An inconsequential assault

Listening to the heated words
there is no connection, no thought, no logical
reasoning that can be completed. The chain of
adjectives, nouns, verbs, adverbs are 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 cowed
acceptance. Compromise is undefined,
no agreement, no disagreement, only the words.
A verbalized water boarding of consciousness,
torturing the of inner spirit, wasting
any possibility of minimal comprehension.

“Did you hear what I said,” a mallet of angst
clubbing into oblivion the apple of truth.
Any effort to communicate is swallowed, digested,
deposited on a compost pile of the steaming
rotted past. What was will never be again,
what is said can not be forgotten,
its stench a constant mental 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 hormonal 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.

©2015, Donald Harbour

This storm without reason

When the waters of my troubled being
clash with the shores of my unresolvable doubt,
you are my rock, the granite that withstands,
the assault of this tantrum tossed sea.

There is a calming in your weathering stone,
stoic and glistening, reflecting your starlight,
sparkling with all manner of life’s crystals buried
in the depths of your perfectly smooth surface.

I cannot claim such strength, nor uphold
the soil that washes from beneath my soles,
scattering as muddied water returning from wince
it came never returning to where it began.

When the tempest subsides to placid swells
your sweet breath is that breeze of cool salted air,
refreshing, holding aloft hope on flying fish wings,
resting in the ebb tide of foam drenched quietude.

©2011, Donald Harbour