Death Court

The Day of the Dead!

I was snuffed, wrapped 'round my head.

Missed my ride and then it said,

"Get back, Get in, You didn't Sin"!

I moved over to the wall,

thought that I might have to fall.

Staring at what horrifies,

held my breath,

and I turned left.

On the other side of things,

they were busy with what bothered me.

Prepare, I stared, lots of work,

record your minds,

a simple quirk.

I'd be scared but thought I'd dare,

to be brave and stay out there.

Watching for a length of time,

realized it took a dime,

to make a call, I'd never "NO"!!

Don't come back, to remember that,

I'm now on a different track.

I moved on in timeless song.

All were there to prepare,

for your arrival in all despair.

Fascinated I did not sign.

Took Satan's box with no disgrace.

Complicated mess to see,

moved right in, you had to be.

Pull a number, stand in line,

could not believe, it was not mine.

Asked some questions at tolling table,

nerves did rattle, what a fable.

Lie, Oh lie, its like a rail,

roading you to no prevail.

Toot your horn, you have a Tail.

Saw the locker of evidence,

just looked at you on the fence.

Do you really think you're smart?

That when you're dead, you've hit the mark?

Challenges are not so good,

when your brain contradicts your should.

Tell the truth, the warnings in.

Be not what I saw as sin.

Telling nothing of what they fear,

rules have changed inside of here.

Demons close and don't revere,

why bother you just pretend and smear.

The name of God, pulls no weight Dear!!

Fold your hands? It's to late.

Go to Church? It is a plan.

Sex and Drugs and Money rings,

all the bells of disgusting verse,

quote me not, I'm not rehearsed.

Do you think you are to blame?

Point your fingers?

Know your shame.

Court is open when your dead,

hammer hits upon your head.

These are the places that they set snares,

lots of people report down there.

Your mind, your brain, rats you out.

Defensive types are not about,

strangling by spirits route.

Crimes are heavy, they don't care!

Death Court sets the latest dare!

Karen A. Placek

4/28/2011

Trotting Off, Polo?

Normally I close my eyes,

screaming in defeat.

I am not the age of Five,

nor Four, or Eight, I sage!

Why must I be surprised,

every night I've lived.

Don't I ever catch a break?

My life, my mind, a shiv?

Do these nightmares just require,

the Fear, the gasping air?

I cannot catch my breath sometimes,

the panic wrecks it there.

 I wonder if my origin spot,

ever feels this way?

Or do they just turn their backs,

on the coldest day?

Can I dump these memories,

of Old in Ancient, weight?

What happened to me in my life,

that my mind repeats the strife.

I wish that Blunt could be here too,

singing songs in person; Tune,

to take away the Fear.

Does the family of all this rot,

that fills my mind a lot.

Ever think that what they've done,

or do they Church and trot.

The Polo player needs to know,

that mallets are for me to sew,

the truth of the galloping horse.

They keep my mind on coarse.

I heard of the Churchill Affair,

as family business needs no repair.

Collecting money on the backs,

of the ones who worked the track,

and lost their lives out, Dare!

Suicide did more than I,

I miss my friend, I missed the sign.

He hung himself out there.

I wondered how he lived in fear,

I now know more and I must tear.

We shared the nightmares,

we shared the dreams,

we played some baseball,

and other things.

We passed the time,

when we were; bind!

A child like resist.

What good was all of this we did,

if in the end we can't survive,

the guys, the men, the womens thighs,

the Trauma of our lives.

Karen A. Placek
4/28/2011

Second Time Hit, Last Time Real

Taking years of blind attacks,

you get older and wonder that.

Do these people walk with Fear?

or do they hit a strange new gear.

I find it odd, they have not guilt.

Their memory seems almost built.

Each and every stone unturned,

mortared in with what has been.

They sit and eat, like you and I.

Their friends complete, not to unique.

Sometimes I wish that I could treat,

the brand new people with their defeat.

If I could speak to those friends, friends.

The ones that love to hear of ends.

Telling all of the fall,

the con,

the bong,

the men are wrong.

Women hate so much its clear.

Always complaining of what is near.

"Take out the garbage", they scream account,

"why don't you work harder, you only Mount".

