The Storm

Your words unspoken have drained
me - soaked me
with remorse and hatred of
those things left to melt away;
fade; drip; through a meaningless
pool of regret.

Seeing into your soul so clearly -a tumultuous river
relentlessly blaming its watery veins - striving to be understood -
appreciated - loved -

My heart quakes. My petrified soul allegedly withstood the pain;
now
the sharp pangs of Chaos pulsate through my mind
torn, ripping,
extracting
every detail - into the maelstrom unleashed.

Distress is my companion -
Anarchy, my aid -

You, however remain
a dull cave
                   of guilt:
Strangely, the artery proceeding

my dying    soul is here; etched,  carved in
lies
within You, my Saviour.



Copyright © JRFB 2012

Discrimination

Throughout my entire life I have been brought up to perceive other Human beings as equals and that it is wrong  to judge by one’s shade of melanin, or by one’s size of feet and certainly not by one’s preferred Church clothes. Of course these are perhaps peculiar features which one could judge a person on, but I’d just like to point out that prejudging someone on their race is just as ridiculous are prejudging someone because they are wearing a rather unflattering brown jacket which does not indeed match their skin in any way and so they definitely do not have a sense of taste or style in any way.

It is very well for one to say ‘I do not judge, I love everyone’, because that is obviously heinous blasphemy to the laws of discrimination. Everybody hates someone. This is not meant to be an indirect attack on the conduct of which we, as humans live our lives, but is merely a statement relatable to us all, even if we fail to admit it. Everyone hates someone, be it because once someone asked to borrow your blue gel pen in pre-school and then never returned it, conjuring up a livid fire of hatred and causing you to make a personal vendetta against that person; or perhaps whilst in your public library, you simply saw someone who you preferred to show distain for, rather than gentle indifference. Indeed, distain can cause pleasure (for the conjuror anyway). Sometimes it is simply nice to not like a person; it shows variety within your range of emotions and human interaction.

However, I am in no way encouraging a rebellion within humanity, sparked by a few controversial words by a nomadic misanthropist who loathes her very existence and that of everyone around her. I am highlighting how it is perhaps worse to pretend that we all get along like bees in an beehive (exclude the episodes when the drone bees gang-rape the Queen and then brutally force her to lay eggs for the remainder of her short life…..) and that we should get off our do-gooder’s high-horse and just admit that there are some entities in Life that we cannot control: our abilities to hate.

Hopefully we are all mature enough not to actually show our hatred, but to at least show a sense of civility and false affections. Yes, here I am accusing humanity to be superficial and that behind every smile there is a pernicious abhorrence for just about anything that dares to show even a glimpse of nuisance. So what? Hate is hate, and like deathly fire, once sparked, it will intensify as time goes on, with only [holy] water to threaten its nefarious glow.

Disclaimer: After reading this prose you will perhaps hate me, the creator of such monstrous and disreputable thoughts. Good. I hate you too. Now get out of my yard.

Only Daria understands me...

Copyright © JRFB 2012

Walking In The Snow

.

These pale flecks of frosted emotion sting

my skin (bare) when I walk

with you.

A seething so sudden, that

at first, it is unnoticeable: purely snow.

Then Cold turns to cinders - turns to

Ash; scoring, cutting, infecting

my Body with your Curse

.

I blame the snow, but I should blame

You.

The numbness in my fingers

stings from your cold spite -

.

Yet I continue, persisting on our voyage across this icy road:

My heart, once again replenished with flaming desires - childish yet

visible; today, after your bitter touch

Falls to the ground... Cracking,

Splintering with an essence of you

.

The warm face of the sun, distant and rare

Shines no more -

Not in winter, at least, whilst

.

Walking in the snow
.

Copyright © JRFB 2012