We've all been backstabbed by someone we thought we knew. Someone we loved who reciprocated only to snuff it out; a friend we confided in who spilled the precious beans; a risk taken only to result in failure. Sometimes it is intentional. Other times no one can rightfully be blamed. Spite and anger always seem to be the first emotion resorted to in such instances. Perhaps there is some evolutionary explanation as to why. Perhaps there is a savage benefit to spitting in the face of something that once was.
Venting is a healthy way of dealing with such intense reactions, especially if they are out of our control. Sometimes, the powers that be ordain things that cannot be shaped by our attempts to change them; when one half of a duel party refuses to alleviate the situation, the other half must depart. Providing yourself with a robust route of dispensing of your anger and spite will prove far better for the heart and mind in the long run than bottling it up or even allowing it to burst forth.
That's why the arts are so important: Music, painting, photography, writing all provide the most successful and healthy routes of attenuation. Hatred never helped anyone - Go write a poem!
Corsage, Croissant, Crochet, Croquet
Venting is a healthy way of dealing with such intense reactions, especially if they are out of our control. Sometimes, the powers that be ordain things that cannot be shaped by our attempts to change them; when one half of a duel party refuses to alleviate the situation, the other half must depart. Providing yourself with a robust route of dispensing of your anger and spite will prove far better for the heart and mind in the long run than bottling it up or even allowing it to burst forth.
That's why the arts are so important: Music, painting, photography, writing all provide the most successful and healthy routes of attenuation. Hatred never helped anyone - Go write a poem!
Corsage, Croissant, Crochet, Croquet
Swallow
your tongue…
Digest
your own weak imaginings!
Essence
I shall bung;
Oh, how I
would love to cleanse your muddy footprints
From
this place.
Demystify
the fossils;
Fill in
the cavities with concrete,
Like the
lungs you falsely filled,
While
you don’t deserve to breath!
You
cauterized the dagger
That now
wriggles in my back,
A
joystick that you grab
To lead
me along
This
Mobius path.
I will
take quick pleasure
In
ripping it free!
A
champagne rain to bath and boil bloody mead.
I pulled
you from the sand, but left you dangling from a string;
Freedom
isn’t gathered with a shackle or a stitch,
It
doesn’t matter if you feed or beat the bitch,
It will
bite you back.
I found
myself in a bathroom stall,
I was fading
painting on a peeling wall,
It was a
porcelain kind of forever
In a
plastic canon ball.
I’ll
throw shrapnel in the eyes of all you so fiercely guarded
And all
the opportunities you so sweetly pardoned.
A
figment of fiction is truth in all its vindications
And now
the threat is imminent,
A
valedictorian vendetta;
A
glistening inscription.
Your
accord has been cut,
Raped in
your wedding dress,
Grinding
off the malaise
As the
partitions you press
To get
drunk off the plaster.
I’ll place
the coin beneath your tongue before the trumpets begin to play
If
that’s not proof of a foreclosed heart,
Than
what more do you want me to say?
I HAVE A BOOK COMING OUT
I'm still working on the title, but it will be a collection of poetry with an overarching theme of death. I'm shooting for an April, 2013 release. Stay tuned for more details!
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