What would a husband say to this,

if he knew it was a tryst.

A brand new friend my family found,

have discussions of why he's around?

Could his wife be one of those?

Back in the day of no repose.

When all those women shared and chose,

an orgy wild, upstairs; filed.

My mind, no gift of any kind.

Sees all the pictures left behind,

unanswered questions, take the Roll.

For the check-off changes, FULL!

Whomever wants to take a Whore,

call the House of Madness, more.

Gifted from the guild of Thor,

lightning, thunder, I do adore.

Imagination lets run wild,

it is better than the crowd.

They deny the truth out loud,

that this happened under the shroud.

Karen A. Placek

4/28/2011

I Would Rather Lose Than Win Anyday

I learn so much when I lose.  It's not that I win anything very often but truthfully I win the most because I lose.  When I lose, which with a little deeper thought could be related to being "the blame child" or "the scapegoat", I learn what to do and not to do by watching the winners.  Winning is fantastic, exhilarating and anti-climatic.  What do you work on in yourself if you have won.  Losing makes you know that there are things to work on.  Last night was the first time I won against the horrors of sleep.  The kindest beings, if you will, surrounded me in an incredible understanding of shielding me from the terrifying feeling I have when I sleep.  Normally, I scream in my mind when I close my eyes at night.  I try to imagine this one man and listen to him singing his songs, I draw some comfort from this thought.  In the end, in my minds eye, I have my arms wrapped around his neck and my head on his chest.

Does anyone else have nightmares or flashbacks when they turn in at night?

Thanks so much for the ones that covered me inside of my fear 12 hours ago.  I slept and enjoyed a night free of gasping, screaming and waking up in a fright.  A wonderful imagination of what could be for me brought me out of the losers circle and comfortably into the Winners Circle.  I achieved sleep comfortably, thanks.

My Nightmares Are Back

I take so much time in my life to face the horrors in my mind during the day.  I try so hard to not put anything to the back of my mind to deal with at another time.  This is a good way to not have your nights interrupted by what fears you.

My birthday is on Friday and always causes me distress. I am assuming that this is why I am screaming in the night again.  I was trying to overcome this trauma this year, but, so far I am still not able to control the uncontrollable. I hate the fact that when I sleep I am plagued with dreams.  Sometimes I wonder if I even sleep at all, it is as if I am up all night dreaming.  Sounds so stupid when I confess such a thing.  I wonder if my mind will ever be able to overcome the fear in me that seemly plays out at night, in the dark, when I 'm alone.

I like to believe that the flashbacks I suffer, the nightmares I live through are all for a reason.  I like to believe that it is my mind deciding that I am old enough to deal with my traumas as a youth.  I believe that before we can continue on in our life we must deal with that which has caused us strife.  I like to believe that the reason for such horrors to plague me again is my brains way to warn me of what may be coming up and I will have to face in person very soon.  I am not sure why else we would continue to have nightmares or even why we would be all of sudden plagued with flashbacks.

The flashbacks that I have had seem to be unfinished thoughts or memories of situations I purposely have avoided.  I know that I sound brave in facing my past, but, in reality it is a tough agenda to set for yourself.  Its been weird, I don't know if any of you have flashbacks, they seem so unique to themselves.  One flashback seemed to "go live", scarring the shit out of me.  I ended up in my front room walking back and forth saying, " I'm alive, I'm a human, I'm not an it".  I kept walking back and forth for what seemed like an hour or so.  Each time I tried to stop and sit down I thought I would have heart failure.  So, I went with the flashback and walked it out, so to speak.  After it finally ended I felt relieved that it had happened in my home and I was able to see it to its completion.  If it had happened while I was out and about, I would have been able to control it, but probably would have been extremely stressed.

I sat down and thought for a long while. I thought about what I had been saying, where I was at the actual time of the trauma and how sad it made me feel knowing this was actually a real event in my life.  I hadn't remembered it until this happened, I found it quite disturbing.  I was unaware a flashback could go live.  I thought at the time I must have fallen off my own rocker and just did not know what I was talking about.  Flashbacks were new to me in my life and I am still getting used to the abruptness of the attack of one. I made an appointment with my counselor at the time to question my own interpretation, "a live flashback", because it not only sounded stupid but quite unrealistic.  Turns out I was wrong.  I guess it can happen at any given time according to the shrinks.  Yea, another bright spot in the reality of surviving the abusive nature of the people who seem to think there was nothing wrong with how they raised me.

