HELL HATH NO FURY

 

I SIT IN THE SHADOWS,

WATCHING THE WORLD COMBUST WITHIN ITSELF.

DISILLUSIONED, CYNICAL FEELINGS TAKE HOLD.

PERSECUTION OF THE INNOCENT.

APPLAUSE AND ESCAPE FOR THE GUILTY.

ANXIETY EMBRACES MY ENTIRE SOUL.

LOST IN THE ABSURDITIES OF WHAT MUST BE AN ALTERNATE

WORLD.

THERE IS NO JUDGEMENT OF THE WICKED.

SOULLESS DESPOTS ESCAPE THE LINE OF FIRE.

WHILE INNOCENTS ARE LOST TO TYRANY AND

MEGALOMANIA.

WHO GIVES A DAMN?

MANY TRY BUT ARE OVERRIDDEN BY THOSE THAT HAVE THE

POWER, BUT DON’T GIVE A DAMN.

THE WORLD IS DROWNING.

THE GOOD TRY TO SWIM, BUT ARE DUMPED UPON BY ENDLESS

WAVES OF DISAPPOINTMENT AND HOPELESSNESS.

I WANT TO AWAKEN TO A WORLD LESS SINISTER.

A WORLD LESS JUDGEMENTAL.

A WORLD OF ACCEPTANCE AND KINDNESS.

OUR SUPPOSEDLY DEMOCRATIC SOCIETY A FARCE.

POWER BOUGHT , NOT EARNED.

LIES TOLD AND BELIEVED BY THE DESPERATE.

HONESTLY, I SEE NO HAPPY ENDING.

FIONA

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HAIKU #2

MOON HAIKU

KISSING BY THE MOON

ENTWINED BODIES SHINING BRIGHT

LUSTING, LUNAR LOVE

A PERFECT LITTLE HAIKU

HOW I LONG TO WRITE

THE PERFECT LITTLE POEM

A HAIKU IT IS

BOREDOM HAIKU

WHY AM I SO BORED?

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?

POUR THE RED WINE PLEASE

JUXTAPOSITION OF TREES

 

BRANCHES TWISTED, KNARLED,

LIKE AN OLD WOMANS ARTHRITIC FINGERS.

A SCREAMING FACE YELLS AT PASSERS BY.

WARNING THEM OF THE PERILS OF UNCHARTED ROADS.

EXPOSED, SCALY BRANCHES WAVE AT UNWANTED VISITORS.

GREY, IRIDESCENT TRUNKS A WELCOME SIGHT.

GHOSTLY SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT.

CURTAINED BY DARKNESS THEY SHINE LIKE ANGELS,

SHIMMERING IN THE LIGHT OF A FULL MOON.

CRADLED IN MY ARMS, I PLACE MY EAR TO YOUR RASPY TRUNK,

YOU WHISPER TO ME SECRETS OF YESTERYEAR.

YOUR BODY HAS AGED, BUT YOUR SOUL IS NOT WEARY.

AROUND YOU LIFE CHANGES, AGES, DIES.

DEFIANTLY YOU EMBRACE THESE CHANGES TO TELL A STORY.

YOU SOAK UP THE WORLD, ITS THOUGHTS,

AND TELL THOSE WILLING TO LISTEN.

FIONA

WAITING

 

The clattering of the typewriter.

The muffled words.

Waiting.

For news good or bad.

The phone rings.

Too nervous to read.

Waiting.

It’s a game.

Or so it seems.

“Next please.”

But it’s not me.

I still wait.

Nervously pulling my hair.

Twirling my beads.

It’s no fun, this game.

This waiting game.

“Please come in.”

But it’s not me invited.

I still wait.

An hour has passed.

The typewriter still clatters.

People still talk.

Finally they call my name.

I go in.

But still I wait.

FIONA

THROWAWAY FRIEND

 

YOU LOVE ME , BUT YOU TREAT ME LIKE I AM NOTHING.

I LISTEN, I SOOTHE, I’M SAD WITH YOU.

ALAS, WHEN I AM SAD, IT IS UNIMPORTANT.

I AM YOUR TOOL.

YOUR THROWAWAY FRIEND.

INSIGNIFICANT UNTIL NEEDED.

YOUR WORDS A BURNING THRONG THROUGH MY SOUL.

CLEARLY, HURT IS AN UNJUSTIFIED CONSEQUENCE OF BEING YOUR FRIEND.

DWINDLING RESPECT, YOU HAVE LOST ME.

YOUR FOREVER FRIEND NO MORE.

FIONA