpet pooled on the floor,
Blood soaked with wine,
Enclosed by onyx sheets,
The far wall a mirror.
A reflection of the souled and soulless.
Bar welcome strangers, friends,
The lonely.
Sharing drinks and memories
Vines intertwined customers
A perchance meeting;
Rendezvous of sorts.
Nameless faces and acquaintances
Dotted the room, a familiar skyline.
Lonely tower missing.
Smooth black fedora
Hearts sank ships as
Waves of embarrassment
Enveloped her; disappointment.
Crestfallen her eyes downtrodden
Soared with a door creak.
Black fedora entered,
Smooth—slick as oil
Eyes were hidden beneath
A veil of night;
Silence became him.
Hush fell on the crowd
As the shadow took the stage
Light pierced through,
Illuminating him.
Orbs locked
Reservation started to pass,
Voice velvet smooth
Played every heartstring
Notes of excitement
Tantalized her veins,
Pulse quickened;
Echoing every tempo change.
Music coursed through her being
Sensual; seductive
Notes caressed curves, valleys
Spaces in between.
Emotion—chord dependent
Voice penetrated skin
Music flowed through her.
A mountain peek high
Mind clouded—
Breath escaped her lungs.
Quiet murmur answered her comedown
An empty stage; stalwart eyes
Fingers replaced music
Lips brushed hers; taste—electric
Smile turned smirk; hollow presence
Musky cologne in wake.
Magnetic pull forward
Fedora exited
Midnight eyes transformed to dawn;
Abandoned beneath the awning
Familiar skyline flowed liquid.
Bijou Café
Neon sign loomed dark
Save for a letter
I illuminated.
Heart tendrils retreated,
Back to roots; betrayed
Tears turned to water
Liquid guilt—love died.
Fingers loosed
Memory;
Small matchbook of shame
Lingering of once upon a time
In the gutter; pouring rain.
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC
I got your **** right here darlin’
My jaw is the hardest workin’ part of my body
And it never ceases to ***** chomp
Like premature bear trap
I mean lover,
I’ll sing you songs under the covers while you sleep
And wake you up
While standing over you lookin’ possessed like a bad horror film
The light from outside blinds you and blacks out my front
And maybe you won’t ever talk to me again
Been known to do that
Scare people off
With everything I do
This aint neediness love,
I just get so excited when you talk to me
Like a kid ready to run his mouth about his day
Me?
I’ll ***** talk your head off
And dance naked in the daylight before I leave
Make you coffee and eggs in the morning because
I can never sleep
Two eggs over easy, a sausage, and some hash browns
I call it my *********** continental
Please laugh for me one more time before I go
Thought there’d be more humor in my breakfast
That’s when you tell me that you can never be with somebody who can never take life seriously
Woman,
I’ll take you so seriously
Like the clap and the ***** we might’a traded
I don’t put people on pedestals because
I like things I can actually reach
Actually hold at night while they fall asleep
Let’s make a baby
Name him Norman
You know I am serious
About the name
not the baby
I’m not a father figure even though my figure aint good for much
Got it in sad clown college
It’s the one people go to when they want to make people laugh
Not because they want people to be happy
But because it’s the only way to get anyone to like them
Just when you tell your friends later
About that one time that I was your lover
Remember
I never wanted to be anywhere close to the best you had
I only wanted to be your favorite
The guy who can make you laugh and moan at the same time
And pluck your heartstring like a frustrated lullaby
The only guy who can actually make your breakfast *****
And then write you poetry
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 11:51 AM UTC
Let me start by saying goodbye.