To The Unknown

I speak the words to the unknown,

to the ones that must own,

the lives that now must simply, thrown!

Don't give up for you will roam,

until the day that they do bone.

It's all about sex and drugs,

money making and some rugs.

That top the men,

that make us laugh,

to know for sure,

it's not our act.

To turn the other cheek in vain,

is nothing more than leaving, Trained.

To do whats right and always drain,

we are so tired and not insane.

Thank goodness for the little brain,

I started out with in this vein.

I looked for evil, to understand,

my life's lesson was my plan,

to get to know the family's dam,

never run and always stand,

regardless of any man.

B.D.S.M.

was not my fear,

but boy, oh boy, do you destroy,

an age old practice,

of ancients here.

I hope you have the things you'll need,

to explain the falling, Peeved!

I know for sure that what I saw,

on the day that I did, Law.

No restrictions, no restraint,

from the mother, not the bank.

Pictures show the disturbing facts,

did you know that act for act,

you are charged for all of that,

regardless of your class or tact?

I wish you luck for sex erupts,

all the girls that roughed it up.

A name for us is purely plain,

you call us whores and for our pain,

you turn your heads,

and advertise,

for the ones who close their eyes.

Karen A. Placek

4/27/2011

Why? I Still Scream!

My thoughts, my nightmares too.

They do plague me right straight threw.

The horrid flashbacks that seem to reel,

with no deny of lost,; REVEAL!

I speak of the parenting, please repeal,

that did raise me inside surreal.

Feeling sick and constant meal,

of every moment

they're words were real.

Plagued with fear, I work from "hear".

Please don't let them curse, adhere!

We'll get better, I suppose,

I seem to have the gift of prose.

Keep your fingers crossed, I say.

There will be another day.

Swallow hard for they're afraid,

we might write about their grave.

Mine would make great windows of,

stain glass finish from above.

I won't give up if you swear,

to meet me in the end, 

a dove!

Karen A. Placek

4/27/2011

The Third Man Out

The lives that I saw smashed,

while I was being thrashed,

made me wonder why we live,

and why I am the trash.

Searching other ways,

Men would come and stay.

Dungeons, Lairs, red curtains flair.

I wondered why we're there.

My mother off with them,

leaving me with him,

jingle change would cause some fear,

He'd say, "please don't touch me here".

The memory holds the key,

to a life that is all mine.

I know that fear will always rear,

my trust is in arrears.

She'd disappear in my sight,

the linens were not right.

Instead of laying flat you see,

they hung just like that, with dignity.

Chinese laundry folded clothes,

but others used some robes.

Massage was advertised,

no Japanese about.

Confusion still would hold my head,

but naked men did tout,

"this was no place to be about,

if you were only Three".

Off we'd go another night,

no sleep would this one hold.

Up to see a different we.

A way, a might, to "be".

They are the ones who took from you,

some evil spirits view.

Standing 'round, inside the brown,

or black of the, we're Found!!

Fear in me, went to see,

the natural lift of flight.

The ones were red and very dead,

came through with no delight.

I did scream inside my head,

"take me, hold me tight".

A Pentagram, painted by Man,

began to spin the floor.

Not one hood moved, it did behoove,

not them but men of Whom?

Masters of, the sin above,

the Lairs there is no room.

Don't go to the places,
where the ones do not know you.
The Spirit nature of demons flare,
when innocence is there.
Disappearing in plain site,
is all that we did fight.


Don't look to God for your appeal,
he's turned his back on you.
All you have is what you hold 
and what you hold is due!


BDSM or Pentagram or the Cult like belief.
Which do you point fingers at to find some personal relief.
Go to church, get on your knees,
pray for what you seek.


For in the end, it is the Men,
that closed the doors on thee.
It's BDSM that's Love to Me,
not the belt I see.
Wrapped around the man from town,
that married you for me.

