D. B. DEVILLIERS

Poetry

Tag: pain

Words For Someone Who Helped Put Words In My Head Once

oh lovely lovely
the pain I could never have presumed to imagine
because of course there do exist
people who hide it a little better than I do
or they deal with it better, feel free to pick one

suppose it’s not an awful bet to just go ahead and
assume anyone you might come across in the street or wherever has
more than likely known suffering beyond reckoning
but we get so goddamned hung up on ourselves
coroner’s summation: asphyxiation by having hanged oneself from oneself
perpetual motion sorts of self-destructive engines we might be
but we’re young enough still
like to think if I’m lucky enough to see ninety I’ll still
think I’m young enough to hope
for the next day
and oh lovely
doesn’t this world just tear you to pieces

speaking of course for myself—largely just guessing in your case
suppose I wouldn’t have minded learning to make more than a mere
guess but I am at this point not but the manner of man who I am
and I know what manner of man that is
so of course I couldn’t begin to blame you

we’ll get to that place
not together, at different points in space and time but I do
honestly believe that is a place and it’s not heaven but it’s
what we all hope and try and strive for
we won’t meet there
but there will be a great open sky and
deep red earth and on occasion the pitiless sun will
run out for a smoke break and we’ll grab a drink of water and cool in
the fleeting shade and it’ll be so breathtakingly

well

the poet makes his effort at five o
clock in the morning
and promises nothing short of honesty
and certainly not specificity

but I believe the pitiless sun will bake the earth to the
grill cover shimmer and the sky will be so awfully blue and
your paradise will not be mine but there will be love in my heart
for this thing I had to hurt so much for
to keep above ground
to keep moving
and I believe in you as well
there will be love in my heart and that must be
what we suffer for
oh lovely
that must be it.

What Peace I Know/Cynicism

It is my understanding that the
world does not very
much care about
me
which is all right, for
I do
not very
much
care about the
world
either.

This is a certain sort of
peace at which I arrived
upon the wings of
of what I’d known
to be pain
beyond reckoning,
or pain which
at least to me alone is
unreckonable.
It makes no difference.
So I wish with all the sincerity I’ve got left
no more pain, not for anyone, not ever again
and I ask you, please listen if only to this
I’m begging you, hear me, please
when I promise this:
this peace is dear to me and
I will defend it.

And so know I will burn your
skyward pulpit of paper
while you shout screaming slurred
still perched up on its summit—
it’s a righteous flame perhaps
that you’ll burn in,
but burn in it you will
to the whirling ashwhite
echo of time’s passage,
empty—
without shape or pretension;
if you aim to take from me my personal peace
making room for your hollow high
holy hegemony—
then I will with
all of my force
and my fury
drive you
down
dead
decayed
to the wastes
of eternity.

Please Understand

Please understand
that emotions
are like airborne
diseases:
one afflicted
with a virus
will not become well again
by spreading it.

A happy person’s
happiness
doesn’t diminish
when shared;
likewise,
a sad person’s
sadness
is not made
any less
sad
by making more miserable
the misery of
others.


A poem I wrote forever ago, but one I’ve always liked a lot.

 

What Time Cannot Heal

It has been long said
that time heals all things
but in my experience,
that isn’t entirely true—
you see, time does heal most things
but some wounds are stubborn
and it takes a while, but even time
sometimes loses patience
and when that happens, it’s over
for what time cannot heal,
it kills.

Kingdom of Ruin

I was a city surrounded
by colossal walls of
stone and masonry,
impervious to attack,
built when battles past
left me crumbling
but then,
you appeared on the horizon
and approached my gates
and I couldn’t turn you away.

I didn’t understand
the mistake I’d made
until I was burnt down,
when my city had already been
razed to the ground,
and you passed by the gates
never to return
again.

What remains of me
wanders these ashes,
the flames long faded,
the ruin gone cold
and I long for you.
The walls still stand
blackened but intact
defending my domain
from an enemy who’ll never again
attack.

As days become years,
I’ve come to realize
a hard, bitter truth
that I hide with false pride:
if you appeared at my gates
ever again
I’d raise them for you
and welcome you inside
to my kingdom of ruin
my dominion of dust.

I wrote this one maybe a year ago about a particularly nasty breakup. Those emotions have by now mostly faded into oblivion, of course, but I still enjoy the poem quite a lot.

Despair

I don’t think time can kill it off completely, that emotion, I mean, but the years do dull it. Maybe it’s like a blade: you can grind that edge down flat in time, but the steel—the thing itself, however impotent—still exists, and a lifetime of effort couldn’t send it into oblivion.

In Spite of Prudent Advice

If you insist upon loving me
against good advice and
for reasons I won’t pretend to understand
then, before you invest yourself in me,
I feel compelled to elucidate the reasons
for which I gave that advice—
you see, I’m quite crazy
and not in the way that most people call themselves crazy.
No, I’m really nuts,
and because of that, I’ve been known
to routinely make irrational decisions
with flagrant disregard
for whatever consequences might follow.
I’m cripplingly inconsistent
which, I am told
makes for a poor financial investment
and an even poorer emotional one.

Simply put, given past behavior,
I’ll likely continue to make
frequent and terrible mistakes
so understand that, if you choose to love me
I very well might
spurn reason and objective thought
and make some short-sighted, careless decision;
I might well eventually do
something rash and awful,
something that would doubtless leave
an irreparable crack in that mechanism by which
you and I both connect with others
and derive happiness from those connections.

To speak plainly—
if you end up loving me
odds are I’ll do something reckless and damaging
something that cannot be undone
something we’ll both regret
for a long, long time:

I might love you back.