Harticus De Tseer

Muster the unearthed manner
And rid the putrid healing that dwells
Within this useless fathom,
Denounce the endless sorrows
And lift the unfitting apologies,
Tread waters that shudder at your feet
Only to deepen and drown at your hands,
Touch and caress; there sleeps a reflection,
A lost soul, empty and broken,
One that begs the rain and wind where to go,
Only to be presented with hostile silence.



Allow me this instance
To excorcise the hell within
For the ever so binding
And ever so blinding
Do hold my weary heart;
It suffers and weighs heavy
In its pivital parts,
Alas, one cannot steady.

Locked in a slick environment,
Covered in layers of meaty cement;
The faint beating dies out
As time comes about.

A mind so fragile and vast,
Do one’s thoughts dance
Through a valley of chance?
Could this be what tales call
‘The world we live in’?
Perhaps, maybe,
Such thoughts, so changing,
So implicit;

A life of a man had bestowed upon
Many treasures that are now gone.

Sentia Talviotus

This mind, this heart,
The very one you tore apart,
Allow me to take the spotlight,
Yes, the limelight;
Take a seat,
For I will not miss a beat:

I’ve read your recent poems,
The first three, or four, all of them,
And I ought to keep civilised,
So I shall, as advised.

Opinions; such things that irritate us,
Despite our own desires to get lost
In the faux-professionale of critque:
Listen, for I shall speak.

Your self-indulgence, your self-pity,
The guilt and all-so-witty;
The techniques you borrow to maintain,
Thrive and of course, sustain
That little macroscopic germ of honesty
You tame and stroke in your fingertips
In the name of poetry.

Was it the game you lost?
A cup that’s half empty?
Who’s choice was it at heart’s cost?
Perhaps all in time; the all-so-lovely.
Your words against mine; peripheral?
Perennial? Somewhat ‘apocryphal‘?
All these moves, so delighted,
And let’s not forget the ‘sighted‘.

Now you get an internal facelift.
The ‘Queen of Hearts’ card, so jaded.
You’re delighted, so the results claim;
Well done, you’ve broken the chains,
But I recognise familiar cracks in your words,
Notice; you’re still under the curse.

You reckon you’re a sovereign,
But deep down you’re still suffering;
Let alone the doubtless selflessness
That ruptures behind that crack in the wall,

But let it be known to your jaded heart,
You have forgotten the art
of vengeance.


A beautiful summer’s storm,
Night-time’s fantasy, a warm
water’s paramour,
Mind’s hands caress over undefined

Selfless and selfish, I do repent
From my unlettered, unearned
charm –
Whisk me away, into another lovely day,
You, my love: the white dove,
Fall, free-flow below,
Kiss your dreams,
Embrace the dark;
Cover your putrid aroma, your body;
the aptness of a lover’s watch.

Timely patience and ignorant desperation,
Let the thunder fill your heart to the brim
Of greatest delight and deepest sorrow,
Mourn the ghost that possessed your heart
And haunt your hourly slumber,

Let memory become your closest asset,
Hold its hand tight and remain solemn;
The sombre symphonies cheer on the fall
of a recovering empire.

The utterance of wordly mountains
Fill my tatty heart to the hilt,
So much that I choke upon nothing
But air. I long for the rapture
That brings me life;
I beg for that saviour
Who hears my very call
And sends a miracle to my thick
Purple and scarlet hands;
There, I shall kneel in its splendor
And thank what time has presented me.

L’odaat Heïm

My eyes draw upon yours; I no longer
See the guiding light that was once mine;
My faith: a forsaken oath,
Now one I loathe

Their words tattooed in my veins,
The monster within breaks his chains,
Lashing and gnashing,
All the walls, crumbling and crashing.

Your dubious assurances, your sick words;
All you foul insidious bastards;
Who am I in the light of your eyes?
A dolt? A thief among the lies?
Perhaps a worm, so far down in the ground
Far from grief, far from its resound.

Sick of your judgements, sick of your tears,
Force the bile into your throats, fuel the fears;
Forget escape, your time begins here:

I will make you bleed,
I will make you plead,
I will make you scream
Until the oxygen leaves your bloodstream.

