I've written all my life, it's helped me to not go totally psychotic... Been held down by words of others; Battered by accusations; drug under by drugs and drinking, and still, my empire is on fire, and I stand atop. This victory, is mine. I Stand Above.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Standing the middle of a room,
playing a razor blade
over veins
Like you would with a bow -
over the strings of a violin
But the chords you play
are screams of pain
these songs you make
are violent
Leave me silenced
Yet here, in one place; I stay
Sitting in the corner, watching
Letting the skin slip over my eyes
I won't look.
I won't look.
I can't stay.
I'd get up and walk away
If it weren't for these pins in my legs
Nails through the hands
This corner, my crucifix
My head can only hang
These place,
These in-betweens
Enjoyed in silence
And engaged by all means
Strung
Stuck
Back in a corner
"into your corner"
where two walls meet is silence
The other two walls, a grave
The door that stands wide open
Could be the only way
to get saved....
Still, we remain....
(holding in breath; screaming; pleading - Feel helpless sometimes; the moment always fleeting)
Sunday, October 11, 2009
A Modern Gunslinger Of Sorts....A Work In Progress, and Thus yet - untitled...
(more to come)
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Why does everything always got to be so fucked up?
Monday, September 21, 2009
There is a person...who can kiss my ass...but she actually wants to kiss my ass...so....Weird...
Wam, Bam, Thank You, Sam.
15 minute fix to cover your roots
But it seems that you've buried your whole tree instead.
I used to speak highly of you. Now, drinking nightly, I find fun rhymes to spray about you.
Truth becomes evident as time goes on
And now, I feel malevolence; a storm is coming on.
Hell, Fire, Floods and Battles. Pill Head Husbands. Asshole exes.
I was there.
One moment, when I needed you
You did the favor; and returned a deed
It showed how much you really cared.
Ask for my help...
Distrusts and judgements never mattered when I helped you
When you needed me
When you needed "huge favors" and blew me off in return
I Helped you
With your life, your kids and all your ruckus.
You're as fucking real as Santa Claus.
You devastate your life
Your kids, are the way they are because of your verbal and emotional strife
Hope that it's all good now,
Things are swell for me
Your ex-boy has become our friend
And we tell him that he did right
When he asked YoU to leave...
-peace-
11:33 p.m. September 17, 2009...Madness
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Jefferson County 'Justice-as-just-does' Center Anxiety; Tuesday Afternoon
File this motion; Before the ship goes undertow
Knee-deep in madness
([and I] Can't begin the explanation)
Contributing to your sadness-
Sorry, but this victory will be mine
(Again)
Children born from sticky situations
of more than one kind
Lead so blindly by a father
With no extra time
Ask you for a favor-
Your return is an excuse
You question my existence
Just know-
Through all the years -
I've questioned yours, too.
You'll have to bow down
Suck it up
Pay what you owe;stop delivering blows
THAT shit - is over
That bridge has burnt
The ship has sunk
From the holes you punched through it
and now,
you're sitting in and sifting through the wet dirt
(Looking for your missing pieces?)
Wondering what went wrong?
For a lot of years, the lyrics have changed
But you've still played me the same song-
-Hit Pause.
I eject the disc
Oh, this was yours, too -
Here-
You can have it;
It's your repetitive injuries contained within another's voice;
swapped for your own silence and swords
I always spoke my own mind
And you could never understand
(Maybe I should've used smaller words)
So I tilt my glass to smell this wine
This toast - to life becoming good again-
Is Mine.
Remain the same, You always did.
Like a broken angel with no wings
Atop an ancient grave, sunlight beams through shadows;
casts upon you
Shine through you
and I see that you have stayed unchanged.
Now you're unchained, so , in your travels, good luck
And your girls, they really miss you much.
Suppose we'll see where the tide lands...Suppose I'll be standing, pacing, screaming while a wait for the tide to break...
Lessons learned the hard way,
You lost me, You had me, and you fucked up anyway.
Think about yourself
And your ways.
I've always been the same,
But you, may never change.
Is That All There Is?
Nearly 25 minutes ago, I welcomed this storm, these claps of thunder; built for Thor, and the illuminating electricity that preceded every crack of this fervent and fevered bellowing.
How suiting.
The rage of this storm, however, did not overshadow the ferocity of the looming maelstrom brewing inside of my gut. My head. My entire being...
Then...
the downpour.
Electric luminosity touched all the rooftops and the hilltops and seems to threaten to creep into this open window. I hope it does.
Bwa-thump.
My heart.
Purple skies; everything shining at this ridculous hour, sparkling with what I will call 'glittering generality".
Then the rain fell harder. Streams of water soaked the window and the sill and streaks of high voltage pierced through the sky like some sort of malicious dagger. And came the rain, harder still.
The reverberating boom still did not drown out the sound of my worry.
4:57 a.m.
It looks like daylight. A fleeting glimpse of doomed, repetitive and strobe (day) light. I am still waiting...I consider making my way outside to the front yard and lying in the grass, staring into this wicked storm. Seems tempting. The street fills with water, slowly. But, it is absolutely happening. Slowly. But surely. A moment - only for a moment- does that serious consideration of lying in this lightning storm come back to me. Maybe, it would wash away layers of shroud on the eyes. Maybe it would drown me. And maybe, like most everything: nothing. Nothing at all would happen.
Typical.
Don't know how much longer I will watch and wait. Sleep for an hour, through this evil, unsettling stretch of territorial and torrential flood. It is my own, in many ways...
- fin-
|
untitled 1
The exuberant
Joyful, sleeping lust
That waits to be awaken
The moment
The times we remember
The times we cannot forget
The times that seem to haunt us
and to never loosen the grip they have
on our souls
Peace to you, dear friend
Be well on your way
Never forget the time that we had
And never
forget
My wicked ways
© 2002 Kerri A. Smith
-2002-
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
The Paper Trail From Houston (December, 2002)
The Paper Trail from Houston….
December 2002
The End of the Journey… And Into the Mouth of Madness of the Next One…
I chased the last fading dream of city living into the dimming glimmer of tall mirror-glass buildings as the sun sets over the skyline. With a deep sigh and a long, concentrated drag off of my cigarette, I stood on top of what I had claimed as my empire. Within hours, I would have to turn it away. I came here with virtually nothing; was leaving with nothing, but I had lost everything.
I stood unmoved amongst the hanging humidity and smell of water in the air. It was thick and heavy. Almost visible. This is shorts and t-shirt weather. I was going to miss this. My long and weary drudge to the northern part of the country is inevitable. And it had to happen, no matter how bleak and cold it promised to be. And the bleakness was almost guaranteed. And the cold, well, it came in more forms than just the temperature. It was a promise too. “Damned unto itself because of itself,” I thought. Soon the ever present wailing of sirens would cease. And I would once again be paying more mind to my conscious thoughts. I would no longer be amused by the endless stream of new faces and different cultures, music, food; everything.
Instead, I will soon be growing tired and return to the place that I had strived for years to break from. Depressing? Quite. I wasn’t handling it that well…
The ties that did once bind had already long been severed. So once again, I find myself starting over. This time though, I go alone. I have no choice or option.
My heart is growing heavy and my nerves are wearing very thin. My heartbeat seems to get louder. Faster. Almost deafening. This stress takes its toll. And I’m on the road to the homeland once again.
The Unrest; Constant Thoughts; Inspirations for the Constant Mental Breakdowns..(condensed)
I’m not too sure when it was that I figured out a very important fact of my life – that I was doomed, or perhaps the appropriate word is destined – to repeat the bad parts of my life over and over again.. Now, I’ve heard it said before that you must move forward if you expect change. Well, I‘ve done that. I’ve picked up the broken pieces of my life and moved them 1,500 miles away from the comforting familiarity of ‘home’. New job, new faces, new scenery. Same bullshit. Out of one relationship and into another. And at times, I feel so alone, still.
I’ve found that you really can’t run from your problems. They always come back to haunt you. And it’s not that the problems ever actually disappear; they only follow you.
Nowhere to run.
Nowhere to hide.
No matter how far you go.
Regret is a word I’ve always tried to keep out of my vocabulary. I try not to regret thing I’ve done, but to regret the things that I haven’t. However, there is one thing- one single thing out of my entire fucking life that I DO regret. And it’s not easy for me, either – regretting, that is… The one solitary thing that brings shame to my heart, tears to my eyes and strikes fear deep into my soul is the innocent child that I wasn’t strong enough for. That I couldn’t be strong enough for. What a fucking failure. I’d killed myself in a mental fashion so many times over for this. In one motion, I destroyed the meaning of an average childhood, a happy childhood. A happy, innocent life. Never asked to be here. Never asked for anything. I created this. And I ran away. I think about how this feeling I have MUST be what it is like to have a weapon fire a round through the chest cavity. It fucking hurts. It burns. It doesn’t ever go away. Like living with a butcher knife protruding from your chest at all times. That was all. I left behind those little fingers and toes, the tiny voice that could speak only a few words…My son’s. A once smiling and happy face I can now imagine had turned indifferent. Hateful. Spiteful. Maybe. He is only two. It’s up to his adult influences to see how hateful and spiteful they can turn him. His life is in chaos.
And it is my fault.
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Acupressure Points for Relieving Anxiety and Nervousness.......
Category: Life