Hell is Indeed Other People.

Hell is indeed other people.

_____________________


"Hell is Other People"
The famous 20th century
philosopher once said.

Had he said, "hell is living
without the presence of
those you love"..
I would've been more
impressed.

Yet I do agree with his
tendency to reduce
hell to the agony of
mental states, in
conflict with others
both living and dead.

Such a thing seems
to go without being
said.

In this respect
Hell is a series
of memories replaying
endlessly within
us that we cannot
escape.

Sad Songs,
and poems
beloved, that
one hears without
remembering;
unable to feel
the comforts they
once gave!

Hell is indeed other
People; but its also
existing as a blank
slate.

(Forever a slave
to Internal Experiences,
misunderstood
by A Soul in Chains.)

j.s.h.

The Story that Her Young Face Told.

The Story that Her young face Told.


______________________________



The Story that her Young Face Told,

was brief, but several centuries Old;

A Song of Love all  Cynics hate

to hear,..which brings Damnation or

Salvation! (depending mostly on the ear.)



I saw, and listened from the odd perspective

of an Objective viewer torn; struggling between

admiration, and a sense of irony that such

Beauty was ever born.

(only to be despised by 3 parts of the World,

and by the other quarter Scorned.)



Yet never did my Bold Heart falter,

or use Loves excuse like a Desperate

crutch; as She stood upon that Soapbox

Alter! (with Sad Flowers dying at her

touch.)



So will I be content when I grow Old?

knowing the Ancient Story her Young face

told?..Or Die Aghast?!...in want of a better

hand to Hold! (than that of a Ghosts beyond

My Grasp.)



J.Stephen.H.

The Ballad of Neverending Rose. (and Constant thorn.)

.The Ballad of Never- Ending Rose .
(and Constant Thorn)
_______________________



She puts bright whispers

of her soul in every word;

they are pieces of a precious

wish to illuminate the Universe.



As I stir the Melting pot of Chaos...

deep within. (transforming

curses into Verbs.)



She Smiles in the Presence

of blue Skies,..and shouts

happy laughter at Hells Raging

Storm; as I drown in The

waters of Her Paradise!

(wearing a devil-frown Forlorn.)



She is the Neverending Rose,

I am a Constant Thorn!

Her footsteps tread Lifes

Sacred Path!

 ( I often Wish
I wasn't born.)


so
As she talks to Cherubs

in Her Dreams,

My World remains A

Nightmare Scene;

but for all of This,

(my Self -Tragedy)

I've known many

Moments Bliss!

and
since she

Loves a Fiend like Me?

(I've found Heaven
in Her Kiss.)



J.Stephen.H.