I will break and tear you apart,
I will twist and strain your hearts,
Snap them; whip and cut,
My, what luck you’ve struck.

Tear yourself from your vanity and pride,
Take your thoughts and your social divide,
Swallow your words along with your tongue,
All these disgusting assertions are far from done,
Face me, look at me with eyes that scream fear,
I promise you the very worst, my dear.
Choke upon the lies that you spewed from red lips,
Take your pen and paper, the pages of your scripts,
Trip on every promise you made me,
Fall to the ground and break your knees,
Let the sun burn and dry you out,
Let the world see what you’re all about.
Let the night wind haunt you,
So that my words penetrate you.

Smear and smudge the bloody colours
From your face, forget all the others;
Sit up straight and look at me:
I laugh and scorn your pompous vanity;

Bound your mouth shut,
Stitch it closed, let the needle jut.
Scower and scramble in a dreaded circle,
One foot nailed down; the other bruised purple,
My words on your wrists,
The bruises on her hips,
The taste of his own blood,
The other, dead and buried in the mud.

I am revenge; the anguish,
The boy you laughed at and pushed,
Now a man; a weapon of mass destruction,
Your foe, an obstruction.

Hate them, hate him;
Hate me, hate mine:

L’odaat Heïm.

La Toleria di Amantoris

Let this be known to [your] ignorant hearts,
Your foolish imaginations and snickering
Cannot understand the extent of this damnation,
This agonising anguish; the restlessness and descent
Into the dark depths of despair.

Your mockery will be the death of you,
Let another shatter your hopes and dreams,
Let another slip from your fingers like the tainted water
That you so happily consume.

Let it be known to your selfish hearts
That one day you will be ripped from your roots,
Torn from your sanity,
Bleed the bruising purples and reds;

I speak for lesser and greater,
The extent of this emotion tremours
Two aching hearts that remain pining
For that amending fixture

Bestow your fruitless fancies;
For words cannot explain the possession
That embraces our hearts;
Like the empty causes – let our pains
Be your entertainment;
Because one will and foresee to rip
Through your chests;

We will stand hand in hand
Over the apocalypse;
Where ashes fall like the northern rain,
And flames that flicker which represent
Our hearts;

Hear me now, your mockery of something
So powerful will bring a greater fate
To your foolish and sickening pride;
Pray a God steals your one true possession
And banish it from your undeserving hands,
Let His wrath emasculate your pompous glory
And throw you into my bloody hands;
I will ferociously strangle your pathetic words
From your throat, and let your pleas bleed
Through your teeth; then, I will render your
Mind and soul, limb from limb
So that you will suffer every angle of
This pain.

Let it be known that none of you
Will understand the distance
Between two similar worlds;
Young or not, there lies the literal
And metaphorical motif,
You selfish unruling bastards.

Adieu, Billet-Doux

Let there be a God who knows
What these open scars show,
Let Him know that I swear on every lost soul
That there would be no other that could shawl
My withering  heart into darkness;
But let Him know that we are not sinners,
No, let Him see the tears that shimmer
Under the flickering bulb while reaching hands
Stretch towards His guiding light;
Pray, my love, may we meet in another life;
Let our souls’ hands hold and entwine
For our love will remain divine,
Live forever,
Guide and deliver:
Beau geste.

May you be a stranger and read upon this tale,
Hear a voice so bold, yet a mind so frail,
A ghost haunting among these words;
Cursed, perhaps: another learns,
Forgive us for wailing our woes,
For we, He, another, they, know
Our journey did not end
So conventionally tragic.

May you be my lover, reading upon this billet-doux;
Let my words not hurt, harm or shatter you,
See these words from your lover’s façade;
He leaves all his faith and good will in you,
He leaves all the luck you will seek for the tasks to come,
Let him never leave your side, let his spirit remain in your heart,
Let his phantom embrace and cherish you forever;

Because I swear on this tatty heart,
That even though we’re apart,
We leave brokenly into the hole;
Stammering: khinti y’ov vole.

You will remain alive in words,
You will remain in my world,
You will breathe within the paint,
You will forever be my saint.

This is my billet-doux,
My contre-coup,

Adieu, Bijou,

Love Matheiú x