Firebomb

I’ve got a firebomb

High in the heavens

With it hanging there

Life is a trip

Hoping for the worst

Always getting the best

This poem is for the sad guy

The guy playing

His broken accordion

Playing to our fears

The little madman

Some of us a shadows

Some of us are melodies

All of us miss the lunacy

And so the bomb drops

And the tune stops

And I’m relieved

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Mother?

Mother?

Do we all go

To hell

Before

We die?

 

My darling

You were gifted

To hell

Before

I even gave birth to you

 

Why, mother?

 

Because my sweetheart

A blessing

Would have been

Far

Too good for you

 

© 2019 Arron Hickman (The Harlequin Heart)

To That Lonely Dove

Were you stuck

In Neverland

That day you lost him

When you said goodnight

To that lonely dove

 

Your honesty

Won that day

Even when coming

Face-to-face

With your own dead-end

 

Unbound from grief

Only sorrow was the drug

You flew past it

Flying onwards

Towards his holy acceptance

 

© 2019 Arron Hickman (The Harlequin Heart)