Heart Book 6

a sticky sticky red heart
mum told him to be careful with it
don’t u go getting that everywhere now
i won’t get u another one

a messy sticky little red heart
he shouldn’t have got one in the first place
‘cause it made SUCH a mess

he got it all over the lounge
big sweet sticky stains that we’ll never get out

and then wherever he crawled
he left little sticky red drops behind him

it made a mess of the nice clean white walls
little red handprints and patches
all up & down the hallway

it even got on the dog
who hated having baths
even at the best of times

just one big sticky mess
we’re never gunna get it all out
just knew it would happen
i just knew

Heart Book 5

And then the little heart would start its walking
it would always be walking
those little limbs would get so sore
so mangled
but there would always be the walking

throughout everything that would happen the walking
thru the many cities always walking
in the brothels walking
even when sleeping the walking
with friends alone with other hearts it won’t know

walking walking walking
like some sort of punishment
one foot & then the other
this is what it would do
only this even with all the other things
just this
only walking
walking

but that’s a story to be told another time

Heart Book 4

AND THEN WITH DEVASTATING CERTAINTY SHE REALISED THAT SHE’D NEVER GET IT BACK AND THAT SHE WOULD ALWAYS WALK AROUND WITH THIS DEAD UNBEATING CHASM AT HER CENTRE

if it clears up, it’d be a great day for the beach.


(d) as our little hero stepped out of the door and onto the footpath, he could never have known where this action would take him.


SHE SAW HER ENTIRE EXISTENCE CRASHING DOWN AROUND HER IN AN UNENDING CATACLYSMIC FURY

bread rolls
shampoo
glad wrap
spaghetti
fruit
milk

Heart Book 3...this is really 2 pages which should be read side by side, but u can't really do that here

When i woke up this morning it took a while for me to click on to the fact that something weird had happened.

woke morning click weird happened

It was only once i was in the shower that i realised that something was missing.

missing
something
something was missing


(spoken in a lilting, singsong voice)
o he woke he woke
yes this he spoke
he woke up in the morning

he spoke no joke
when he thus spoke
he woke when day was dawning

It seemed like there was this big hole in my chest, and when i felt around with my hand; it was like i couldn’t feel my heart

he woke he woke

Like my heart had jumped out of my mouth or something.

he woke up in the morning






We see the red figures of the alarm clock click over from 7:59 to 8:00

He wakes with a yawn, stretches, turns off the alarm, and clambers slowly, sleepily, out of bed.

Cut to the shower, where we see him stop, midway through his soaping routine, to feel his chest with his right hand.





(we hear a children’s rhyme spoken in a lilting, singsong voice)









Close up of his face, which is steadily growing ever more disheartened.

Heart Book 2

(a) Once upon a time there was this little heart.
(b) Now this heart was like any other little heart you’d ever be likely to meet
[consisting of the following parts
- 2 limbs suitable for the propulsion of the organism in the direction of its goals
- 2 limbs whose major functions seemed to be those of grasping and manipulating
- 1 head with various organs for seeing, hearing, etc.
- various viscera and organs with varied functions and appearances]
(c) But on the very day in question, something very special – and yes, unexpected – happened to our little hero…

o little hearts should know their place
their place
little hearts should know their place
if they don’t wanna face disgrace
disgrace
they all should know their place

Heart Book 1...the formatting fux it up a bit tho

9 entries found for heart.
heart ( P ) Pronunciation Key (h?t)n.
Anatomy.
The chambered muscular organ in vertebrates that pumps blood received from the veins into the arteries, thereby maintaining the flow of blood through the entire circulatory system.
A similarly functioning structure in invertebrates.
The area that is the approximate location of the heart in the body; the breast.

The vital center and source of one's being, emotions, and sensibilities.
The repository of one's deepest and sincerest feelings and beliefs: an appeal from the heart; a subject dear to her heart.
The seat of the intellect or imagination: the worst atrocities the human heart could devise.

Emotional constitution, basic disposition, or character: a man after my own heart.
One's prevailing mood or current inclination: We were light of heart.

Capacity for sympathy or generosity; compassion: a leader who seems to have no heart.
Love; affection: The child won my heart.

