False Hope and Falling Stars

                                               (Image from jokesoftheday.net)

My thoughts turn to you as they often do,
constantly pushing the door to pain and regret.
You always leave the key under the doormat
but nothing is ever closed, because we are meant
for each other, love and heartache.
False hope is worse than fool's gold.
One is better off running to catch falling stars.

Sun Singe

                                               (Image from Cdn.tutsplus.com)

Walking on the surface of the sun singes sin off bare feet, harried lust
For life past the milestone of relations and dust and gun blasts
On the mountaintop where the music of joy ends at the fall of light
Relit at dawn when silence is king dethroned at the first sound of sighs
Moaning for an absent lover whose wickedness knows no bounds
Beyond seas he must know each detail as if betrayal wasn’t enough
To shame the hidden touch of silk on denim
Walk fast past stares and desires whispering sweat an afterthought
Of tomorrow’s promise of rendezvous under rain and spit on dried lips
I-love-yous shooting sparks on excited electrons see you thank you

Shattered

                                        (Image from Farm3.staticflickr.com)

Shut out, shattered

Indifference is a slap, a punch, a kick

Repeated, it feels like a mugging

It’s pain all its own

Feeling unwanted, unloved is death

Where the heart beats

but is unfeeling

The soul tries to soar,

falls each time

To be told you are loved

Talk to you soon

Then silence as deafening

as a graveyard afternoon

Better off dead with the dead

Nothing for nothing

Guilt and shame hid but seen, felt

like love deceased, useless

* & #

                                               (Image from 3.bp.blogspot.com)

*Hi, Em! How are you doing?

#Stuff it, Git. Don’t even pretend you are interested in my life or in me.

*I miss you.

#Sure you do. Where were you all those years when I needed you? Who did you shack up with? How many? Did you get what you wanted, Git? Oh, sorry. You’ve never content. You have to have more and more.

*You’re cruel.

#You’re repetitive.

*You haven’t changed.

#You got change for a hundred?

*I only have dollar bills. Just got off the plane from O’Hare.

#Are you staying?

*Only for two weeks. Mayk wants me back in Beygas as soon as possible.

#So stay for just two days. Two hours. Heh!

*You’re still sarcastic.

#And still sexy. So, you married that dumb fat negro?

*Don’t insult him. He’s black.

#That’s what I said. Negro. Spanish for black. The word is not insulting. I use it the same way the United Negro College Fund uses it.

*You know the reason why I married him.

#Besides the fact that your other old American lover, the white one, refused to marry you? Yeah, yeah. For “practical” reasons. For that all-important green card – ATM to the heavenly banks of the land of the milked and honeydewed.

*He helped me!

#And he helped himself to you. You paid him in cash and in kind. Looks like he’s still helping himself to your kindness. So what happened to the rich old white man you bragged about? The one you gave yourself to mere hours (or was it minutes?) after meeting him for the first time in your life on your very first day in America?

*I left him.

#He dumped you.

*Yes.

#After what? After two months of having you as his live-in maid, cook, laundry woman and sex doll?

*Stop it!

#You did but not soon enough.

*Don’t rub it in.

#You did more than rub.

*He exploited me.

#You let him. You encouraged him to do so by showing yourself to be a slut at first sight. You threw yourself at him. You were too easy. Too obvious. He saw dollar signs in your eyes. He probably also heard the cash register ring in your heart … or somewhere much lower.

*He refused to marry me. He said it wouldn’t work because I have too much baggage.

#He means you have too many children; children he doesn’t want to spend for.

*He’s very frugal.

#Just say stingy. It’s more appropriate. Fuck political correctness.

*He made me feel nothing but ordinary. He took me out on a date a few times for pizza and fish and chips. As you say … stingy.

#So you left him slash he dumped you and you promptly got yourself another bald senior citizen who’s got much less money but fatter. Much darker too. You went from white to black. Do you plan to try out all colors in the spectrum?

*You’re a racist!

#I’m not color-blind. You had black before when you took in as a lover, seducing your ugly subliterate laborer almost half your age. You’ve had much younger, now you’re going for much older.

*You make me feel cheap, like a slut, a whore.

#So stop acting like one! You know how much I love you. I’ve never loved like this before. I love you unconditionally. I get mean because you’ve hurt me deeply with your lies and betrayals. You told me you love me and that I will always be the one you will come home to; that you were going to America to find work not find a husband. You did not waste time breaking that promise once you got off the plane in Sea Atoll. You never intended to make good on your promise. You lied. Was there anything you promised me that’s true?

*I do love you. I came back to you.

#You came back to your children. And you are going back to your black husband. Like always, I’m at best a stopover for you, someone to run to for comfort when someone else you choose rejects you. We are not meant for each other, Git. We never were. Even if we genuinely love one another, decisions and circumstances have conspired against us. There is no us. There’s only your need to get ahead in life. You don’t need me for that.

*I need you in my life, Em.

#Stop lying and just go away while the going is good. Bye.

A F___ing Fable, a Freaking Fairy Tale (Rated R)

                                           (Image from Roleplayerguild.com)

Once upon a time ... they lived together
for a while, not ever after. Not even happily.

Guilty for your betrayal of a lover abandoned?
Your immediate action after f___ing the rich
old man at first sight did not suggest guilt.
You were proud, eager to tell the whole world,
posting on social media that you spent
your first night in Nevereverlandmerica
in the seaside castle-house
of your geriatric boyfriend ... old King Cole
not Nat petered out passion, sex by the numbers
dial 911 for heart attack Viagra-powered
stiff warnings.

The rose in a glass case wilts.
The beast's beauty fades.

Whatever guilt there was
was washed away in the shower
flowing into the drainage system
towards Puget Sound, the circle of fire.

You are forgiven for your betrayal.
The hurt remains.
If you believe forgiveness
erases pain; no, it doesn't.
Neither does it mean
vengeance is sought.
The hurt is merely harboured.

What happened to "he's a wonderful person ...
decent ... the doctor, the colonel ... I discover things
about him everyday that I like ... he gives me meaning
and direction ... things I never had with you ...
he's the man I most likely will marry ..."?

Yes, what happened to all that gold?
Did it turn out to be the fool's kind? If diamonds
are a girl's best friend (damn the dog),
did those stones turn into a lump of coal?

Maybe that's what happens when you rush into it,
going for the dough, bartering body and soul
for the prospect of wealth in a cold-blooded grab
for moolah in a calculated get-rich-quick scheme.

The universe is always watching.
Karma is real. It's the law of negative compensation.
It haunts you now, your teacher's stern gaze
and accusation: "You are immoral."

In fairy tales without happy endings, the gifted lose
their power when they get greedy.

The Endrend.

Finis penis.