Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Earth Mother

Expect nothing, receive everything,
quiet peace in solitude.
Meditate in isolate,
find truth in the study of,

suffering and pain.

The World is not sobering,
unhealth sickens the sea.
An ocean of small liberties,
a starlit sky is smog.
Extinction cries so loudly,
people laugh and jeer.

This Earth pains her sides,
while we turn and just won't die.
Time will be her favor,
animals will rule,
termits and bacteria,
survive the glacier pool.

A cock roach is determined,
a nuclear exist.
No matter what the outcome,
a small one doth persist.
Earth Mother shall exist.


The List

Love is lost, eternal signs,
this word is felt and often mine.
Laws of Divine and natural state,
finding yourself, do not bait.

Release your fears and feel it near,
encompass yourself with truth.
Wise ones isolate in a meditative state,
quiet time enrich your soul,
faith in love will often soar.

The breath of air, natures lair,
oxygen for lungs to bare,
breathing love, plunging sun,
enjoy the moons repentence.
Peaceful love in a stare.

Freedom with my love consist,
spirit laws don't resist,
the courts for this
seem to persist,
hatred is not on the list.



It's just assault,
it's not my fault,
these rooms are just not free.
They charged their friends,
for ins and outs,
for pricks to cause the bleed.

A silence toned when I roamed,
alone and in despair.
No one believed,
no one would care,
they'd pull my hair,
I am a snare
I'm trapped inside this beast.
I do like me,
I am not free,
say "no" to this, it's make-believe,
your memories of me.


Lost At Sea

My older sister tortured me,
upon my sides she would prick me,
with needles, pins and what she'd see.

The wounds were explicitly,
the character of pain.
Sharp instruments,
with noise I'd see,
no name is what they did call me.

You changed our life,
and we're not free,
your fault, your birth,
and then I'd scream.

Their faces used to really
scare me.
In night and day,
in fright, in bay
they'd lay,
in very tight display.

It's all your fault,
you caused this vault,
don't speak assault,
or you will know default.

By hand and barrel,
Lost at Sea.



My brother handled me like bars,
my tricycle repair.
My blue Raleigh,
made attempts,
it lasted out the Pimps you see.

I was so fast,
he punched like that,
no sound, he smothered me.
Crawl in here,
I'd get stuck,
tear off my pants and underwear.

I would sweat in despair,
he'd force himself inside.
My poop would hide,
deep he'd ride,
my lift would often break.

I could not take,
he was a snake,
in night he'd rule my thumb.

He'd hump my bum,
and then he'd come,
put me upon my knees, 
say "please".

You're so dumb, 
you're just a bum,
and I am your disease.

Will End

Raping, taping, do not speak,
you little tiny fuckin' freak.
Your words and screams,
they are so mean,
your made to birth it out.
Do not bite,
this is the sight,
my hardened organ speaks.
You little whore,
it is your chore,
bend well,
or you shall sink.

My ear to every door!

Your shrinks,
will only stop and think,
your only reason is this season,
lasting all the years.
The word I "no",
shall be not known,
I'll break you in at Three.
Shut-up you touched,
I'll tell your Mom,
a simple slut,
will end.

(Don't sin!!)



I love my life, though full of sights,
red velvet curtains sway,
tied-up just right,
my mom not tight,
enjoying Lairs of darkness stares,
I walk from room to room.
Sat down at booths,
the men were loose,
their hands with ropes they tied.
My ice cream melts,
as I delay,
I just do not want to play.
Behind the wooden cross,
the darkened walls,
in redness falls, my knees in broken fare.
The Lords proclaimed,
not my name, my age is hidden; fright!
Step by farther; hand was harder,
I feel my body split.
I crack, my back, not by choice,
help the girl she breathes.
The witches bow unto the lords,
dominion doth not ring.

It's just another fling.

Dark Frown

People speak in forum mixed,
without much of the rich.
Tricked out with style,
for long while, 
do you retain your bile?

Vomit well, in deep I tell,
the tale of my youth
An intellectual genius find,
diagnosis in my own behind,
a beating rhythm cursed.

