ontheheath: (Default)
a stranger sees beauty which familiarity often leaves undiscovered. but living in such a big city, it made no sense that I should deceive myself in thinking she hadn’t had many other lovers. still, she was the most beautiful and inventive like Hedy Lamarr; with no visible emotional scars in her eyes or intellect. and she brought out the best in me – thus no expletives in my spread spectrum.

and how could I not love
when nothing could armour me against her charm
and she was all I could think about.

because if it be true that madness is always at the door of the mind
then mine was wide open to a love so blind.

so when it failed we were quick to find
that the idea of us had been more damaging than our deeds
and we easily agreed to just leave our past behind.

besides, we figured of civilisation too, it will be said:
‘they loved humanity better than they understood it’.


© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/
ontheheath: (Default)
you’ll love

you’ll lose

and let go



then love again

and sometimes even better than before

if along the way you somehow managed to grow



but taking into account the odds

you’re bound to lose once more

however, by this time, it shouldn’t be as difficult for you to move on

but if so, then a kind of sorrow soon follows



still, as long as man lives, man hopes

and so you’ll go on

waiting for your god to grant the mate your soul longs for



© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/
ontheheath: (Default)
Been waiting so long my blood has turned cold and purple

and I feel like a lone chameleon in a fruitless passion.



You heard me calling for you, I’m sure you did…

I thought the sweet songs might pique your interest,

but it’s been years and now there’s a clot over the bleed —

the wilted four-leaf clover at the edge of this garden tells all…

the tale of not letting go.



All symptoms show a heart at desire’s end,

a passion watered down,

a spirit on its last glow

and a mind bent on letting go…

so I hope this time it’s not all vine and no taters.



© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/

Cloud Mine

Feb. 5th, 2016 05:33 pm
ontheheath: (Default)
Her cloud white sclera

was pierced through by the sublime dark centre…

Telling of a loud and bright soul somewhere

beneath all that matter….



We talked over old ties and exchanged new lies —

the kind that become truths fostered by fears…

And when time was no more we kissed…

then we danced ’til the morning, sipping corpse revivers.




© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/
ontheheath: (Default)
All that surrounds me seems well adjusted,

And the harmonious silence of the night stirs up recollections;

Wherein I hear your heartbeat.

The sweetest music, the softest drumbeat.

Remember when I used to rest my head beneath your breast with my ear

Listening to your rhythm?

When all that mattered was us,

When we risked everything;

When it was worth living.



Even these winter beaten trees still manage generosity and give me air,
So please give me something so I know you’re still there…

Because although I live, it’s for nothing if not for you…

What’s the purpose of a life of imprisoned passions?

Yet there’s hope of flowering for the tree when the seasons change,

Hope that the stars will once again light up the sky when the clouds clear.

But does that spell hope for us?



Every one seems better matched

Because you’re not next to me.

I remember you once said that if it had been me you’d have adopted my name…

Even if distance is in the way; the memories are not faded.

Just preserved…whilst I wait and hope for reunions belated and happier days.

And although the compass that brought me to you,

Is for the time being making sure you remain lost to me,

Somewhere southeast …

Know that I miss you still.



© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/
ontheheath: (Default)
When a man reminisces about old lovers,
His instincts are revived.
He considers his current prospects
And rejoices in old ‘conquests’.
There’s a beautiful nostalgia about it all
And he goes on loving even when he has ceased lusting.

Now assuming as I am…
That when a woman calls on her memory
And remembers old encounters,
She may initially delight in the triggers of that very remembrance –
Often some amusing idiosyncrasies or affectations;
But then she is forced to remember his essence –
How he had her, and how he destroyed her beautiful illusion…
So she ceases to love when her youth withers.



© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/

Red Horizon

Feb. 2nd, 2016 03:22 pm
ontheheath: (Default)
Star clusters light up the mellow dark space,

Furnishing the distant depths with a light red horizon.

The night is haunted by memory flashes of your face;

The one spark and only light I long for —

But our love has been a cold case

Since the thunder came upon,

Turning silence to noise.

So before laying it all to rest

I’ll look again to the red horizon

And watch it absorb all light and sound.



© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/
ontheheath: (Default)
Distant like the stars
We watched through the panes
Of my bedroom.

Wide as your smile
When I touched you, my hands
On your womb.

Deep as my love
Sweet pain –
Thorny bloom.

Permanent like the scars
Marked on the hearts of man –
Our blood pumping balloons.

Love lost, lust gained;
Lust lost, love gained.



© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/
ontheheath: (Default)
none too soon that her and I wanted to be alone

but the incarnate Jerome of Rome was in the room
as though there was nowhere else for him to roam

and so, a sort of passion police he’d become



© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/
ontheheath: (Default)
they’d often spotted each other on the Metrolink during weekdays, and both done their fair share of pretending not to notice, so they’d never conversed ’til that early evening.

‘I quite fancy you’ she voiced excitedly, which sent his mind into an etymological frenzy. half a dozen or so synonyms sounding in his head. he was stunned, not only by her beauty, which was even better up close – hardly the norm – but also her wily ways; and at the same time he was trying to deduce the meaning of the phrase she’d just uttered. wondering what she meant by it. whether it was just another pleasantry. he always found the terminology ambiguous despite its relatively common usage across the country. all these thoughts were instant.

he quickly replied ‘you’re so lovely’.

‘then kiss me’, she prompted – confidently.

that moment clarified it. fancy had now been defined. as if she could read his mind. so he leaned in and they kissed. but no sooner had the tram arrived at Exchange Quays than the two could even part lips.

he had arrived at his destination. but he’d also experienced a new beginning.



© Heath Muchena
http://htmm.wordpress.com/

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