Karen A. Placek

4/26/2011

Making An Excuse

I love how all seem to make excuses for the narcissist.  People seem to excuse them for their behavior, their lies, almost excusing their very existence.  Whereas I am told by professionals I am accountable and need to forgive my family, meanwhile, they also tell me to never be around them again.  But, the more I think about it, the more I believe that I cannot be any different. I also must be a malignant narcissist. I was raised by them, my family still tote's the ways of the narcissist, essentially they are con artists and yes they do lie.

I did choose to be different at a young age. I remember not wanting to be like them, especially like my mother.  I recognized that we were one in the same, no difference unless I made it. So, I decided to do everything the opposite way she did it. Yes, I am the blame child but truthfully I am probably just as "evil" if you will as she is, I mean really how could I be different, I am hers, raised only by her and the people she payed to be around me.  I make a choice everyday to be better than I want to be.  I am haunted by the nightmares and that may make us different, my mother and I, but deep down really don't you agree with me.  Aren't I going to be a malignant narcissist that makes a choice, accepting my life and choosing to be better than what is written about them.

I don't know its just a thought. I do know it's not my job to forgive.  I don't know if it is yours or not, but I do wonder why you would take on so much responsibility.  I believe that the ones that have wronged us are the ones that make up these kind of rules or suggestions to better their own conscience.  Why on earth would you forgive the ones that have hurt you?  I have a hard enough time forgiving myself, let alone anyone else.

I know other people have equally as bad of stories and I am not the only one in the world with a story or a tragic life.  My crime told to me forever is, "being born".  Even at that, people in my past have told me not to hold anything against my family. Saying that I should forgive them for whatever they have done to me.  Grant it that would come from other people that asked me around the holidays why I was not visiting my family.  I would just say something like "we don't get along".  It has always made me laugh how ready people were to comment on what they have no clue about.

Back to forgiveness, the thought of the day.

I don't even know what love is, let alone how to forgive anyone.  I would love to tell you that I received the instructions for life when I was born.  I don't think the book had been published yet, or, my parents just did not buy it for me.  I used to stare at my family and wonder how I got here.  They took such horrible advantage of people while I was growing-up they had no real time to teach values or morals of any kind.  Mostly they stole people's wealth, be it a trust fund or waiting and changing the Will's with the influence of the entire church telling the person it was the right thing to do.  Really I feel as if I am part of a forty-year con from the Sixties.  I just seem to be the only family member that has not joined up with the family business.  Needless to say I am in the hot seat.  This is a place I have been in all my life, but, the past few years have been more serious.  The last of "the big fish" died about two years ago.  So essentially they are just winding it all up and thus far there is no evidence of the crime.  Why would there be, either the people are dead or they have run off to different parts of the world and hang their heads in shame.  They are embarrassed that they have been taken advantage of in such a way. They will not go to the authorities to file any sort of complaint.  This seems to be a common reaction of most con artist victims.  The only bummer is that it has left me out in the cold on my own. 

To date my mother still believes me to be possessed.  I was plagued with the Demon of Silence as a child.  Now that I have begun to speak I wondered if that has now changed, LOL!  Decidedly I am still on Satan's side, regardless of what any of you say.  They are on Gods side and there is no way that I will be on that same side, so I am on the opposite team.  I also met Satan once and he seemed very molecular.  Oh course, it turns out that it was Anton Levay and that is how he  introduced himself.  So the confusion would be obvious for a kid.  It doesn't matter anyway, after years of being told I am the beast I accepted as my lot in life and I really don't mind.  I would rather be evil if they are considered good, I accept all that goes with that decision.

What has always been so disturbing to me is how quickly other Christians jump on board with the belief that I am possessed and evil.  Without even knowing my story, my mother has the support of all her friends that I am a child that is just telling lies about my childhood to destroy her good name.  Its funny because over the years this same thing happens again and again as she just rolls through a new group of friends.  By the time her friends find out that she is truly treacherous it is to late, at this moment of clarity they have lost quite a bit of what they owned already.  Usually the old friends run off and are never heard from again. Then  just like clock work in rolls a new group of Christian friends. 