My mother and her mate did rape,
my mind and body too.
What good are thoughts,
when you are taught (tot),
the things you shouldn't do.

You turn one eye,
so you can see,
you bleed for an eternity.
No help found,
you're just a sound,
a whip is what will have you bound.
A leather piece and I big, dark, frown.



Noted the divinity, of social identity,
put forth your tears of shame.
Cram down the name.
You must claim fame.
Ideas of the Imprisoned Flame.

Burn bright with height,
 a tall, true beauty, flight!?!
Up so high, I finally sigh,
give-up your thoughtful site.
You must be smart,
to be a Tart,
surviving every nark.

Turn not your cheek,
for you doth have Two,
considering all of you.
Secrets flare!
Deep I dare!
My memory of dark and druids lair.
I care, don't blare, your choice,
your voice, in timid, lurid share.



Rise forth my common friend,
to what you can't transcend. 
The intelligence of men,
the genius of just ten.

A wonder revelation,
of illusion and transportation,
recall at any moment,
the list I have, Atonement.

I don't forget I'm lost,
a child of great cost,
a mind of an intellectual,
selection of the sexual.

Sensuality reigns perpetual,
found in the complexional,
study of the intellectual,
leaves learning for the congregational. 

A church in command of social,
communications demand.
Genius ran,
in a place I tried to stand.


On Any Given Day

The hatred in me commands my intensity.
I cannot be truthful in lies.
One refuses to right the horrid wrongs,
they are not my account to withdraw.
Look before you crawl,
your nature knows it all.
To write in simple blood of verse,
I would know that I would fall.
It's sad beyond belief,
that I cannot find relief,
judgment points down to my feet,
in this I've found defeat.
I rise with a mighty call.
The lore of the angel maul.
Each word is taken tall,
instead of seeing the shawl.
It cloaks my complications,
with no manipulations.
A multiple display,
of whom I choose to play,
on any given day.



Storming glacier icy melt,
divine strength dust wane.
Nature cause such a strain,
God's lightning can't be heard.
Thunder of the spirit proud,
rain down a mighty shroud.
Gold drops and platinum pours,
from heights I cannot see.
An Oracle of stones in time,
a structure known to man,
now its time to make my stand,
I don't need a hand.
 Look out! I am not what you know.
Around the wisdom I will show.
It's all write, pen in hand.
Mind is busy with my plan.
Message builds outrageous flow,
sea side grace is all I face.
Storms of nature, hopeful try,
I just do not want to die.



Bold in record
Bold in book
Bold in nature, what he took.
Bold in manner
Bold in pleasure
Bold in measure, please don't look.
Bold in darkness
Bold in light
Bold in outcome, I'm not shook.
Bold in knowing
Bold in action
Bold in thought, Oh please don't fraught.
Bold in mind
Bold in might
Bold in soul, Oh! the days old.
Bold in verse
Bold in sound
Bold in feelings, please don't hurt.
Bold in nature
Bold in trying
Bold in good, I really should,
learn to be bold.
Oh please, I 'm getting sold.


I often wonder why I'm here.
I often plunder and cannot hear.
I often speak with no vocal noise.
I often listen but cannot sear.
I often know but cannot say,
I bear the wounds of my way.
I would often see, but, close my eyes.
I often thought and wore disguise.
I often scream, "you do not feel".
I often vomit, this is surreal.



Becoming who we must,
is often full of little trust.
Let me out of this; Bust!
I can't know me, I 'm full of rust.

From above comes one long list.
All I am is full of this, list upon list.
Not so funny when you lisp,
from the ones you do resist.

What should you do? they persist!!!
Using only a broken wrist.
I don't know, I often sit.
Resembles what? A simple twist.

Free me from this reframe.
My brain hurts from the strain.
Let me out I often stain,
blood red verse in disdain.

Why can't we all but reign?
Why can't we just remain?
What about when it rains?
Thunder storms and lightning mains.

