My Graffiti Heart

Gold cherry

By blighters rock

Sat, 08 Mar 2014
  • 3568 reads
12 comments
 

I have blasted it into orbit

with speedballs 

black stars

detergent sold as whizz

 

I’ve cut a thousand names into it

gasped in awe as it bled for me

I’ve bludgeoned it with toxic tools

beaten it with sticks of burning shit

held it hostage caged in smog

kicked it into police cells

and often made it sing  

to Satan in his lair

 

I have alienated it and laughed at it

lost it and loathed it

repelled it

pitied it

blamed it for all my fears and scars.

 

I have drained it

suffocated it

done everything but rip the thing out

I’ve had it do cartwheels

bounce off walls

and I even made it stop

but only for a laugh.

 

I’ve used it to trash parties

to steal love and money

to crash the beds of angels

I’ve lied to it religiously every morning

and tossed it aside whenever I got bored

 

I have subjected it to years of torment

years of pain

years of pathetic sighs

and the only time I let it recover

is when I’m asleep

yet still my graffiti heart beats.

Certificate 18
Poem
Love

Comments

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Wow! Here's to your heartbeat Blighter's, long may it hammer!          Elsie

Submitted by blighters rock on

Thanks for reading, Elsie. Good to see you're reading at the next abc night. Looking forward to meeting you

Richard

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

really enjoyed this blighters!

 

Submitted by blackjack-davey on

The first stanza sets up the heart as a chunk of rock, a meteorite in space with all its chasms and toxins, and goes on to describe one man's abusive relationship with the one thing that keeps him alive-- the one thing that he hasn't ripped out. Shockingly violent imagery like biting into a raw onion. I was whizzed off to space too, maybe space travels in our blood. The violence and the disdain for something cherished reminded me of the end of John Wilmot's The Imperfect Enjoyment.

 

Submitted by blighters rock on

Cheers Insert and BlackJack, it's a happy little ditty, isn't it. Kept thinking what an ungrateful swine I must be to write such slander but then felt like a cherub compared to Keith Richards, who has learnt to master the fine art of killing himself, using gracious nods to Satan and the power of the human will along the way.  Perhaps we're given the heart best suited for the wars we insist on having with ourselves, but I like to think of my relationship with my own heart as one of love/hate. It needs me as much as I need it, if you get my meaning. No, I love my heart. It's what I pride myself on (oops, pride's a sin...oh well, best go to bed now and give it some time off).

 

Submitted by Canonette on

The heart is deceitful above all things,
and desperately sick;
who can understand it?

Great poem Blighters.

 

 

Submitted by blighters rock on

It's a tad like playing fire putting the old thunderer down but that's a delicious trio of lines; he's a tricky master. Made me half huff and half laugh. The gut's where the truth rests quietly and only knocks it out when we ask nicely. Thanks for reading, Canonette.

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

Love the graphic imagery you've injected into this, blighters. Personifies the heart as the victim and the human as its violent mindless-headed abuser. Time to buy low cholestrol butter and olive oil, perhaps. Just thinking of that ticker.

 

Submitted by blighters rock on

Can't stand marge, Vera, but every time I have my late evening toasted snack, I worry all the more about the amount of butter I use. I think I'm on about a pack of butter a fortnight, which isn't too bad. Sometimes I even think I might just be growing up a bit. The olive oil still sits unloved, though, unless I whack a bit over the carrots in the oven (with the steak and kidney pie). I really need to start loving my heart. It's the best friend I've ever had, and there'll come a time when he gives up on me.

 

Submitted by Canonette on

That's a LOT of butter! Scrape it on, don't slice it on.  I think I'd like you to write a story about a butter addict.

 

Submitted by MJG on

I really loved the images here, fast-paced, like a heart running.

 

Submitted by blighters rock on

Hi Canonette, I'm a born slicer. Scraping's in order, though.

Hi MJG, thanks for taking a look at this. Love your description