Truthfully I don't even know what Christians actually believe in other than each other and the lies they tell one another.  I am even confused about the God that they worship.  Isn't he a Jewish God name Yaweh.  Why would they worship a God belonging to another belief?  Important question for me to have answered before I start worrying about what it actually takes to forgive another for turning a blind eye my entire life. Let alone begin to forgive my family for something that I have never not known.  Why would I forgive all the things that happened to me.  What has happened to me makes me who I am today.  I like myself and if I had not gone through all of these horrors I would be not be who I am.  Grant it I have had to suffer through the traumas and figure out how to live in a nightmare but that is nothing different than what I have done for my entire existence.  I would not want anyone to feel sorry for me, that would be counter productive. I just would like people to be O.K. with me as I am, not looking away or thinking that I am filthy, and have no redeeming character because they happened to be privy to my story.  I went through what I did, I survived, it is not a crime to still be breathing and trying to live peacefully.  I survived for a reason and possibly that reason may be to speak to all of you. Maybe I can help others with the poetry I have written.  I hope that the ones that have been hurt in their lives are able to relate and it helps the pain I know we are all in.  I strongly believe that we cannot get over these traumas, maybe we can get through them and accept each incident as part of our own lives. They will stay with us forever, it is what makes us who we are I'm afraid, I just would not like to live in so much fear everyday of my life.  It's not my job to forgive, I wouldn't even know where to start. Let me live, instead of spending more time on the people who hurt me by having to forgive them.

My Crime

I was born,

they turned aside.

I was taught not love but lies.

Left to men of much disguise,

came in my room while she did lie.

Knew my first snuff at age of two!

Guilt remained and came right threw.

Beaten 'till I did know you.

Will you see me in the shoe?

Spent most of my time in dining rooms,

filled with people doing shrooms.

Dirty feet and ratty hair,

was the Sixties,

were you there?

It was awful for the few,

that did master survival too.

Now we're told by all of you,

our skills worked well when we were Two.

Now give up and be the....PHEW!,

that never talk or get rescued.

Doesn't matter what you do,

go to anyone they'll tell you.

"Get over it", "I don't care",

nor do they want to hear of anything from there.

Take some meds, go away!

Survival skills?? You're over age.

You could turn, you could be,

I will never forgive all thee.

My crime is heavy, 

breaks my will,

I was born,

I'm cited still.

"Blow your head off",

"Kill yourself",

all the words from family; Stealth.

I'm the leak,

I'm the valve,

until my crime, I will vow.

Such dissension,

and outloud!

Where is justice?

Where are the proud?

Continue on, I'm Satan's Spawn.

Scream and Yell 'till you fell,

running still from this Hell,

my crime of birth?

and I'm not well?

I believe that I was one,

the result of men that cum.

My mother, who? an accident?

of those that need, no tracking, yet?

I'm a sign,

from the time,

that there must have been a grind.

How is this my fault, my weight?

Why do I slave for men in graves?

I give up, my mom's not square,

she just spreads her legs back there.

Honesty, to my delight,

is surviving every night.

Although my nightmares haunt my sight,

I can preach, no delight.

They are Godly, I'm of the Beast.

Named and Numbered or at least,

what they've said since I was; Greased!

for every man and his release.

This is my crime,

I do confess.

Take my life, "I can't; Possessed".

Why would I help them out of guilt;

I might pout and cause a tilt,

in opinion,

in their life,

in their minds and even still.

I won't quit until I find,

tell me now what is my Crime?

Karen A. Placek

4/26/2011

For Fact

Little girls in flowered panties,

stood in line with red rosed cheeks.

In front of her by design,

was a homeless man of some kind.

Long was the line,

with gun did roll,

"join my club and trigger pull".

If you don't do as I say,

you will be the one to play.

A long and even tempo not

off to death you must trot.

The threat became an interesting game,

the bullshit ran and boys did gain.

Pulling all the triggers back,

repeat the threat.

Again I'd bet,

another fell,

not a card that's for fact.

For when the gamble became direct,

the shuffle was a fucking wreck.

Karen A. Placek

4/24/2011

A Flashback

The action of today with the remembrance of yesterday,

brings even a good man down.

To know that all is made and bound,

by nothing more than I 'm around.

