The Hideous Heretic Heart

This came out of nowhere. I hope you like it. As always inspired by whom I would call my muse.

As humans living in solid labeled steel cocoons

We dance and sing and love to swoon

To the lover, mother, or another’s tune

So pitiful, so hurtful, we stay locked in our rooms


We love to hate others for misguided statements

And learn to hate those who love prose abated

And listen to songs from Le Mis

For you and I are one and the same

Struggling for love, job and someone with a brain


We two are communicating right now you see

Although this was written and seen for the first time only by me

Are we so blinded by rage of the muse in a cage that our senses are dull and cut dim

Elected by lovers who left for others their uncivil serpent called best?

But for those who still do like an uncertain loon, insanity brings her out of her nest.


I, unlike my muse, cannot live locked in a cage of my carefully crafted self deceit

Nor can I hide my hideous heretic heart for whom it beats

For it moves like the bell tolls for the last death in winter

Lying in the bed made of wooden tear stained pine

My hideous excommunicated heart may be torn in two per piece


Words leap out of it like wine for the steady drinker

Who follows the verse and begs to meet the one whose cursed hideous heretic heart, maligned still beats

For someone he or she may not be able to have

Someone he or she may not want to have

Someone for whom this hideous heretic heart should not beat.

The End

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