Void

Void

It would be easier to say
I’m tired of feeling such soul-shattering sadness or
Holding in a horrid degree of hate or
Crying acid tears that tear open my flesh to the soul

I wish I could scream
That my heart is being torn apart
By fiery rage or mind numbing fear
But this is not the case

It is harder to admit
That I am being consumed by
The black hole of bleakness
That comes from being unable to feel at all

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Poetry Potluck–The Seven Deadly Sins: Envy

This poem is for Monday’s Poetry Potluck, which you can check out HERE: http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/2010/10/poetry-potluck-seven-deadly-sins.html

Envy

It eats at my heart
Like acid
I smell the burning flesh
As it chokes up my lungs
But I suppose there are holes
There now too

It tears at my emotions
Like talons
Slicing at my shame
So deep
But raking my black heart
Deliciously

It turns my soul to cinders
Like a bonfire
Sparking my blood with pain
Leaving nothing left of me
When it’s charred up
My shattered pieces

August 1st – Secret, Black Heart

I wrote this one after realizing I was using the phrase “secret, black heart” often in my latest poems. It sounded cool, so why not, right?

Secret, Black Heart

What is my secret, black heart?
You know what it is
Don’t be foolish
You don’t know mine
To be sure
But you know your own

Who does not have that certain place
Where jealousy rears its ugly head
Where hate boils over
Where you laugh at pain
Where you imagine causing it
Where insanity is sweet

I know you feel it
Pulsing in your chest
You try to stop it
For it scares you
But, my friend, relax–
It will never go away

Don’t look to hard within it
You’ll see what you’re capable of
Guilt will eat you up from within
Burning through your soul
And, until the end
You’ll be afraid of yourself

July 8th – My Soul on Paper

OK, so, after I wrote some of those poems I got some remarks that they were very personal and maybe I shouldn’t be writing them down. This is my response.

My Soul on Paper

You say I shouldn’t
Write down
The feelings in my heart
But if I don’t
Then tell me
What is writing about?
If I can’t write
With my emotion
Tell me what’s the point?

To me
Writing is sharing
A part of yourself
And not all parts
Are happy
So why should I pretend
That’s all I am?

I refuse to write a lie

So if I write something
That you say
Is very personal
I consider this a compliment
For you see
If I can place a bit of
My soul on paper
Then I have succeeded
As a writer