Courage; resolution; fortitude: The soldiers lost heart and retreated.
The firmness of will or the callousness required to carry out

Heart Book

hey people

the next few entries will be from a sequence of poems called the Heart Book.
hope u like em

NABI

a sleek and supple thought
sliding easily along the edges of what is known

independent
but wise enough to know how much love she needs

she ingratiates herself into the exact centre of comfort
and then screams out her unfixability to the night

her eyes are always bright
and she has claws as well as sheaths

the airport had been swimming in both their visions for years now
until one day everything else just seemed to sink out of view

it came to fill up everything

knowledge of excess baggage
was what started the tears
& now they fall on forever

they filled the airport with their salt
washed everything with their taste
he liked the way their acid started to bight into skin

soon the whole airport was awash
everything they talked about
began to merge with the waters
& slowly float away on its tide

everything’s becoming their tears

they look infinitely happy
and my name is 천상병
ch’eon sang byoung
looking out at the kids playing
on the rubble of my country
in a language and way never mine

they look infinitely happy

as i climb back up to heaven
천원 in my hand
a thousand korean won
laughing at that miracle
crying at my pain
they look more happy than can be counted

it was beautiful…

Anniversary Night

i just can’t help myself
words fly from me in daggers
never thinking of where they hit
just enjoying the fact that i have the power to throw them

& when u ran from them
i chewed on some gum
but it dissolved
as did u’r carlights
into the dark where i live

i’ve taken to reading
bukowski

war all the time

i don’t deserve what they have
[page 41]

& i want to
want to
keep it that way

but

that little girl climbing the steps up 2 the platform this morning
she’d just learnt how 2 do it
her beautiful little skirt
her sensible scarf that guarded against the wind

hmmm…

such a good father
u cd tell just by looking at them

she was so beautiful that little girl

i cdn’t stop looking at her
kept on smiling like an idiot
til i started 2 feel like a pervert

& thought i’d better pretend 2 read my serious book on semiotics

d's bday poem 1

i want 2 give u something
give u a birthday poem

i want something that comes from me
that will become u’r own

it’s not simple to give u something like this
words beating their own tune
because of u

it would make me proud
if they could move you
entangle within u
& become part of what makes u up

so one day i’ll write u that birthday poem
a gift

& then maybe we’ll see.

d's bday poem 2

i went looking for some posies for poems
went out with the wind, looking for the flowers everywhere
so i could knock on your door one day
with that bunch of posy poems
behind my back
& surprise you out of your sorrow

i looked in my neighbours’ gardens for them
during weekdays so they wouldn’t see me

i did a google search to find out where they could maybe grow

i asked hard tired oldman florists if they had any
noone knew what i was talking about

but i know that somewhere in a corner
under a bush
little bunches of these poems can be found

& when i hunt them out, their heads nodding above the sharpness of shit & soil
i’ll pick wild bunches for you & cover your life with their gaudy silly
brightness of joy

i’ll hand them to you & they’ll stay with you

their glow will be your glow

& your glow our glow

grrrr

This entry is set aside for me to have a bitch.
U c, the problem with this blog is that it enforces its format on my poems quite aggresively. Usually, my poems are spread across the page, but here all my lines start flush up against the left margin. Sigh.
The best I can do is warn you about that, and if you are interested enough about a poem, u can email me to request the poem as it was intended to be set out (mrgiles69@gmail.com). All requests will be thoughtfully and speedily processed by our happy and helpful staff.
There's a lot that could be said about the ways in which computers write poems these days, using this as just one example. This could be pursued from a number of different angles: from the way the rhythms, sounds and lights of the word processor affect the composition process, to things like the formats of poems possible on computers, things like spell check and auto-correct, and even programs that generate new forms of poems. But I digress. This was meant to be about me having a whinge. Sorry about that.
If anyone has any ideas about this, please let me know!

I want a poem as beautiful
as a serious little child in a pram
tucked in safely in red from the cool wind
at turns laughing and crying with surprise

and

-if it's not too much to ask-

i would also like to be that poem

welcome...well, come!

Hey people,

I'd like to take this opportunity to welcum u 2 my blog. It's taken a lot of heart-ache and pain to achieve, but, finally, it is here. well actually, it took about 5 minutes, but they were a painful 5 minutes.

This place is pretty much just a space for me to put my poems on the internet. I dunno too much about copyright etc, all i can ask is for u guys to be nice to me and not to steal my shit. when i say "my", i mean that they came thru my pen, so i kinda feel an affinity with em.

anyways, please enjoy them!

paul