,how do you know when
(a human is too broken?)



<•>

human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed


so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares

oh
  you
    remind
      me of a leaf  
    with each season
      you change your colour
       until one day you fall to
      the cold, bare ground
       it may seem sad, but
       you add pigment
       to the lifeless
        soil, still so
         very
            a
        l
          i
             v
                   e.

When a published poet dies,
A shooting star falls.
The universe cries
And rainbows hugs waterfalls.

When an old poet dies,
A new poet is born.
Nature lights up a million fireflies,
And a ship gives a tot on its horn.

When a young poet dies,
A Crack appears in a crystal ball.
A Fountain pen dries,
And a sad poem appears on a wall.

When an old poetess dies,
For a while the wind will cease.
Petals will fall from Lillies,
And disappear without a trace.

When a great poetess dies,
Fallen poets observe silence.
The men adorn black bow ties,
And the ladies dress in elegance.

When any poet dies,
The world loses a bright mind.
Shakespeare appears across the skies,
Waving to those of us left behind.

When a poor poet dies,
Nothing at all happens.
The world goes about its duties
He goes on to rest with other legends.


#IvanBrooksPoetry
29/7/2018

Feeling down feeling sad?
Feeling hopeless and in despair?
Feeling overwhelmed from everyday life,
Well I have a solution to make it right.
Follow my advice and be at peace,
For all you have to do is take your life.
I know what you're thinking at first,"That's insane"
But i twist your mind and make you believe,
A way out through suicide.
All you have to do is listen to me and believe in these steps,
These steps to feeling fine.

One, Life is a drag a bottom less pit,with no pleasure or joy in it, I feed you these words day and night,until you believe it without a doubt.

Two, You try to tell yourself it will work out in the end but i whisper in your other ear the suffering won't end.

Three, I keep you distant from family and friends,from much needed help that could save you.
Four, Your concentration is gone focus is impossible and I’ve deprived you of your self esteem.
Five, Everything has become hopeless and there's no way to feel better and I say to myself what a great job i've done.
Six, You lose your appetite,you cannot sleep,all of life's activities have dulled you,things that bring you joy and cheer are gone as i have robbed you.

Seven, You then can see only one end,one way to end the pain,you take aim and fire away,while thinking you've escaped the pain.

But what you didn't know was that the pain did not go away,
It now lives in the people you have left.
Now its up to me to start again
It has been a pleasure
Sincerely Mr Depression.