Listening to the heated words
there is no connection, no thought, no cognitive
reasoning that can be completed. The chain of
adjectives, nouns, verbs, adverbs: just the
punctuated construct of melodrama yelled,
screamed, blathered and blurted
in the audible range of everyone’s hearing.
The moment is oppressive, hot,
the mind boxed into a submission of
recognition. Compromise is undefined,
no agreement, no disagreement, only the words.
A verbalized water boarding of consciousness,
torturing the inner spirit, wasting
any possibility of minimal comprehension.
“Did you hear what I said?” There it is , an angst mallet
clubbing into oblivion the glimmer of understanding.
Any effort to communicate is swallowed, digested,
deposited on a compost pile of the steaming
rotted illogical thought. What was will never be again.
What is said, scribed onto the inner cavity of the skull,
can not be forgotten. Its stench a constant reminder.
“I’ve said all I going to say.” Ahhh relief,
reprieve from the incessant diatribe of an
emotional downpour disappearing into a sea
of PMS insanity. The ocean is once again placid,
serene, gently rocking life’s fragile boat until
the next storm looms over a tomorrow horizon.
Careful, monsters cruise just below the surface.
Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 