Rubies from the Heart: Dark Poetry
By Cynthia Ruby
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About this ebook
A collection of dark poems by award-winning author Cynthia Ruby, 3rd place winner of the 100,000 Poets for Change in Slam Poetry and winner of the Haiku contest the same year. This collection includes " Knowledge ", honorable mention in the 1994 Mojo Mystique literary magazine contest, and other pieces of dark poetry.
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Rubies from the Heart - Cynthia Ruby
Kid on the Carton
They keep screaming and screaming at you,
Laughing like stupid clowns at a lame birthday party for the easily amused,
Come on kid, drink the punch and kill them all,
Do a happy dance to a happy song and play with the cheap toys you found in your box of processed Frosted Flakes
Do you notice the picture of that missing kid on the milk carton?
That missing kid is you
Pick up the phone and call 1-800-THE LOST
See if the world pays attention and puts out an
All Points Bulletin
Will search parties congregate in the shopping malls of America to plaster your lost innocence over the walls with the Elmer’s Glue you get high off of?
Will shiny cars full of Sunday school pedophiles wink at you and tease you with rotten candy?
Are you gonna fall for it every time?
Are you gonna yell Stranger Danger and hope that someone comes to save you?
Or are you gonna jump in the backseat of a nondescript van and wave goodbye to the world?
Just another kid on the carton.
Halloween 2013
Quick footsteps in a chilly wind
I’m on the hunt for the ultimate prize
Sweat and heavy breathing inside the mask I wear
As I brace my knuckles for another knock on another door
Trick or treat, lady
Give me something sweet to eat.
Paying for It
Moths try to reach the light but always fail and bruise their wings over and over again.
They remind me of my futile attempts to reach you, but, just like them, I never learn.
I’m having to pay the sin tax like a poor peasant. You’re always waiting to collect until I have nothing in my hands but dirt.
I would sell my soul in exchange for another chance to grab you and beg you to wake up.
You have forgotten everything.
All things precious and beautiful, meaningful and true.
The last few coins are sneaking out of your wallet as each peaceful thought is swept away by the stubborn broom of your pride.
Preemptive Counterattack
You see me and you withdraw the gun, not wasting any time to deliberate over the perfect aim. You’re so frightened you segue into your auto defense mechanism immediately. It’s kill or be killed. You assault me with bullets of fear, but I’m not trying to hurt you. You dig yourself deeper and deeper into your foxhole of frustration as you try to shelter yourself from the impending nuclear war that is me. But, your bomb shelter is falling apart, crumbling, and shrouding you in an overload of debris. You’re still alive in there, but fading fast. Your unsteady hand reaches out. A haunting scream pleads with me to end your suffering, but only you, and you alone, can accomplish redemption. I cannot be your personal Jesus. I cannot be