As to every moment you draw
near me, a sporadic mystical
event, left me in overawe of
you and your conflagrant hue
as you trail across me, I see
how glorious you ought to be;
how a great voyage you are on
and how I am of other kind, not
of your own; how we were never
to collide, nor a glimpse of me
in your memory 'twas never to
provide a hunch of who I am
Perhaps, this is how it should be
For a moon has her sun
and a comet has his journey
And the moon is to eclipse with her sun
and the comet has to go with his journey
Thus, I shall cut this heartstring,
and swim out of this drowning
sea of dreams and delusions
and breath the reality back in
Yet I will forever and always be,
an admirer of your beauty; and
maybe, in another time, you
might catch a glimpse of me
covered in blanket of darkness,
accompanied by myriad stars,
You will see me, I know you will
But you will never recognize me
for and with my eternal mediocrity
And I will end by saying hello.
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC
a marionette with a broken heartstring
posed no more of a threat to her than a knife to her throat.
the thought of hanging free, carefree,
freedom,
from the puppeteer tainted her salty tears
streaming mascara down porcelain features. a blank canvas to recreate.
but it didn't matter how far she blew
in the wind, or the sights she saw through her broken, jaded eyes,
the scent of love, lust, longing, lingered
in the crevices
of the very oak she was sculpted from. reborn.
it followed close by, wherever she landed
through the gentle homely aromas of aged whiskey and cheap cigarettes.
he'd sold out;
a ***** to his own sophistic creation.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
A darling girl of three
Violet ribbon cradles golden hair
They fuss over her porcelain skin
Blushing cheeks and baby blue eyes
“Eyes you just want to steal,” say They.
She crayons pictures of castles
And heroic princes.
Her little dolls are played
Then locked in their little dollhouse
A fair girl of fifteen
Mornings she is taunted and condemned
By the mocking mirror.
She stares
And draws a smile on the vacancy.
Head, shoulders, knees and toes-
Strings attached to all.
Puppetted by the fetters of Expectation,
She smiles, and acts,
And dresses in little outfits
To please Them.
A charming girl of seventeen
Immured little fingers cradle the wiled world.
A Crayoned face fronts the masquerade.
Mangled in tangled strings,
She offers her heart and scissors to a little blonde boy
And cries, Kiss it better.
He smiles and smooths her brow
As his honeyed whispers tear her open
And he ties a heartstring.
He stitches her up with the thread of Promises
Leaving ribbon-scars delicate as lace.
Blueblack bruises blossom across
And stain her porcelain skin.
She shatters
While screaming his innocence.
Thieved eyelight
Makes for a jaded girl of eighteen.
A darling girl of three
Plays with toys
As They toy with her.
Just another broken doll to be.
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 7:52 PM UTC
the cascading sunlight folds
itself over the tables and chairs
making the bland beautiful
as she sits with smiles
ever-present spoken exquisiteness of words
she is the guardian at the gate
she is the handcrafted perfection
spun out from the threads of heartstring
sewn into her fiery love of rock n roll
into her gentle quiet lover's restful adoration
the cascading sunlight flows
over the chipped tile floor
like a slow flood of cool waters
inked into the deluge are the images
of days shared here
of the worlds within the music that plays
of the moments where her happy eye captured me
the cascading sunlight rushing
up the far wall as sunset inhales all the day's joy
and then exhales all our gathered loves
like purity
like beauty
like her sweet heart
the cascading sunlight renews us all
this is the birth of my new world
this is the journey that i never knew
till after i had taken its first steps
© 2018 mark john junor all rights reserved
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
Then I went to city park
to feed breadcrumbs to pretty larks.
I brought my niece Elise
and my nephew Patrice.
Well we stayed 'til after dark.
My brother's wife, she called me,
so I waived the dollar-nine fee.
She wants her kids.
So I closed my lids,
and I told her that that won't be.
Sorry, I'm taking them now, they're mine.
I'm not wantin' to listen to her whine,
so I hung up the phone,
let out a moan,
said it's time to go, it's after nine.
The children asked when they're going home.
"Well, we're hittin' the road, going to roam."
After 77 miles of driving,
they both got to crying'
and I told 'em to SHUT THEIR FUCKIN' MOUTHS.
I pulled over the car at Oregon Shortine,
took the W. Michigan Cross to Madison
merged to Blancheflower Ave.
