Tuesday, April 26, 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

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