"heatless" poems
I was molded by his own hand
sculpted to perfection and eager to please
who else other than my husband
for without Adam, there is no Eve
at least, that was before he slithered into our perfect life
pounding our perfect garden into the ground with his slick feet
conniving and a brute,
he convinced me to take a bite
and share my fruit with man
for what is mine is his
my knowledge is his
I am his
together we ate
snacking and licking our fingers with glee
wiping the secretions of the fruit of mankind
against the tree we tore it from
until our Paradise's pastures declined
the wildflowers overtrodded with weeds
the singing waterfall vanished
only to be replaced by an evil, magmatic spout
and our tree,
our once bountiful, glorious, fruitful tree
decayed from the inside out
Adam's burning glare rotted my fruit and my seeds
until they and I dropped to the burning embers on the ground
like nicks off of a pebble that was thrown too hard
or like hairs from the back of a matted mother cat
that has spent far too many heatless winters hunting
for a different life,
for any life
with no more than a curse from Him,
I became the failed experiment of humanity
tossed into God's own graveyard
left to rot with my stolen seed
Apr 29, 2022
Apr 29, 2022 at 1:16 PM UTC
oh better not say that
mind of hell
tongue of heaven
better not think depraved
veiled demon, licking ******** for car payments
God watches
what will people think
am i good person
birthday face
shut eyed stiff
not dangerous, like a gun in the face
did i say the right thing,
cypher of morality
the knot of good, a slow strangle
a frightened worm
wont risk tears
eeek
here come the scissors
technology brains wired like weaponized monkeys
eater of crumbs
heatless heart ransomed for the ******* rent
can i evaporate
like a dead cat in a black box
better then tripping all over my self
strings attached with hooks
on shunted limbs
a relic of modernism,
office life
talking scapegoats hissing
always haunted by what's missing
guts spilling through clutched fingers
apologizing to a faceless crowd of sea shells
and bagged heads
minds like the small screens
sitting all day
frenetic fingers and burning eyes
exhaling only
there's a part of me thats been crying since birth
be careful
what you do
in the land of the free and the brave
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 9:49 AM UTC
Goodnight.
Sleep well.
I love you so much.
See you in the morning.
The house quiet and dark.
We break from our hug and walk to our rooms quietly.
The only sounds are my footsteps and the news going in Dads room.
Just another night.
Earlier that day,
I saw you cry.
I saw your upper lip shake like the ground when mountains fall over.
I saw tears rush down your face and into riverbeds and onto your lap.
I watch you turn the other way so I don’t see you as weak.
The man I have known to be the heatless ******* is the person who needs heart the most.
He needs my heart.
His daughters heart.
His girlfriends heart.
His heart is an endless pit of pain and guilt
but he keeps a firm smile on his face.
He breaks down like the rest of us.
He gets depressed too.
Hell, with what he is going through I don’t know what I would do.
But this man goes to bed every night hoping to see his daughters beautiful face
Hear his sons voice over the acoustic guitar
and the ******* chickadee’s waking him up at 6:30 every morning.
He goes to bed in tears.
Worried,
His daughter’s depression has gotten worse.
His son feels.. abandoned.
His girlfriend overwhelmed.
His heart is black from the ashes of bombs being dropped on him almost every day.
His hands red from slapping destiny in the face and taking his own road in life.
His wedding ring that he still wears because he knows how much it means.
His son,
Worries constantly about him.
He worries that for once more his happiness will be stripped from him like white paint on an old wall.
Painted over and over and stripped only to get a new coat of paint.
The walls are getting tired of this ******** and just want to be left alone.
He worries that one day he won’t be the same.
He worries that sickness will drive him over the wall and into a land he doesn’t want to see.
His father is a strong man.
But he sees the worst things that could happen.
He is breaking down.
Father goes to bed but stays awake throughout the night
Hoping that she hasn’t left him.
Hoping that she isn’t sick.
Hoping that his son is happier than ever.
Happy that he gets to see his daughter.
Truth is,
His son idolizes his father.
He is a true hero.
A decorated veteran in the war called life
and his battle wounds are crippling.
But ****** his feet still work and he can still walk.