Wait!
I said stay right fuckin' there.
I opened the trunk.
And with a THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
I bashed out their brains on the seats.
How are you, my friends?
I miss you, I was hanging out with some unsavory joggers,
and they always wanted to see some buffalo.
So I cleaned the seats.
I love a machine, I love a machine. I love a machine. How can this be, how can I feel so eruditely unclean? Is this the ends to my ill-gotten means? So how are you?
Then I left them lying there, across from the Lebanon Computer Cafe.
So I left them-
Advise me...
It was after all getting late.
My life is a net, my life is a net. I swirl and unfurl and stone the design, I curse myself, my heartstring facsimile. I played piano to forget, but my mind needs 89 keys to remember how to do that, and all I had was 88.
So I went to bed.
It was tea time.
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 7:07 PM UTC
A belly of butterflies
Danced to the sound
Of harmonica trees
And the violin leaves
Synesthesia bound
To the whispering winds
Of the sweet nothing skies
Playing fungi Fall fiddles
To tempos of riddles
Sensational melodies made in her eyes
Resonant love
In a breath of fresh air
These orchestra waves
In my deepest sea caves
Drifted away to the shores of nowhere
Then bottled-up notes
In time-signature sands
Wrote ballads of blisses
From strawberry kisses
Plucked from the tunes of our heartstring commands
And each nymph and faun
Composed of the Earth
Out of many songs one
And our voice was the sun
Crescendoing to a symphonic rebirth
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
Am I plain stone?
To be thrown far from the eyesight
Am I skin of the tiger
To be stepped by soulless merchant
Am I blood soaked by relative fellow?
Am I a lost tribe’s leader?
To be adored as saint
Am I lost prophet?
To be searched in caves where the Jinni settled his colony
Am I a Jurassic fossil?
To be displayed in a crystal cube
Am I a jasmine essence?
To be smelled after third millennium
Am I lost planet
The curse of mankind
Am I paradigm of goodness?
To be diminished by surrenderance
Am I perfect mischief?
To be hailed as a Gospel chant
Am I wing of purple angel
To bring you shade
While you search for knowledge
Am I supersensible tune?
To be played by enlightened heartstring
Am I aerial spirit?
To bring you storm
In a midday when the sun
Reads its quatrain
Am I a cosmic fluid?
To be dispersed as a star dust
Am I divine enough?
To rejoice for a cosmic harmony
Am I the bell from the angel’s wings?
To bell the beginning of a new prophecy
Am I a saint that shows hardly his miracle?
To be later adored as Godling
Am I pure water from the desert’s spring?
To be drunk on the moment of death
Am I death of Art?
To be reborn by Theurgy
Am I a drunken lover in Love?
To be perished in the quantum of photon
Am I stupid to reveal a new discovery?
So you may pity or
You may salute and laude
And so, and so, and so on.
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 7:44 AM UTC
**You've come again
delivered by the twisted hands of fate
swirling around my senses
Just the idea of you takes me aflight
I'm on a tilt, the axis feels so right
Heartskips missing beats
Excitement crackles the electricity between us
It's not right
But it's inexplicably addictive
Denial is the only truth
Calm over anxiety
Eyes meet
Heady Confusion
Skin on skin, a pleasant courtesy
A mere brush on the cheek
Stealing so much more
Than the microscopic dermis impaled on Un shorn jaws
Lips that left heated traces
Rushed prickles down newly flushed cheeks and into my cleavage
nestled deep
It's been so long
So giddy but on guard
I forgot the divineness of being swept up in your atmosphere
Deftly, You took that heartstring between us
gathering it into a loving bow
I was so busy untying it I got tangled up in knots
Panic under cool
I washed with thoughts of ice
I combed with logic
I dressed in disregard
I know what comes next
The pain
But we both know it's too late
It's all started again...**
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
I miss your skin,
thermal t-shirts
two buttons at the top
I miss your fingers in your hair
pushing it behind then back again
without even thinking
I miss your logic of this mess we wrapped ourselves in
telling me it was perfect
because we had waited so long
just to look at each other the way we do
it didn't matter how fast it went
it didn't matter what complications got in the way
you were in this if I was in this
and I'm in this
deeper than I think either of us ever intended
that's why I miss your healing hands
and heartstring cords that sang me songs
of trust in every smile
I miss your skin,
because it was the most tangible way
I could feel you
and now that time has past
and my memories of you have faded
into delicate blurs of almost was
I can't feel you anymore
I can't feel anything
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 4:53 PM UTC
Is that still you?