Misting with my eyes resist.
Do you know hand and fist?
I cannot just exist,
If I am the one to only mist.


To take a punch, is to receive a hit.
Do you tape your hands? or do you sit?
I would rather make a r.i.p.,
than just stand and take a stip.

What is it about the day?
That makes us say, "Hey!"
How can we have a say?
When a fist is what we prey.

A sun may often be a ray,
directing at you what you make.
What is it that really shines?
Is it simply that son of mine?

I don't know, I have no time.
This belongs to whom? not mine.
Thank God for small favors in this line.
This could be an old sign.

It could actually be a steal,
of all the religious zeal.
Help me! I'm about to peel,
I got burnt and I can feel.


Find Me

The beginning of every end,
will not always be full of sin,
'causes us to take pause
and realize we too, are full of flaws.

How shall we be in life, saws?
What shall we be like, logs?
Cut on one end? Fell on the other?
Sawdust is similar to these laws.

Particle  pieces, make us nieces.
Aunts and Uncles give us knuckles!
Father, Mother, give us other.
Cell myself for an utter.

Neither be or shall not see.
Prey for me and you shall Three,
touch me and you shall sigh,
look at me and you shall say "goodbye". (die!!)

Where do you see this in my eye?
Do not look, you will find!
The reason being, I do not bind.
A life in the river Rhine!!

How will you see the movement mine?
or will you be a simple kind?
Genius is no longer mined.
It is simply a factual find!!


Foreward: The Nine Understandings, A Journey to Self

I would like to achieve my own independence.  I would like to develop my own structure of belief.  I believe that through freedom of thought and the freedom to choose (in my own determined life) I will deliver to myself a new enlightenment.  Freeing me from a harried life with PTSD and/or what the layman may call C-PTSD.  My mind has been injured and although the healing of writing will or should recover my independence.  I am honest enough with myself to know, that in all likelihood the traumas themselves will never leave me. It is part of me, like I am part of it.  It is my life and it has been complimented by many different experiences.  These have been both good and bad.  The things that have happened to me are mine.  It has all made me into who I am today. The question is what will I  do with all of this pain?  How will I choose to be?  Will I continue to mull over that which does not silence itself in my mind?  Or, shall I choose to tell my story?  Sharing with you the story of my life and how I came to "Self".

Both remarkable and full of sadness, this story will fill you with many different emotions.  Remembering that I am a survivor of childhood horrors will help.  Survivors, survive for a reason.  My reason is personal, maybe I will eventually share it with you.  Until then we can walk through my mind, discovering a path that may lead us to the recognition of your "self".

While on our journey, I will share many other things about my family, the church they started and more than likely, the members that supported my mother in her illness.  As I begin to find what is actually me, I am hoping that you will find peace of mind in your own lives.

I will share with you the how and why's of my own journey. In hopes that in the end you will find that you also can experience a transformation of your own consciousness, bettering yourself and those that may surround you in your daily life.  This is a path called, The Nine Understandings, A Journey to Self.

Karen A. Placek
Written on 5/29/2009

Foreword: An Independent Mind, Knot Logic

Disclaimer; I have no formal education. I was removed from school never graduating. I write to relieve the pressure/pain of "thought" off my mind, I am streaming my consciousness.  This is a comfortable way to get the things that are on it off it.

This may better explain;

Nothing Said

The rolling tape in my brain dead head,
shows pictures of all, they just aren't dead,
in spirit or mind or soulful dread,
pictures showing with nothing said.

I began writing a few things down on paper in 1999.  It was not until 2009 I wrote all of this poetry.  I am not a poet by any means, it is just how all the pain chose to come out of me at the time.  I never read what I write, it scares me. I do however try to date it so I will eventually be able to develop a time-line for myself.  Stupid I guess but it is true.  I finally found the password to the blog I began in 2008. All that you have read so far is mostly the stuff I wrote down on paper in the interim.  I have a need to go public so I am in the process of catching up with what I have already expressed. 