He has the biggest heart imaginable,
his son worries about his father.
Goodnight.
Sleep well.
I love you so much.
See you in the morning.
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
She had wavy locks
The kind that twirled around when she stood at docks
When the coastal wind fell in love with running in between the hair lines.
And everyone will always note her beautiful brown skin
But even those descriptive words could never sink in
Because she was the type of girl
That no other writer could dream about in their worlds.
Her dark brown eyes had always shied away from other’s looks.
Pierced and wandered when all the other glances took
A look at her attempting to flee
To the imagination she’s always dreamt about in the early morning passed three.
You see,
There once was a boy with ocean eyes and golden tip hair
With spots plotted all over his skin
Who made her feel like the flowered one underneath the sun
Because surely her heart was won.
But she never noticed the gun
That continuously took aims at the teared down fortress
For surely she believed that there was hope for the heatless
And no matter how many bullets hit the mark
She was too afraid of being in the dark.
You see
The idea of her was as simple as it can be
Smiles and laughs
Kindness that forever lasts
She was the kind that got people to open up and shine
But there always came a time
Where they leave her far, far, behind
The ideal her starts ripping away
And there always came the day
When it stopped becoming her outer shield
And when her insides became harder to deal
There always came a time when the real one revealed.
And they’ve always foretold
The truest one breaking free from the hold
But they never tell you
Who’s going to be there to see the real one coming through.
And stories always hide the sadness with glee
Because no one ever knew that the spotted skin boy flee’d.
So she was left on docks
Wondering why her wavy locks
Had not received the coastal winds love for her hair lines.
Wondered why her skin
Was missing light rays the sun once gave in
Because even though people would write
How she must stay strong and be the light
That her love has to come from within
And not from what could sink in
But no one ever told her
How lovely it was to be nurtured
By the words that went passed her ideal
And comforted what has always been real.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
oh better not say that
weaving tongue
better not cut my ***** off
with malignant algorithm's
better not think lions shredding hyenas
while veiled demons lick ******** for car payments
and boarder children gnash heaping tears of blood
desperate for their parents loving arms
and soft troubled kisses
God looks upon his creation and says
"and it is good"
what will people think
am i a nice person
birthday face
shut eyed stiff
not dangerous, like a gun in the face
did i say the right thing,
cypher of morality
the knot of good, a slow strangle
a frightened worm
that wont risk tears
eeek
here come the scissors
technology brains wired like weaponized monkeys
eater of crumbs
heatless heart ransomed for the ******* rent
can i disappear
like a dead cat in a black box
better then tripping all over my self
strings attached with hooks
to digital shunted limbs
relics of modernism,
office life
boring like seamless gray linoleum
talking scapegoats hissing
always haunted by what's missing
guts spilling through clutched fingers
apologizing to a faceless crowd of sea shells
and bagged heads
spread sheet minds like computer screens
sitting all day, tabulators
data schmata
narrow chairs; bellies cascade and bloat
frenetic fingers and burning eyes
lungs exhaling only
robo faux; shut up
happy chappy snappy
key punchers
punched out
there's a part of me thats been crying since birth
be careful
the wolf is at the door
in this land;
the land of the free and the brave
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 11:16 AM UTC
A pale
And heatless ray
Of sun split through the blind’s
Small gap. You dropped the blind and it
Was gone.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
Snatched back
From the icy talons,
Of deathless sleep,
Or sleepless death.
Heartbeat pulsing in my ears,
Rattling in my chest.
Leaving me helpless,
Heatless,
Struggling to catch up,
Unawares.
And now I lay awake,
Trapped in fear,
Knowing I am unable take,
My final breath.
http://tansyroake.weebly.com/
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 5:20 AM UTC
i cross my fingers
in hope to escape you
i cannot do so in reality
but it's a possibility
in my dreams
i rest my head
desiring to forget you
and not remember your soft touch
and sweet words
my eyes grow tired
they soon close
but you remain in my thoughts
my dreams consist of you
my doubts that i ever entered yours
you could do without me
you'd be grand
we are both knowing of the fact
but me without you
that my friend
would be summer
with no heat
if summer went heatless,
what would you think?