I remember days of not breathing
at the thought of your last breath,
of loose words
and using them to carefully twist
a heartstring hammock.
I can't see past the red in your eyes now,
the spots on your face like footprints, track marks,
soft and tired,
hard like needles.
They stripe your skin as if for an ancient battle,
for a war that soaks your empty spaces in kerosene
and scrapes the match off your wrist.
So while these butterflies pull my stomach
out my mouth, to the floor,
and your feet shuffle from the bombs erupting
down to your toes...
I can't bear the thought of a cloudless conscious,
of reality too close to the glass.
The thought that I can't save you from this,
because all I want
is to burn down with you.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
while reminiscing through
the thickly pined forests,
the gurgling streams
and fiery sky, blinking
through the notches and scars
with blazing beauty,
with sea's gentle drumbeat
and silvery descendant of heavens,
caress my numbing hands
with a mitten woven with
precious gems and
heartstring
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
fidelity, understanding
empathy, caring unconditionally
failing descriptors of life's most sought feeling
reason, felt as purpose for existence—love
time spent seeking, sadness at depriving
either youthful bliss or aged wisdom
emotion's hold unconstrained by seniority
consuming our hopes and dreams
those which drive drawn breath
found true amongst family
in peer only seldom
never a nation, only the few
love guiding all, the
key to a perfect civilization
to create a people of programmed emotion
woven strands
DNA's complex beauty
reduced to binary code's rigidity
heartstring circuit wiring
free will replaced by java script exception
not soul but operating system's disaffection
mechanical allegiance
an imperfect love found in robotic adherence
fealty unfettered
good intention forced subjection
creation resultant a society hollow in perfection
an empty hull of truth
love lacking substance, fictitious in merit
absent the tribulation
the moon by which the sun's effect strengthened
loyalty absolute the greater plan
stalwart and without grievance
love free of expectation
a golden emotion impossible to automate
true love organic by nature
fluid in its implementation
dynamic and unpredictable
to understand the value of light
a man must lose himself in the night
a hard road to learn the better way
by the world's cold we might
know a Kingly castle's warmth
the answer to evil's allowance
free will to choose our citizenship
a nation whose flag represents
the most excellent way
meaningless without choice
left led by our own feeble perception
too oft to misunderstand His intention
a perfect love made perfect by imperfection
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
When she found him,
he was a brittle bag of broken.
Drawstring taut.
Tight.
Holding thoughts that went unspoken.
Opening up isn't easy,
though they say it is in theory.
When putting it in practice,
words slowly flow uneasy.
But she found her way to his heart,
started to slowly pull it's strings.
Looser and looser.
And now his words he sings.
His spine was cracked,
so she blu-tacked it back together.
His mind, a map they scrawled
on scraps of black leather.
Bandaged his ego and plastered his past.
A perfect example of a person well matched.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
Love me again, I'll give my everything
Give me your heart, I’ll take the love you bring
We’ll set the world where we don’t see the past
We’ll sail the sea with our love’s stronger mast--
We’ll feel the breeze like songs of love we sing.
So love me, dear and let our heartstrings cling
Through all our Winters, Summers on through Spring
So take my hand, you’re mine again at last!
Love me again...
