Sung beneath my stars

…so it’s 6:00am, vodka knows your name and in the devils hour guilt whispers back your shame and so it is you plead, strumming fingers till they bleed, don’t you worry bout the distance
you sing between the tears. And fragments they have shattered yet you’re singing that I matter. Vodka rushes down and words begin to slur, the line that we had drawn has once again become so blurred. So you sing, songs of old and new, on the guitar that you do play you whispered on my sunrise, that our future is okay…and hey there Delilah you tell me in the dark… Hey there Delilah, you sung beneath my stars.

Karen Hayward ©2017

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When all the sorry’s of tomorrow are taken.

Photo

A burden of poison spills from your lips
truths once held become mans laborious chip, “And still they have not apologised”
I ponder who ‘they’ are and beg they
stand forward with their fellow man
and plead requital in united stand,
But alas ‘they’ do not exist
A figmant of propaganda how many times
must we say sorry for the sins of
our fathers?
My hands are clean of blood, my mind clean of hate,
And still you condemn me to the devils gate.
Poison spills from the devils lips
As you recreate little bits, history told
from the sight of the blind, for the deaf
of muted mind, so little truth there to find.
And we say show us the facts
And you say jezeebel, hinderer of truth
Lies, mudblood . . . “look how they refuse
to listen, refuse to repent for their sins”
And still I ask you show me these things.
Hate is a heavy burden for any heart,
And lest we ever forget the trampled chains of regret from a life dug in the past, we etch unity now in the minds of our crying bairns. But for all our
whispers of love you tell them of
a hate that belongs not of this time.
You twist a truth to fit a crime a minority report not yet conceived, by a future stained in the blood of your hate. Future generations stained not by history or apologies from non existent entities, futures generations destroyed by the hate of your tongue, humanities personal civil war, man on fellow man with your
propaganda proposals and
puppeteer strings, yet no one stops to
ask, from where came this mans
deathly sting.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words

I Want You to Hurt.

I want you to hurt, the same way that you hurt me.

I want your world to fall apart the same way mine did.

I want for you to question it all; the seconds, the moments,

those intimate words spoken and the soft tender kisses once felt.

I want you to know how that feels.

I want it all to turn a muted shade of grey. For the pain to be

so deep inside your soul that each new sun causes you agony

and each new moon brings you ever closer to the loneliness I felt.

I want you to explore the emptiness, like I did. I want you to

walk along those paths that no light reaches, to feel it against

your skin as it worms its way through you. As your eyes become

accustom to the shadows and you face the darkness. I want you

to become the dark nights, like I did. I want you to learn to drink

in the despair and let it intoxicate your life supply blackening

your heart to any future love, like it did mine.

Once there I do not want you

to wallow in self pity.

I do not want the dark soldiers

to devour your soul,

I simply want for you to see, like I did.

See what I saw.

I want you to understand like I did, understand the hurt, like I did,

the emptiness you left me with.

I don’t want you to be forever wondering

what was real,

what was not,

like I did.

I want you to know it is real, as I wish I could know

this for myself. I want you to let go of that past, like I did.

Leave it behind in that  dark room filled with questions and lacking in

happiness. Leave it behind and clear away that slate. To understand

is to clearly see, to see with trust to see with honesty, I want you

to understand the minutes, the days the years without you are a blur

of knowing, I want you to understand like I did.

What I want doesn’t matter and never has. I want it to matter.

I thought I did, I thought I didn’t then I did and then I didn’t.

I want you to know how that felt.

The uncertainty, those whispers that hid away the words of truth

I want you to see the damage they have done,

I want you to see the damage they can do,

I want you to understand why that path was not for me.

I want you to feel the importance of completion, like I did.

I want for you to understand, like I had to learn to.

I want you to hear the words not said and feel the kisses

not given. I want you to believe in what you cannot see and

cannot touch, like I did.

I want you to hurt, like I did. Then I can I know it was real.