The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter.-Three Poetic Works

The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter

The heart is a lonely hunter,

in the wee hours 

of it's mournings, 

its soul is a scout 

always searching,

for the sweet meet of love.

Each heart's lonely 

endless litany 

of lub, dub, lub, dub,

sounds much like 

some ancient war drum

echoing hollow 

in an empty bed.

One can hear 

their own swallow

as tears are digested

on the corner of 

Third and forlorn

in a small 

apartment for one.

The heart needs 

the fullness

of another's catch,

the shared cacophony

of stereo beats pressed tight

against taut skin.

So it sits like a 

vacant lodge

welcoming other hearts 

who are on the prowl.

But the path to it is treacherous,

for it has set itself up for a fall,

and it has taken 

many wrong trails before.

Nevertheless it is open season,

for any and all dears.

Secondhand Soul

I'm not broken, 

I am simply a badly 

restored vessel

once shattered 

by love....

reglued by 

the necessities

to just go on

but my soul retains

slight cracks

where it once 

was whole    

I am no longer 

able to 

hold the tears in,

since the flower

I once held

was removed.

A Chance To Vent

Excerpts from 
the wailings of a 

heartbroken 
teenaged girl

"Vengeance is mine 

saith the Lord,"

But I'll dare 

pre-empting God,

with some unholy 

wrath upon

your despicable, 

cheating head.

Those Lips 

that I kissed 

hitchhiking across 

another's,

like pale maggots 

they now disgust me.

I'll post your shaming, 

on my very 

public school blog,

and its 367 

girls readers

will avoid you 

at all costs.

Even if the 

only Prom date 

left available is Ernie 

the pimply faced,

fart king of 

my "NotSo High 

School" anymore!!