The Moon, an Anger and a Sadness

The Anger suddenly builds!
There’s no way to let it out.
Who would I let it out on:
On Him, on Fact, on Me, on Doubt?

I have spent the Sadness
All that I had to give,
Now I burst with Anger
That doesn’t want to forgive.

The Moon laughs at me,
She who I know so well;
How this story will end,
Even she can foretell.

I turn away from her, too,
She who has been a friend;
She is no longer someone
On whom I can depend.

Like most of the hearts
To whom I gave my love,
She lies far away,
In an unreachable above.

I have nothing to offer,
I have nothing more to say,
When heartbreak comes calling,
I’ll let him have his way.

I had such hopes,
Such hopes had I,
I had tried so hard,
How hard I still try;

But it all comes to nought,
I have no more of me to give,
So all I can do is love,
All I get to do is live.

I am angry for a reason;
But reasons are no excuse;
No one wishes to learn;
Everyone has their own views.

I ramble on and I rant and rave,
I have tried it all, you see;
I am angry now, but in a while,
I’ll bear each end willingly.

The Road Goes On

how quickly lives can touch,
it does not take much time,
Just a bit of love, not much,
that molds a heart to mine;

there is a quaint sadness,
when time’s not on your side,
mixed with a strange gladness,
hope left behind to bide;

the road goes on, as does time,
hope moves on, the heart aches,
love promises the sublime,
but seldom gives what it takes…

Those books, those films, those stories and those songs

Those books, those films, those stories and those songs

Convinced us how love in life belongs.

They made us sops look for it all over:

Hope to look for it in four leaf clovers.

They never mentioned what to do after –

When the tears slyly kill the laughter,

When the stars and moon blot out and die,

When we glean every one was a lie.

They never talk of love’s staying in lease,

Or of death, or of pain, or of disease;

They never mentioned how love loses faith,

How it doesn’t need another love to mate.

 

Maybe, I am to blame for I looked away,

From the books, films, songs that had this to say.

 

I realize now what love’s true nature is:

Unjust quotients of sadness and bliss,

A ruse to reproduce before you get forlorn,

With nothing to do once the kids are gone.

Of this I’m sure: after all the cheating,

Although love leaves, the heart keeps on beating.