The Curse of Life

When it comes, we can’t still it,

Slow thriving black spot of life,

It creeps in while we expect it,

Slow ending back drop of life.

Go away! Go away !! Leave us.

To be still, to live in peace,

To enjoy what’s left of living.

We have toiled. Lord, we are toiling,

Since We have time; to brave the

Tempests, thrive knowing What is

against us. But you, You are all around

us, Sending servants to prepare us.

To confuse and destroy us:

For when you saunter in and take Us.

Oh we are NoT blind yeT!

wE wiLl seE You,

wE Will KNOW iT’s you.

But ouR Hands will be too tired to Box WITH You.

Our feet will be Numb, we won’t flee from you.

We will know you, but..

We KNOW you…

But….

We see your face but we forget.

We forget. We. Forget.

You will come.

I forget that you will come.

To take our bodies, to toy with us,

And we will watch it sag and refuse us.

You will take our minds, break our will.

Till we are hunched and at your mercy,

Our fists conjoined and at your mercy.

You will come and give us no time.

You will lead and leave us no time.

We will weep and wait for salvation.

Old age, lead us toward our salvation.

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Confession

My tears barely start before a chill settles.

My heart turns stony,

And my thoughts whine of folly,

While my eyes set their melancholic glare.

“No, there is no god here.”

“There is no hope for me.” I say and stare

” I pray yet spy the “Charyoutree.”

I grumble and whimper,

I brood and shiver,

In fear I call forth anxiety.

When it comes I stumble, I let it lead

And live as I hate; as a mess in place,

Waiting for mistakes i left to be corrected,

Waiting for old lovers to see the light.

Waiting for my path to light flames of glory

Leading the way to victory.

But no child,

They won’t change their minds.

No son,

You can’t change the past.

There is no hope here.

No, there is no hope for me.

My angst is leading,

It’s come forth as a gent,

As me, akin to roses; A good fella of love.

A reflex that is necessary,

Like a prostate, he’s letting piss pass.

But the tears; they halt as they come,

Barely threading ground.

I have forgotten the taste of my tears.

Solitary

It always starts off this way;
Locked away in my space I listen,
And I feel. I let the silence I hear
Rape me, coax my soul to her altar,
And leave me with aches and in pain.
I feel dirty afterwards, like it’s my fault
I am all alone, easy pickings for the
Succubus laying in wait for me, every time.
And I am to Blame; I make my anxiety
Intoxicating. I hold that always busy
Neon sign that says; “Come get me, sweety!” Over my head.
I ask for it. If only I would join the busy bees,
And live my life by clicks, I’d be happy.
If only I’d sweep my feelings under my rug,
If I just act tough, I would be smug;
I would feign some aggression and become a man.
And I wouldn’t be in my space, waiting for her to come again.
I would not be confined to my limited devices,
Making my empty space welcome the cold, black hole that is me…
No essence, nor backbone to hold me steady,
But four walls, transparent like nothing, and just a bed I lay on
For our regular sessions, while I watch the world in my confinement.
With my wise words written in ink to my side
My comfort and my reprimand…;

“You live in a cage;
That’s what your world feels like.
When they meet a sage,
Who’s numb to the world’s hike.
They don’t see the bars
Blocking escape; the breeze,
She blows heat from mars
For their blind minds to freeze.”

Need

I

Our words are always fickle,

Our feelings never settle.

Aiming to please our sickle

Hearts that have no mettle.

II

Give me wisdom so I will not meddle,

To know my place among the those who fondle

Love as a bundle 

Of wishes that forever, never dwindle.

III

Give me patience so I will not tussle

With roaming hearts that love to stumble.

My numbness will make me grumble,

But the firmness will leave me humble.

IV

I know now why I am no hurdle.

The loose ones do need a handle,

To hold onto, they are more fragile,

I let them know that they are agile.

V

But I too have ways to settle.

To move east when refused as a handle.

VI

One learns words hold no valour

And ignores those who speak of honour

 

     LEBRECHT-HITLEBB

Need

I

Our words are always fickle,

Our feelings never settle.

Aiming to please our sickle

Hearts that have no mettle.

II

Give me wisdom so I will not meddle,

To know my place among the those who fondle

Love as a bundle 

Of wishes that forever, never dwindle.

III

Give me patience so I will not tussle

With roaming hearts that love to stumble.

My numbness will make me grumble,

But the firmness will leave me humble.

IV

I know now why I am no hurdle.

The loose ones do need a handle,

To hold onto, they are more fragile,

I let them know that they are agile.

V

But I too have ways to settle.

To move east when refused as a handle.

VI

One learns words hold no valour

And ignores those who speak of honour

 

     LEBRECHT-HITLEBB

The Sonnet that Spake Heartbreak.

On this lush crag once stood,

Oak of heaven, born of Jove.

Its roots, before this mood,

Grew hope no gale could move.

Then sudden oak death came,

As a wench after man’s ill.

She swooned and made it lame,

It buckled, could not still.

It did come down with a shrill.

“Father lord!”, it did wail.

But she came with much thrill

“My Holy Mary!”, he would hail.

And the spell she left was broken.

And her spell of love had spoken.

Protecting me…

Don’t look…

DON’T YOU DARE LOOK!

That’s right, keep walking.

And avoid the awkward glances,

Be awkward and keep moving.

Don’t worry…

Don’t you dare feel SORRY!

Don’t feel sorry you’re lonely while I am protecting….

I AM protecting- I am saving you.

From what you ask??

FROM PEOPLE!

Yes, from them, from knowing them.

They’re Savages. They’re Judges.

They’re hangmen on crutches!!!

They aren’t good for you.

They will murder you! They will torture you!

They will just rape you!!!

And you… you’ll just write another sorry poem

For the pain in your heart.

You will stand waiting for the tear at the isle

You will usher her to her meet her maker

To have and to hold her, that fragile heart you love….

Whenever you’re hit with harsh words on the sly

That they’re normal and you’re;

Abnormal…

You’ll curl up and bawl on print

Whine in abstract and with hints

For attention and a couple more hits

I’m saving you

I’m saving you from all of that again…

So keep walking

Keep walking Son.

 

LEBRECHT|HITLEBB©2016||MADPOET’SDIARY||