R.S. Heartsmith Blog

the click and the whir the beat of the drum eager emotions are stirred for the sake of good fun then comes a step and a half after that the feel of something wet and the devil breathing down my back He says, "watch this" as another flies right past "reach out your hand, this chance will not last" Then I reach out and I grasp and my claws they sink they grip and they gasp The devil had won and there was a price to be paid crushed by the weight of expectations unmade The battle was lost but the war was not yet because even if the devil never tempted me I still would have said yes In some ways, he's just like an old friend showing you things you wish would really end And at times, he's the enemy you find something to fight when life doesn't rhyme Most of all, he's a challenge to beat a mountain to climb when the world sings of defeat He's a rival of mine The biggest I know And I'll get up in his face and say "I'm better than your hope....

Love is a fickle, funny thing We dress it with candy and show it with rings Everybody wants it but won't let it breathe We're given a picture one shining and white A warm bubbly mixture Full of laughing and lights But love isn't a scheduled tincture it comes in odd shapes maybe a weird size Love isn't a formula Enacted with care It's a fluid, living motion not some cross one must bear But all too often love is confused for pain treated like a burden and left in the rain And the love will get soaked No - it'll be drenched It lingers - stinging and cold Left to freeze on a bench The love will go numb tired of pain it would rather let go of than give up it's name But if it holds on the love will one day freeze it'll crack and then shatter it will really fucking bleed.

Where strength meets sorrow And joy feels pain Let it flow Where silence meets comfort And sorrow turns to flames Let it go When loves stays burning And fear runs away Welcome home Where everything goes And love always stays

The cards we get handed are always a mess shuffled and scattered bent, torn, and then ripped But when you find all the pieces and just tape them back on smooth out the edges, and the cards become one Before long, you have a full deck complete with the good cards and yes, all the bad Because even with each card working right you can be dealt a bad hand and be consumed by luck's spite Yet, even when drawing the worst set of black cards they can be played to perfection with some patience and smarts Here's what they don't say about a string of bad luck Once you've trudged through the trenches all that's left is the good stuff Keep going don't you dare give up It won't be long, 'til you look back Proud of all you have done

The glance of an eye or the hum of the soul Neither ask to be heard yet hold hues rather bold Being loud doesn't last It's BOOM - in you face It's a flash in the pan It's a loom losing lace And in that moment When loud is all you have It's the silence that whispers Maybe the suffering wasn't so bad

I find myself lost in thoughts about you seemingly so desperate as our meeting's brand new A voice so sweet I want it to sing me a tune A whisper so soft I want to give my love to you I think about hair as it runs down your face And the glasses that shape the way your image stays  Don't call me crazy or even obsessed I liked it when our souls met and I want them to meet again Maybe I've lost it maybe I'm insane but either way it goes I hope that fate wins

Why do humans worship? They worship for money and for health to keep hope alive and their families well They worship to belong they worship to sing songs  they worship because their days drag on and on They worship for comfort they worship for peace they worship because they're already down on their knees They worship so they don't have to feel all alone They worship because it's all they've ever known They worship to know they worship to forget they worship because they lost some odd bet They worship because they know They worship because they don't They worship because they cannot forget but what happens when They worship out of control? They worship something that isn't quite old They worship something thought of by men and carefully crafted by the works of human hands they worship something bigger than us the sum of our knowledge The weight of our trust They worship an idol crafted from human gold because it looks really shiny and even does what it's tol...

  He takes one step his ticket clenched "Not long now,  only 4,457 left" The winding line seemed to stretch Forever long into the distance The longer he waited, the more his stomach wrenched "But the line is still moving" that's what he said "I'll get there eventually, this line has to end" Another step another breath But when he look at his ticket It read, "4, 459 left" He stared at his ticket awestruck and amazed Feeling he'd been cheated Knowing he'd been played He throws his ticket down and walks his own way. Free from the future That said he has to wait.