Sadness creeps outside what keeps,

a normal mind at ease.

To know that the depth and strength of past,

brings memories to thee.

Stops the ones who never run,

but they often wonder why?

The little girl with grown men see,

the nightmares and they believe.

No one saves you from below,

Death is singular, not a dream.

Reality bites, while watching horrors,

of things you cannot see.

To gag at years past,

is only one way through

even the roughest patch.

Close your eyes, reality bites.

Men of Illusion see me through,

crying, preying on all of you..

You better not really go,

to these places or this show.

Karen A. Placek

4/24/2011

Just A Note

The hatred runs deep within,

you're born, you're worn, you simply try.

Years go by you're all alone,

no matter how hard you work, The Why?

I close my eyes, my third eye out.

Why bother you to even shout.

If I don't have what it's about,

you don't listen or even tout.

The rage that settles inside of me,

a view of something you will need.

I'm the blame child, gifted see.

Daughter of the malignancy.

What I know is family,

tortured so for normalcy.

If they came out it would show,

God would tell them, "Please, don't go".

Sex was always, the topic stayed.

All night long they would rage.

Where I learned from no age,

birth is for the men of sage.

Obviously it's not for her.

My half-sister is blood and more,

screaming across the dinning room.

She proclaimed, there is no broom.

Blow your head off, she declared,

almost louder than she shared.

Best for our family, you're a spare.

Use a gun, close to heir.

Searching words caused me despair.

She is fourth in sibling count.

Second husband, no recount.

Told some people about her fount,

no one believes you 'till your Dead.

Funny how you try and try,

just to be with any guy.

To feel safer from this, FRY!

Do they ever quit or sigh.

Thinking maybe do or die,

isn't such a cool re-try.

All my family speaks of is,

years and years of earnings, live!

Should you know them when you're down,

Wills and Trust Funds will abound.

Cruising, Limo's, shopping sprees,

you will pay for on your knees.

Tote they will of power plays,

till the guilt is worn that way.

Take it all or take it Sum.

Does it matter, you're now dumb.

Lost within this maze of life,

bet you wish you had a knife.

Declare your income,

declare your shade,

even songs give way.

No encouragement, no simple grave,

just run like hell and no your save.

Should your family see your plight,

will they know that you're alright?

Can't tell a story 'bout Death and Fight.

All will think it's time; Don't bite!

Take some drugs for yourself,

you're depressed and into delve!

Accusations fly about,

you need a shrink

or locked account.

They shine so bright while you fight.

Your family says, "they must be right".

There goes your fortune,

your bank account,

your savings and your last genuine mount.

Lost your Horses? while polo's played.

Use a mallet not a blade.

Back in an ancient world view,

balls were skulls and worked for few.

Testimony of this sank,

behind the vault and biggest rank.

Highest Officer I would call,

would be guy and he would fall.

Death is what he sings about,

just a random guy to count.

Liked his verse, it matched my curse,

No, I will not take my life.

Why would I they would pout!

Never worry 'bout such things,

'cause it's taken far beneath,

when my mom sold soul for soul,

signed in blood, red, parchment fold.

I wasn't more than two years old.

Don't mean to bother, don't mean to stain,

someone that I call by name.

It's just the common thread we hold,

Death or Dead we're not so old.

Love the songs that echo in.

Keep me free and knowing sin.

Turn up the dial for a while,

maybe he will know this child.

Kinder, surely pictures show,

exampling the way that I should go.

But, I'm held tight and all alone,

fighting family and not a tone.

Bet he gets his hearts desire,

every time that he retires.

Go my friend in sleepless sway,

watch out and never come this way.

My sisters pledge for every man,

hoarding thoughts of discipline.

I gave up years ago,

every time I said "Don't go".

Trickery in my hands held,

impossible partner that I can't hold.

They can't take, what I can't have,

try and try they got so bold.

No response, thank god for; Ignore!

They're just crazy and I was board.

Sorry you were shored.

Never thought it would go so far,

you protect me in my car.

My radio plays me, but I scar,

cuts and bruises, flashbacks, Hard!

I keep my chin up, I won't char.

Karen A. Placek

4/25/2011