Goodnight Seamus Heaney

Just heard about the death of the wonderful Poet, Seamus Heaney. Loved his beautiful words…they’ll live forever. If you have never read his works, I urge you to look him up.
Rest in peace old man…what a life.

Through The Eyes Of A Gun.

Impulse

desire

one hundred pounds of fire

power

raging

witness fear disengaging

rapidly

cocked

for destruction and locked

vision

entreating

bullets now excreting

cries

ringing

on deaf ears singing

words

pleading

to stop this bleeding

execution

lead

poisons desperate hearts. Dead.

The Killer

He didn’t mind
the blood on his shoes
as he waited for the train.

It was the smell.

And as he crunched the
white flesh of his apple,
He could smell hers.

It made a home in his throat.

He could feel it travel
as he swallowed,
Poisoning him,
Infecting him.

The sweetest of reminders.

Maybe he could go back.
Kiss the girl
who bled out.
Give her life.

No.

No,
She must be gone.

She was so sticky.

He never expected there to
be so much.
It erupted from her,
With every blow.

Stupid, bloody bitch.

She shouldn’t have said it.

This train is late.
And not a bin
in sight.
Unbelievable.

He kicks the core
on to the tracks and
sees her eyes,
Locked in a scream.

She was beyond terrified.

Where is this fucking train?

The poison sets in his
stomach,
With realisation.

His hands drip
with sweat,
With her blood
that he washed away.

It will never come off.

Fuck.

He runs to be sick,
Violently.
Brutally.

Again.
Again,
And again.

He misses his train.
But,
No matter.

He’ll never escape her,
Now.