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 9:32 PM UTC
The roses that now sprout in the garden of my heart are lifeless,
the brilliant red that preyed upon the love we shared is now all but a heatless fire_-with Lovat it's new reflection.
Shadows of despair corrupt the shine in my heart and a mask of heart break suffocates my mind
I can't feel or tell reality,for the colour that painted my life faded away.
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 3:51 AM UTC
Windows with no holes in the screens.
Countertops & tables surfaces that are clean.
Sinks with no ***** dishes.
My own bedroom & refrigerator to put whatever we wishes.
Our own closet with a security deposit.
Without dust or mold.
No cobwebs clinging in the heatless cold.
An oven that works with a toilet that flushes.
With maintenance that rushes.
A fridge that don't leak.
A bed that don't creak.
A household that is organized, clean, & neat.
Trash taken out daily & never overflowing.
Spacious & roomy with people adoring.
Without mold, stench nats, or ants.
Nothing to complain about rave or rant.
To be able to have a friend over.
To have a clean bath tub for my body to get washed.
To be in charge & be my own boss.
Head if the house with my own address.
A moment to savor that froze.
No foul stench up my nose.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
It may feel dark and eternal
The longing for a dawn that never came
It may feel cold and ethereal
To burn in the fire of a heatless flame
Black eyes, as a prophet of things of evil
Beating it's wings as a whisper of devil
The eternity of a night of misery
As dark as black might be
As the raven observes the war
And calmly quotes ''nevermore!''
It has been days drowned into night
It has been months of dreads and harms
It has been summers and still no warmth
It has been decades and still no light
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
she was done.
i was not.
she wanted out,
but i held the door.
frantically i watched the last
grains of our time together
pass through the twist of an hourglass
and everything i ever wanted to say
rushed toward my teeth.
my mouth went dumb
in the burn of her heatless fire.
that cold dimming light that told me
she would listen,
but her heart could no longer hear.
all i could choke out was a feeble
"...please..."
it passed through her, bouncing
off the wall and rolling back
to my feet.
she turned to leave,
and i was left with my
single pathetic word
still begging
from the floor.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 10:24 AM UTC
She speaks to me when I cut my skin
She speaks to me from far within
Before the blade slits my wrists,
she reminds me what if .
What if one day..........
one day you could be the light
of others life
but more importantly your own.
What if one day you wanted not to take your own life
but ro five to others .
What if one day you could see soul d connecint before you
rather than the heatless saved you have before.
What if one day you found beauty
not from the blood running from your leg
but from the jalediscpe of humanity itself
What if one daub I was you
and she was her
and
y
o
u
we
re
free,,,,,,,,,,
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
the world is white at its edges
bathed in stolen light
carried to anxiety by a fake god
its heatless words
dying in its throat
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 1:15 AM UTC
you're not all one
but in my mind you shall be
through your bedroom window and the floor beside your bed i lied
in the garage i smoked *** with you and your baby-mothers-father
in the back of your car where i first heard the melody of my soul
in your inner city house i spent too much time in
waking up in your arms and you lying to me then and months down the road
sleeping in your van while it was 40 degrees
in your arms because i was lonely
in your heatless house with candles lit and all but it wasn't romantic
running on no sleep while the sun scanned over us that morning
in your basement while your mom was at work
in another basement as i stared at the posters on your wall
you are different people
but i still got what i wanted
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 6:16 PM UTC
The house that was once new
Where feelings and emotions grew.
The house that was once warm,
Now cold, dark, and worn.
The world and its hate,
Caused the house to survive in this state.
Happiness has long gone away,
A new friend, sadness, is here to stay.
Windows broken, says the ceiling that leaks.
Dark and cold, says the floor that creaks.
Silent and vacant, except for desire.
Cold and empty, says the heatless fire.
Heartless and hungry is the beast within,
Say the walls, damp and thin.
Repeatedly jabbed, broken and torn,
Says the house that is cold, dark, and worn.
This, says the owner, is the reason why,
The house will eventually collapse and die.
Alive yet breathless, the house lives on, fighting to make it to the break of dawn.
The house is fragile, dark and cold,
Ageless and broken, young but old.
Something clear from the very start,
The dark and cold house is merely my heart.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC