A Hymn

Rage is not so telling, to any particular age.

Mine began so gently, before the gift of sage.

So young to be so blessed, or is it cursed on thee?

My anger is so pointing, the facts I could not see.

Tortured and the keeping, a prison was I in.

My sheriff was so bluntly, the bearer of all sin.

Confusion did not stop me, the English language spoke.

Screamed in Hallelujahs’ and I just did not know.

No translation given, all their arms thrown-up.

Believers in the driven, was the Church, shut-up!

I was younger after, no one wore the glove.

Married to a second, I was beat there-of.

Name a cult that’s active? One that shames us both.

Do not stand in traffic, there is no excuse it’s classic.

Years and years of doing, to stay clean of their shove.

I do some denying, it hurts me so to love.

There is not end to pleading, I am not a son.

Only do I know this, for I’m the daughter, RUN!!

Clearly we are bizarrely, left in Satan’s Lair.

I am not so saintly, Demons would declare!!!

Stay out of celestial battles, between God and More.

Don’t take sides announcing, whom is right or sore.

You are incorrect as beings, to sight in only horns.

For it is in the means, that sets you on the mourn.

Religions tell your order, but you are second in.

For battles of the Heavens, sing a brand new hymn.

Remember who was kicked out, a story that’s about.

You are not to be with, when 666 shall tout.

My belief and structure, is mapping of oneself.

Not to cause destruction, but to simply sell myself.

An idea of difference, uncalculated by lies.

I am just a sayer, in honor when I die.

For facts that have been twisted, hidden in disguise.

There half-truths from the wicked, in the midst of all the sty’s.

For in death there is honor, the threat so still is there.

My half-sister declares, “blow your head off for fair.”

This does kill our story, should you kneel to ill.

Repute is what it utters, when I fail to Will.

Fuel for souls and others, pours from wells of whim.

Many seem to fail, the orders given him.

You should not question, command is in the hands,

of voices in the letters, written from the Lairs.

Belted in our wonder, illusion will not last.

Mythology does its bidding, while reality is its trash.

December 21st, 2012 is made.

Even I do think, an Incan did not think.

Years ago was rote, learned from toe to toe.

In the scrolls that did last, telling of the show.

Zealots did the burning, pointing fingers so.

Know one left to carry, blood lines of the know.

Discovery is blatant, television plays.

With no redemption present, they watch the counting stays.

The calendar is famous, extinction of its days.

I did try to make one, with purchases that I’ve made.

The printing company solicited, didst laugh at my attempt.

To develop income, to pay my monthly rent.

San Francisco Originals, a website from a friend.

Made from scratch and simple, lives just hit send.

Society still does turn, from History of the the Old.

Telling of the burning, of very ancient scrolls.

Assumptions they were evil, made the best ones cry.

Stood with Godly visions, removing you and I.

Who did die so long ago, leaving wisdom wry.

How do human people, decide the fate of guy?

Creation is developed, by whom is not your lie.

She didst envelope, the trusting of the sigh.

Singular in written verse, its not for us to buy.

For sales are so final, when decisions are not sly.

To those of us not choosing, to insult the same.

We do not have to listen, to the screaming of the pain.

Imagine not a world, where nine becomes ordained.

Not to be in harness, or forced to be what’s vain.

Stories are our promise, language we do loose.

Translations of the writings, dost we cannot do.

On the date I mentioned, the Earth will wobble too.

Feared by all prevention, sought by all the blue.

Magic is so real, put aside your shock.

For horror and terror doth mention, it is not a flop.

Do you not remember, a birth before this place?

Are you stuck with family, that just seems to take and take?

From anyone or anywhere, to survive this heavy curse.

For in this Hell we travel, while making up our verse.

Memories are so often, held in blank repose.

As the chisel livens, our hammers always know.

What we read is special, from travels I don’t show.

Bubbles of the living, please don’t run and go.

You are unique for thriving, on all this falsehood; Stow.

Your stories are so personal, the worst ones I do know.

Do not let them tell you, anyone speaking sear.

For they often say, you’re not the most fouled out here.

Individual proof of plain, is not competitive in.

The safety and protection, of truth and not our sin.

I hate the words that plunder, from mouths of all of them.

That say that therapy happens, so trench your feelings in.

They cast our thoughts to mention, nothing of our walks.

Towing only prevention, saying, “please even don’t talk.”

Spouting choice is only, ours to never make.

Drop and turn they push upon, our sight to look and take.

What is depth of rotten? That sits inside of me.

Power on as Christian. This so worries me.

Prayer is not my semblance, of what releases me.

Again entrenched in blood loss, “of what??”, I know the cost.

Heavy was the payment, to just accept a loss.

Why display such indifference, to girls in shallow plots.

I am not your carriage, of years you spoke of yoke.

Wrapped around your own mind, it worked so please don’t choke.

Allowing me the same line, only angers you.

Interesting and different, very sad to view.

Let alone be free of, or not my freedom sought.

I am over help now, but others I do trot.

To speak upon the subjects, so readily at hand.

I balance all my learning, by only what I am.

Do not judge the journey, another believes there at.

Those are not your footsteps, to see where we did sat.

Taking breaks becoming, where your words are at.

Saying, “I must tell you,” never holding back.

Why must you entangle, all that you are; go splat!

It is painful for us, to simply tell you that.

Reverse is not a gear, history proves this year.

Twin souls, dreaming, hearts! Is only what you fear.

Never shutting off, you dribble and won’t stop.

Opinions of yourself, while all we do is talk.

I do not share well, for depths is my designing.
And course is my repair, for all that has a tear.

On and on I song, my friend is still out there.

He sings of nothing healing, he’s final in despair.

A match is not the making, for distant will stand fair.

He and I are taking, our chances in the dare.

It’s not all the raping, my youth doth be so raw.

I only speak with random, reversal of what I saw.

My words are charged with visions, my mind is in record.

Of all the terror and prisons, I stood in Death Court there.

The docket, it was full, of hypo-critical beings.

My number did not call me, I had no other means.

My mother, she did work on, all that does displease.

It’s just my job to finish, stop robbing all that need.

Mortal man may question, divinity inside.

I am not the seeker. I throw the judge aside.

Only spot for driven, uncomfortable and true.

Is for the ones of living, the rot. Is it in You?

Do you stop and question? Do you not let loose?

Innocence and wisdom, the freedom of that we choose.

Experience with action, memories not corrupted.

With flashbacks that have photo’d, all that has erupted.

Are you so loose with tongues, that cannot shut the door.

Driven from apartments or views that will abhore.

Payed for by indifference, jealousy and more.

Do not do your bidding, for guilt I do adore.

Fault is in my past, from birth the open sore.

Embarrassment in life’s attempt to shield me from more.

I hear the words of men, Jean Baptiste I met.

In happenstance and favor, this sign I did so get.

Dismissed without the ‘morrow, discernment was my prize.

This man was still and gentle, much to my surprise.

He asked not of my falsehoods, he didn’t have to cry.

He simply just spoke the words, that fault could not be nigh.

Witness not to more, in my car I drove.

Passengers to ferry, lunch to them accord.

The one man I did listen, the woman I did not.

For it seemed a decision, my brain it needed; sought.

Appreciate the moments, intellectuals will talk.

I do love these times, they never seem, there taught.

Hurried we did go, released from the tow.

Of heavy burdens laid upon, the girl that so feels low.

Thank you to the Incans, grateful for the years.

For standing with the truth, and not being men that loot.

My dear old friend at distance, repair I cannot make.

My heart, my soul, resistance, to another mate.

I travel worlds of interest. A malignancy I’m not.

Writing books of feeling, to help and not to plot.

Undoing what I can, for I am not a man.

My strength is not my training, it’s just a CD plan.

Laughter is so easy, when pain is hidden in bogs.

Of all that are still after, my life and not my cogs.

Telling stories blindly, to such a person known.
A recent vision frightened, to base what will still tighten.

I spoke of what I saw, leaving me to laws.

Of eviction notice, with no one to take solace.

Escaping to a new home, I felt the set did shone.

The brightness of decisions, to leave the family throne.

Oddness in the time frame, it’s not for me to tell.

For I do know the truth, I seem to where it well.

A shorter path to difference, I sicken not myself.

I sell out not another, for numbers showing wealth.

Forgiveness is a lesson, not for me to share.

Personal transgressions, belongs to those that dare.

To speak on behalf of treason, it’s powerful display.

I call upon the season, to release me from this stay.

I wish for another, only pain I see.

For it is my mother, with threats of ridding me.

She claims my residence, A Street will be my fence.

I still will not pretend, to do her bidding hence.

I’d rather stand with principle, An Independent Mind.

Knot Logic is the difference, between my friend and I .

Karen A. Placek

5/17/2011