Heart On A Sleeve

HEART ON A SLEEVE.

 

Put some iron on the wound.

The smell of blood will surely put you through

The pain from the stain that’s been festering in you.

 

Do you wonder which parts are true?

 

Melancholy smiles of the blackest blues

That play the heart strings a rapturous tune.

 

Or the simple pleasures that bring the crisis to bloom.

 

Or the way that you see others smiling and free

Come together and just be.

 

…the musings of a fool.

 

Roll away, roll away the dew.

This god-damned romance is just covering you

Just like the heartache when your lover comes unglued

Worked and jaded from the line you drew

 

Waiting

To come around.

 

 

Come around.

Wade to this side of the pool.

Come around

to the deep side of the fool.

 

Honestly, have you ever loved anyone deeper

That the one you loved before?

Have you never wanted more

Than to love the one that you adore?

 

Will there ever be a reprieve?

Wearing your heart on a sleeve.

 

Is there a false from a true?

Is there a me and a you?

 

These are the questions you surely go through.

Not to mention the pain

Once again –

 

Would you like a little salt on the wound?

Maybe a little deeper

Maybe some more room

To squirm and to thrash in the deepening ash

That fills the hole in your tormenting soul.

That spills onto everyone you know

Waiting to come around…

 

Just one flick of the tongue.

Makes you feel like you’re young again.

Just one finger in the hole.

It comes up stripped down to the bone.

Then you’re reminded of when you’re alone

Never minding who is there or how you’ve grown

Or how unselfishly they’ve invested all their energy

For you –

 

Only human is the musings of a fool.

 

One step forward two steps back.

Never quite knowing where your love is at.

Blindly reaching for a heart attack.

 

Honestly.

_____

2008/2019 Lance A. Kair


 

painted_heart_on_sleeve_by_narakafurin

Image courtesy of S Lynn Knight🎈 “heart on a sleeve”.

The Object of the Subject is available to you now.

THE OBJECT of the SUBJECT: The Second Part. EPUB version available now.

— if everything went good.

“The Philosophical Hack uses Slavoj Zizek’s book ‘Event’ as a platform from which to hack into philosophy. A hack is someone who is adept in technology and standard methods but is not employed to make marketed products. Yet in another sense, a hack is a repeated application of a specific yet broad algorithmic protocol upon a closed problematic space. The role of the hack is at once to disrupt and to consolidate. The hack is a check on the security of closed functional systems, as well as the impetus for their growth. Defining this problematic space through a careful assault on weak points in the philosophical facade, Nathaniel offers us a way into a science of philosophy. Mr. Nathaniel is writing to a wide intelligent audience in such a way that the philosophical mind will not be ostracized but will indeed be challenged. It is indeed a philosophical hack.”

In more ways than one, the object of the subject is available now.

The Philosophical Hack is a book that will be served over six courses, for easier digestion. Expect The Third Part in 2020. 

The Philosopher.

The philosopher is like an arrow cutting through the air.

or rather –

 

A snake slicing along the surface of a river.

The truth calls the philosopher.

But until it is found, she is like a pebble thrown into the water.

The wakes echoing forth, back and away in all directions, her presence the ripple for the moment, the significance like the rain drop, fades away in dissipation of the wash, while her self sinks and dissolves.

           A transcendental nobility.

 

Yet before this and after, but never while,

The Truth is found, and the philosopher is pulled up the stream.

She does not sink, but swims, floats, slips, buoyant.

The shallow draft carries small value,

with purpose, with determination.

Effortless.

 

The truth calls. And called.

The opinions vary in the concentric interferences.

She is not distracted and never beached,

The swells and rapids only occasion her indecision and resolve.

The rocks interesting siestas.

The shore never beckons.

 


 

c.2017 Lance Allan Kair.