We’ll be as two doves flying wing to wing
To our celestial throne as queen and king
Where soft angelic clouds may off-broadcast
A love's that's deeper than the stars are vast
As vibrant harp strings mimic each heartstring
Love me again…
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
words to ether,
rhyme set on the winds.
what is needed now..
to break the rapid fires flow..
words come to nothing,
weary heart hears naught.
but the brachycardic
thump-thumping of
banal poetic bantering.
synapses, slipping, sideways,
into creative slumber.
ten and ten again,
ringing zen gongs, abide,
within,without,withall,
drowning the charismatic
chaotic, tidelike cleverness
of a thinking brain.
time is bought and sold,
in streetmarket stalls.
by spending precious pennies,
and bartering intelligence,
for slow, mudane,urban thoughts.
words to ether,
to mist, to fog,
blown to the ends,
of the earth.
to twist and turn,
and begin again,
as.... a sigh,
a whisper,
a stutter,
a keening in a soul,
a stroke upon a parchment,
a daub slashed on a canvas,
love etched into a heartstring,
a proclaimation allowed an utterance,
a life made a little more whole,
by kindness spent in letters.
written on a sigh of mercy
and sent forth, from the mouth of peace.
these are simply,
the motes of poetic grace
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
There lies a small red planter
within the hollows of my chest:
Though it forbids all weeds to wander,
it still festers, nonetheless.
For the dirt inside my lungs
once froze in seasons past,
and the sun had not burned bright enough,
transforming beauty to barren casts.
But on this night I feel a stir—
not a bang, but yet, a whimper—
your hands held earth and held it close,
and buds bloom within the planter.
-
And as I listen to your breathing
whilst you tend the grove once more,
your soul sobs raindrops across my chest
and my heartstring roots are torn.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 1:48 AM UTC
CBW: Broken nails claw hollow eyes,
Lifeless breath gasps slow demise,
Stifled are my solemn cries,
Forever failed, my many tries
To work my way out of this rut, this godforsaken hole, but like dust upon rock bottom are the fragments of my soul.
The pent up pressure, the murky waters of creative flow,
Now soaks the floors like poisoned blood,
A concentrated woe.
Alas, the shadows,
my sunken home,
It's where I'm told I should belong,
And you expect a simple answer when you ask me what is wrong..
DDF: To expect a simple answer
when I ask,
"What is wrong?"
is an accusation burning in rhythm
of songs
For I know depression can be
miles long
Show me the enemy you've
fought for too long
depression
I know is strong
Show me what I can
do just to keep you
Show me the empty shell
you have stuffed yourself
into
For I promise I can mend you
Show me the animal chained
inside of you
Because I have one too
Show me the late night screams
For I can see your sadness ripping
at happiness' seams
Don't be afraid to show
me all of you
Let me help you build upon
this sadness that has consumed
all intentions of something
new
Together who knows what we could
do?
CBW: A crack in the ceiling, exposing a light?
A call from the heavens to let me know it's alright?
This twang on my heartstring,
Resonates deep inside,
Yet, why does the strummer think her good side should hide?
Her music consumed
what once writhed in the shade,
The musical beauty was who my demons obeyed,
Yet my demons are different from the ones some portrayed,
But you can easily soothe them, if only you played.
Although the music is for me, it's played for another,
You're stuck in a sort of limbo for a lover,
And it's hard to hear from rock bottom, to the top of your tower,
The music is faint unless you give it more power.
I'll be here, filling this rut with my tears, wishing that your music could reach my ears.
DDF: I watch you struggle
trying, trying
to pull yourself from the
bottom
I look down in despair
for I know this in itself
is not fair
A god I would never bring myself
to bow to
whispers of redemption in single-
minded tongue
catching my attention
My mouth opens without a warning
spewing out prayers from night until
morning
This is not music, my dear
these are my words laced with
your fear
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
We deloused it
so we could stare at it
we vaccinated her to
remove potential pregnancies
the only reason to participate is ultimately to remain calm, and in sight
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
You pull on my heartstrings
faster
than little kids
pull on fraying string
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC