1 Topic by Peatle Jville (edited by Peatle Jville 2020-09-26 05:14:07)

  • Registered: 2015-07-31
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Topic: Blurred Private Hell

A lady I know told me about a murder and the two people involved. One of them is her sister and the other her brother in-law. Here is my poem about what she told me.                             

                                               Blurred Private Hell

Sometimes he has an image in his head of how he wants things to be.

It’s quiet a clear picture inside his head.

Somehow, he hasn’t got the courage to put it all together and show it to the world.

He has a way of pointing out peoples faults and humiliating them while maintaining his own sense of false power and control which is not too endearing.

He wants something but he’s not prepared to do it for himself.

All he presents is a blurred picture in the hope that someone else will make it stronger for him.

All it Is.

Is a blurred image which comes out as blurred memories.

Blurred hopes.

Nothing that you can clearly see.

Somewhere in there is a forest but you can’t see the trees.

You just can barely make out the road he wants to travel.

You know there is somewhere he wants to head to.

He hasn’t got the courage to colour it in for himself.

Is he being secretive?

Is he being private?

His better half.

She is a bulldozer on the streets of life.

Inside her tough exterior hides a hurt little girl.

His words cut her deep.

In the  night in his sleep her gun comes out.

Fully loaded pointed at his sleeping head.

There is this loud explosion.

  • From: The Land Of Song
  • Registered: 2007-12-10
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Re: Blurred Private Hell

Peatle...
I always pictured New Zealand as the land of milk and honey. Hobbits and people running round making Beatles documentaries!
This poem is frightening! The victim is a preditor while the killer maybe one of the victims?
A great piece of writing, you got into their heads. Bravo.     

Ask not what Chordie can do for you, but what you can do for Chordie.

Phill Williams's Website

3 Reply by Peatle Jville (edited by Peatle Jville 2020-09-26 09:08:33)

  • Registered: 2015-07-31
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Re: Blurred Private Hell

Cheers Phill the lady who told me about her sister story is from the UK originally. The murder happened over in the USA many years back after her sister and brother in-law moved there. Apparently her brother in-law had a terrible inferiority complex every time he got passed over for a promotion he would go home and be hell to live with. His work  colleagues and friends after his death apparently said when he drank alcohol he would become horrible and abusive. Apparently he aspired also to be an actor but never got anywhere with it because many times he never got passed the audition. When he was rejected for a roll apparently he would be hard to live with while brooding over not getting parts. Then if he got the part he would get sacked for turning up drunk or just decide himself that the part wasn't for him and walk out. Apparently when sober he was meek and mild. This story was told to me by this lady when I was talking to her recently up until then I hadn't heard about this sad thing that had happened in her family. As far as NZ being a place of  milk and honey. It is a laid back country but also we have an underbelly around drug addiction high youth suicide rates. There are murders but generally it is a safe place to live.

  • TIGLJK
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Re: Blurred Private Hell

Peatle,
Hopefully they had no children to witness or endure.  What a sad atmosphere to have to live in. I guess there came a point of "no more" and the alternative was more appealing than continuing. A very sad story put into an excellent poem. 
It is astonishing to realize what many people have to live with day in and day out, yet try to paint pictures of normalcy for the world to see.   This story could've been the backdrop for the song I just wrote the other day and posted here - Thunderstorms and earthquakes beneath her sky of blue.
In the meantime, some people think their lives are sooooo terrible b/c the their cell phone battery died.
Thanks for sharing. a terrific , but exceeding sad, sad poem.


Jim     

Your vision is not limited by what your eye can see, but what your mind can imagine.
Make your life count, and the world will be a better place because you tried.

"Use the talents you possess, for the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except only the the best." - Henry Van Dyke

5 Reply by Peatle Jville (edited by Peatle Jville 2020-09-26 11:42:04)

  • Registered: 2015-07-31
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Re: Blurred Private Hell

Cheers Jim what I gathered from what she told me is they had a very young girl who was adopted by an extended family member. She has grown up and has a good life.  The sister was released from jail on parole after doing 20 something years . She was allowed to live  in a   small town where  she  apparently  had a good job and died of natural causes  a number of years after being released from jail.

  • TIGLJK
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Re: Blurred Private Hell

Sounds like a good ending to a  troubled life     

Your vision is not limited by what your eye can see, but what your mind can imagine.
Make your life count, and the world will be a better place because you tried.

"Use the talents you possess, for the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except only the the best." - Henry Van Dyke

7 Reply by Peatle Jville (edited by Peatle Jville 2020-09-26 23:21:06)

  • Registered: 2015-07-31
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Re: Blurred Private Hell

TIGLJK wrote:

Sounds like a good ending to a  troubled life

Even after hearing this ladies family story I have had a lot questions come into my head. Questions like when did the young girl become aware her mother was in prison for her fathers death and things like that. Originally I started out writing a song,  How Do You Tell Your Children, Nana killed Grandpa". It sounded corny and didn't work that's when  I went down the track of a poem. Though I would like to talk to her more about this subject I wont unless she brings it up as I feel its not appropriate thing for me to do,. In  a strange way I wanted the poem to leave people thinking what's next.