Here goes:
     I have had a heavy heart most of my life.  I am here to right the wrongs.  I do not know if this is something I was born with or if it came to fruition after I had been raped at the age of Two and Three and so on.
     I remember thinking, "I do not have to remember everything they are saying, I must keep my eyes open and remember everything they are doing".
     This actually was a complicated task, as whenever they made my bottles, they would put these drops in before anything else. From what I thought was a small glass tincture jar (this is all looking back with what I have now, a more adult and educated view to express what I am seeing inside of my mind).  I remember them saying, "one, two, three? do you think that's going to be enough this time?" "No, do more, at least nine or ten. We don't want her to talk".
     I hated closing my eyes, you never knew what would happen.  I used to see lots of colors, like dreaming in Tye-dye or being inside of a kaleidoscope.  It used to make me feel sick inside.  All the banging and the pounding.  It seemed to come from both inside and outside all at once.
     Its weird when you look back and realize that you were really hurt.  Bleeding everywhere and always sore.  I never knew what to do, they, my family, would always say, "You dirty girl, you make us behave like this! Stop! spreading your legs".  This was kind of difficult since I used to be put into a metal brace. I was severely pigeon-toed.  I used to scream, then they just goo'ed this stuff all over me and left.  This was always done in my bed at night.
     The past year of 2008 my eldest brother said this, "you know you were molested?", "you know they used to put shit in your bottle".  I answered by looking straight at him, "I have never forgotten".  He was silent.  Thanking goodness for small favors he spoke no more on the subject.
     Its strange how years after the fact he said this to me.  Almost as if it was a news flash.  Good thing I never forgot personally because what he said out of the blue may have been to much of a shock for me to take.  It could have sent me into a mind-set that I may have never recovered from. It kind of did anyway. It is after this incident that I really started to write anything down.  He seemed purposeful in his attack.  I am exact in mine.
     I have written this book of poetic verse, it seems to be the only way that the horrors will come out of me.  The flow of this novel will be tough for you to read. However I have found it to be a graceful release of my mind, from the nightmares and horrors I survived as a child.
     I do not want pity. I do not want you to feel ill about any of it.  I just want to exist somewhere, someplace where I am not told "get over it", "shut-up", "everyone has a bad life".  I do not want to be an ugly stain, a throttled voice or a beaten soul.  I want to heal, if at all possible, I want closure for my life of such horrors and traumas.
     I have been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A team of good-hearted souls has surrounded me, supporting me in this endeavor.  You may find that this book sucks your mind into a place of disbelief.  It's meant to do just that.  I want you to know my life has been surreal.  Sadly the events really took place.
     I hope that every poem speaks to you.  I hope that through my writings I am able to show you healing through perseverance not fear.  I hope for you to know that I believe you.  Bad things do happen.  Survivors do exist today, they only continue to do what they do best, survive.
     This is to all the ones that nobody believed. Here is to your own personal healing. Here is to all the tomorrows that we have not experienced. Here is to the heart of all the ones that did not make it through. I know you!  I hear your cries!  I know your pain!  I feel your sorrow. I feel your spirit. I see your Faith that continues to believe that somebody will survive and tell the story in such a way that we can all heal together dead or alive.  Healing from only one verse.
     To the magic of the blessed lives lost. To the magic of the blessed lives saved. To the magic of the simple verse.  To the magic of true words.  To the magic of nothing lost, only gained.  To the magic of all of you.  To the magic of a mysterious life, Mine!  Thank you for believing.  Thank you for being there.  From me to each of you, thank you!

P.S. Just a note.
It is not that the poems make sense to you in the beginning. It is what they say to you and how you use what they have said in your own life.  You may find these ramblings say nothing.  You may relate in such a way it becomes paralyzing.  I wrote this for my mind.  I want to have this get off of my heart.  So this may go everywhere, it may go nowhere, but, at least it went somewhere for me.  Now I know that no matter how much pain I exist in daily, I am not a dirty girl.  I was born, I survived and I want to learn to live free and happily.  I want to learn love. In the end, I would like to learn how to be me or be myself around all of you naturally, without the embarrassment of myself daily.