Repair Your Mind! ... no more broken hearts by MARIE KAZALIA
Read More Poetry ... story from Ed Fisher by SHANE JONES

PoetryRepairShop v01.08 01.08:093
MARIE KAZALIA
no more broken hearts

I tear my men apart --
dissect them until they're little wounded beasts
and have no secrets left --
sounds like a line from some old film
about the vicious woman with no heart left
yet how did she get like that?
born into the male destructive dominance thing
and suffered so hurt
she had the most heart of all
and felt more than most
and so the myth of the black widow
and the temptress
who eats men alive --
it's quite the reverse --
they ate her heart first --
some women see this
even some men,
the women mainly have only momentary revelations
that fuel their own hurt
feelings of the injustices in society
and some of the men just romanticize
until there is nothing left --
but I've gone beyond all of that suddenly,
I don't get hurt
I just observe and learn
and do what's next


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Israel Bpath Network
Twenty-years-old I have poetry published in a few dozen publications: Conspire, PoetrySuperHighway, Pith, Unwound, Nerve Cowboy, Blind Man's Rainbow, Brown Bottle, and Art:Mag.  I have a chapbook - 23 Poems - available from Visaseptic Publications

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01.08:093
MARIE KAZALIA introduces

SHANE JONES
story from Ed Fisher

yeah, it was down at the bar that it happened.
this little guy with like really dorky glasses,
maybe he was gay or something, I don't know.
but any ways, he just kept on picking on this
huge mother fucker drinking some hard shit,
like Tequila, or something.
the little guy was just starring him down and
the big guy looked depressed or something,
maybe he was laid off work that day, because
when he got up off his stool the whole damn
place watched his move.  I thought he was
going to the shitter, or something, maybe
he was gonna go outside for a smoke, ya know?
but he looked pissed, and right
as he was going to walk by the little guy
he brought back his fist, like a wheelbarrow
of bricks, and just clocked the little guy
right across the side of the face.
the little guy feel right off his barstool
and when he tried to get up
you could see his glasses were smashed
on the side and half of his eyeball was
hanging out.  crazy shit man, real crazy shit.
the big guy just sat back down and got another
beer and for the first time that night laughed
and started to talk to some blonde next to him.
a real tough guy.


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Poem, copyright SHANE JONES (all rights reserved). Site design © 2001 by PoetryRepairShop & www.poetryrepairs.com (All Rights Reserved).
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