I Knew I Hurt

Gidrius Varnas

I ate the food;

Drank the drink,

I knew I hurt.

Took the pill,

Kept the job,

I knew I hurt

Did the therapy

Talked words~

I knew I hurt

Stinging words

Did not know.

I knew I hurt

I made friends

Who held me close

I knew I hurt

I loved him

The present absence

I knew I hurt

Sumptuously I cooked

Fed with love

I knew I hurt

I heard their music

I played in looks

I knew I hurt

Not me,

I whispered

I knew I hurt

I worked hard~

I said healing!

I knew I hurt

I loved the one,

Dancing in time.

I knew I hurt

Struggling in the fray,

Fucking in the moments~

I knew I hurt

But, I did not know

Knowing.

One night

Someone came.

Seeing me,

Speaking my

Truth

Ripped through

My Soul

Curled up fetal

On the bed

I knew I hurt

Through the opening

Wind howls

Abrading the hurt

With caresses

That ached

And stung

And bristled

And rebelled~

Till silence

Held me close.

kimsmith

Street Abandon

Elly Simmons

Then I Met You (AKA Kim Is In Love)

John Running

Then I Met You

Thought that I’d be happy
Going to be so happy
Living life alone and never sharing anything

Thought that I was finished
Thought that I was complete
Thought that I was whole instead of being half of something

Thought that I was growing
Growing older, wiser
Understanding why this world held nothing for my spirit

Thought that I was destined
Destined to be nothing
Destined to be nothing in this world and then I met you.

I met you

Thought that God had failed me
Thought my prayers were useless
Thought that he would never give the chance for me to praise him

Thought the book was written
Thought the game had ended
Thought the song was sung and I could never sing another

Thought my faith was misplaced
Thought my back was broken
Broken by a weight that I was never fit to carry

Thought I knew this city
Thought I knew all about it
And then one night I went to Morningside and you were waiting

I met you

 

The Proclaimers

Bruce My Last Sigh Flickr

 

You should know…

 

…that I lie.

And, I like exceptionally long naps!

Work, teaching; I have even been exercising, cleaning, caring for a 23 year old dog who will be leaving me next Thursday.She will go in her own home with the vet, his wife, and Kim to see her off to the next part of her journey.

One thing about death: You should be able to call those who die.

Who do I write about that?

Someday, I will write another poem!

Hey, someone said my yahoo profile was beautifully written today, they used the word wrought. I think this should count. Oh wait, I wrote that over a year ago. Damn.

One more thing, fall is coming. If you feel like wooing me, send propane!

Hey, I had two dates with the same guy too! No go, but I learned a lot. I thought of Suresh a lot! Silence is a powerful conveyor. This man never shut up, it was a phenomena. He has many qualities, but no match.

I need a 3 year nap.

Kim

This is not a photo of Sammi the wonder dog but the canine spirit.

 

 

I see Sammi after next Thursday, trotting down the road. Here ears are bouncing! She is off to find the next moment.

Or~In This

Reflection

Mark Holland-Hicken

 

 

In this

I saw

you

loving

me.

kimsmith

See This

 

Reflection

Mark Holland-Hicken

 

Fruit

bears-

We

feel

we

Cannot.

 

 

kimsmith

 

Poem

Surivior

Elly Simmons

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You who wear shirts

ripped at the collars.

 

It has come:

the great calm

with its harvest of silence:

all lips have been sewn,

perhaps some wounds also.

And rebels,

my friends:

fill your vases with water

for spring is here:

in this blossoming

of wounds,

some roses may also.

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Rose Pink Flower

Zen

From:

The Rebel’s Silhouette

Selected Poems

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Translated By:

Agha Shahid Ali

 

Internet………

Skipping Boxes

Dave Beckerman 

 

Tomorrow

Internet

Tomorrow

Internet

Tomorrooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwww!

 Yea baby!

PS I still need a butt load of money. Womp!

Touch

Blood of Eden

Original Photography:

Gabriel Rigon

Nirvana Blue

Painting:

Mark Holland-Hicken 

 

 

Touch

 is

but

the

thread

we

see.

 

kimsmith

august 2007

 

QT Luong

Prayer Tablet

Nikko, Japan

Focusing Energy or Inter Net Less and Goodbye Ingmar

 Casein and Collage

Elly Simmons

I owe I owe so off the edge I go…….

 …..money, not Monday,  in money amounts incredible inedible…….to my land lady, who is an amazing woman.  Hiding has lost its effectiveness. I owe more people than just her but well, let’s face it, shelter is a fine dandy most days.

Hide me now please!

Right, pointless unless I choose a refrigerator box which I consciously decided not to do in my 20′s unless mandatory, that, and not be a prostitute. Decided it would damage my soul.

I cancelled my internet, it is a luxury. I am shutting off my phone, I can do without. I am not getting propane until my ankles get cold.

I am not a victim. I am money dysfunctional and hit a bit bump dee dumpty. Umm, really big. I can no longer get busted for an unregistereed car.  This is what I get for buying a car whose birthdate falls within the last 5 years. I was trying to secure passage to work.

What the fuck was I thinking? Oh right, I am an fucking English major who is spatially devoid of intelligence and cannot actually fix a car on my own most days. I was thinking my Dean said I have to get to fucking work.

Right.

I think she meant I had to get to the job.

Work is sometimes found at my job other times gazing at my navel, when I see it. Bodaciousness has infinites and limitations.

I have titled one poem: Red Riding of the Hood. Do I get extra credit for that?

You know, like my neighbors who firmly believe that if they live life a certain way they will meet God in heaven who has something just for them and no one else. My 12 year old evangalizing neighbor educated me on this. She is deeply worried about my soul and I cannot help her not worry.

Sigh.

So slinging hash and working for a living, you too can teach War by Luigi Pirandello, tonight’s lesson, by the way. Masks, baby, masks, the alienation of modern man, and the raging river life. Oh, and no, you cannot take College Algebra yet.

I just watched, engorged on, two Ingmar Bergman films: Wild Strawberries and Cries and Whispers. Each film had two different interviews, Ingmar spoke of his pedantry, his struggle, constant, for discipline. I had a revelatory moment: I am under the illusion that some are better at discipline than others, maybe not, maybe that is the illusion.

I am avoiding my own struggle.

Number 10 of Gallery 11

Darek Banesik

So, to real beauty, Bergman, my own little universe that would most certainly drown in narcissim without relativity: thank Einstien, my mother, Emily Dickinson, world news sources with photos of lives I work sweatfully to imagine and to fucking white russians with a clove cigarette.

Yea.

So there.

 By the way, I will take just a rose and a long dinner now, a friend gave me an air conditioner.

Good news for today:

It only feels like 106 degrees.

It is really only 98.

Really Reality.

 

Rolls of Hay

South Dakota, USA

QT Luong

 

To my hot summer days in the midwest………

 

 

 Cries and Whispers

Ingmar Bergman

 In an interview he said he saw three women in white in a red room. Then, he wondered what they were doing in this room?

 

 

Sea Turtle

Sea Turtle

Lisa Denning

 

 

swimming swimming through

the sea.

oh how old she could be.

 

 

by olivia smith

age 7
my i believe in fairies niece