. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Monday, March 22, 2010

False Hope from Outer Space

When it seems like your heart is dismembered and in a thousand tiny pieces of its former self, you look for all kinds of things to blame and take your frustration out on. This was one of those...

Oh Little Prince,
Tiny Chimney Sweep,
How wrong you were,
So wrong to say that all that matters
    is of the heart.

Isolated and alone in your starry kingdom,
You could not have imagined
    ambition, provision, stability, action.
What is essential is more than invisible.
More than caring.
It needs to be seen with the eye,
    for it is otherwise insubstantial.

Who am I to tame anything?
I wrote your words down in a yellow note pad
    and in my soul.
You spoke only of the heart, heart, heart.
I was foolish to believe you
But it felt so admirable.
How could you have known?

Isn't it apparent that love is not enough?
Too late, Little Prince.
I will spend the rest of my life forgetting you.

It's so easy to love a flower,
you bastard,
    when she can't walk away and break your heart.




  1. if you do not, however, care for your flower... it wilts away and dies.

  2. An insight one does not sometimes see in the midst of the heartache, or in the inspiration of the poem, but which is nonetheless clear in the aftermath. Maybe I'll write an addendum poem someday.