Standing, soaked, out in a storm, gusts of wind whipping my hair around wildly
Unruly strands sway with the song of chaos, pulling at my scalp, snapping, lashing at my face
My existence is all reality as this whirlwind tempest frantically thrashes about my flesh
In the complex puzzles and foolish games, a simple madness lives, and therein lies my freedom

My tongue and lips sometimes flap boisterously from their spot on my face
And the noises risen up from my throat, and passed through my mouth are meaningless blubberings
Involuntarily, I grin, tasting the nonsense's unique sweetness, and I swallow
My laughter rings out, a vociferous and untameable sound; humor, the voice of a crazy woman

And I spin! Oh, I spin and spin and spin, savagely, in ellipses, ovals, and circle shapes
I've no shame, and this dance is all mine, so I maniacally fling my arms through the air
And as my body makes its revolutions, a fierce smile curves the shape of my lips, wrinkles the corners of my eyes
Inside my mind, wandering - wondering if there's any real difference between elated insanity and that which I crave...

Some people might use words such as eccentric, strange, whimsical, and peculiar for what they cannot understand
So very often I hear these such words being used from those who speak of me
But it is them whom I perceive as being rather off, so habitual and boring, living like routine enslaved, joyless zombies
So unfathomable to me, why most everyone seems to desire nothing beyond a passionless, hollow schedule to, every day, just repeat

Me... I'll race barefoot down a gravel path, through lightning, thunder, and rain, only to feel my hair being twisted and tangled up in the wind
I'll jabber absurdities, laugh like a loon, all while I spin contentedly around and around, until, stupidly dizzy, I crash and fall
Madness pays little mind, stands without worries or concerns, because it believes - it knows, most nothing matters
This is my freedom, freedom that cannot be shared, for what it is, is something that's only freeing for me...

               ~A. D. Smithson   MARCH 2013

Freedom from our selfishness
Past behaviors, dead
Butterflies shed of cocoons

There's blood on my hand
That same "**** spot"
It won't go away
I will get caught

There's blood on my face
Shame to wash it away
But I mustn't lose my composure
The spot, though lovely, cannot stay

There's blood on my chest
I can't seem to find how to remove it
I do so like it, just where it is
But there'd be many of those who'd pitch a fit

There's blood upon my feet
I must find the way to make them clean
Not at all because I mind
Because blood ought not be something casually seen

The blood, it's stretched itself to be everywhere
With that savory, metallic scent
Sweet and salty, this crimson, tacky blood
And I'm the keeper of the secret; what this has all meant

O these slashes of blood, the drying puddles, brimmed with love
The power that is the grip of life
Shed now in a glorious display of our purest contempt
Flesh weeping after the stabbing, mangling by a bladed knife

The blood has painted me
Always shall it be there
No amount of scrubbing could wash these marks away
Scent eternal, lingering in the air

This bloods borne a stain on my soul
Death a companion who'll never be far
I'll hold hands and walk with it
To hell's blackest star

My mind is circling
my brain aches
all I crave is love
but at a touch I break
there can be no love
when emotions are impossible
outside of your own control
so I let chances slip on by
weakening, saddened through to my soul
as a child I bore composure
but now I have none
it was stripped away from me
leaving my heart cold; cold as a black sun
my life, my world so foggy and dark
hurting silently deep, deep inside
all I wish, someone to love, to caress
though I can't stop myself
from running, every time, to hide
there is one I could blame;
make my misery belong to him
he broke me;
wronged and defiled me
but what of myself,
my own inner faith and strength?
buried too well to exist,
or just too covered to see?
there's a high chance that I
do possess it within myself somewhere
but to seek it, my lack of courage
begs me not to even try
it may hurt but its easier
to keep it bottled up
yet I must persevere, or I'll never
find freedom;
I'd miss my chance to fly...

I think that you loathe me; wish curses upon my head
I can hear you now as you scream your obscenities to my name
Just because you know I can see you twitch and squirm
I'm waiting to witness the end of your doomed survival game

I may quite likely live on awhile longer
Still kicking and running while you sink and die
This brings me a power I can't help but to hold over you
There's not a thing I could do though, and my words are without lies

It was the divine creator who made you exist as my underlying *****
And I've no responsibility for my superior advantage
Never though, would you be capable of maintaining the tiniest semblance of control over me
Perhaps it's due to my choice made some days ago, and because I have been digging my ditch...?

I see no reason I shouldn't insist on finding enjoyment in all of this
For once I'm not the weaker being, and it's a long-standing dream coming true
Nor have I forgotten your fleeting moment of success, and feel peace knowing you'll never have another chance to hurt me ever again
Now a toast to my victory, and a toast to your demise, for we're arrived at the precise time for the ending of stage blue...

...I win by my perseverance's sweat, for I did as I was instructed to, and spent the necessary years required digging my own ditch...

We write the most beautiful things
and then, so abrupt is time, we end; pass on
after our deaths, we're dead and forgotten
unacknowledged, unmissed; just simply gone
every one of us lives this life with the need to be loved
each of us goes through life craving to feel as though we're needed
so we can write our lovely sentences
but it's worthless, for we can't escape our fate, and in the end we'll still die
the beings we were to become, no more than mere ashes in the wind
not worth even whispers to carry on our memories
so hurt thus fell these, our flowing words
our hearts consumed with bitterness; grey
years will continue to pass, none will visit our graves
our pages, our legacies shall sink; take solace with us in the ground
so we mourn now, thou still alive; oh how we sit, sit and cry
we don't really make sense
for why wouldn't we be loved by another when we for another can ourselves love?
perhaps unconscious self-contempt leaves us craving to feel neglect for our return
or perhaps we're just so terrified of being broken
we use our fears, rejections, anger and abandonments to write our most magnificent verses
why punish ourselves so, when time will still in the end overbear, and we'll all eventually perish?
oh, the merest of acknowledgments to such notions may as well rip our hearts from our chests
we may have fled truth, begging, pleading as we birth rivers of our blood, sweat and miserable tears
all alone then, without another soul in sight to wander with us while we roam deaths rocky beaches
So it's all of us who are broken, after all...

I fear it from an inside
My lips ~ refusal to move
Seeking fervently, shadows to conceal
   my existence; to hide
Drowning; morbid dying in the
   sorrowed soul's tears
Scavenging for my god
Digging for redemption, for salvation
Questioning my faith

I'm told, once again, to believe
That, only then, there will be a
   hope in which to receive

He calls out to me
Audible to my ears
His beckoning reaches to even my
   recesses darkest and deep

I'm washed away in a flood
Self-inflicted, torturous death
Fading
Then the whisper
'Go back to sleep'
Still, my weary mind rambles onward
Shattering into puzzle pieces
The artistic portrayal of who I
   truly am
Though, I find no one who could
   reconnect those pieces to again
    build ~ again create, a whole
So, I am broken, shattered, crumbling
   on a downward spiral

Yet again, He beckons
Calling out my very own name
"Oh Beautiful Daughter,
"I see not, your sins."

I fall to my knees
Utmost gratitude conceived
Though I remain too afraid to believe
I trust Him; words flawless to
   every form of life
It's, alone, myself I cannot face
My mirror's as shattered as my soul
Those weak, disgracing, foul steps
   I daily take
As I trudge down my chosen life
   path of misery
A path to spawn animosity, contempt,
   bitterness throughout
Victimization

And nevertheless, He follows
Offering continually His hand
The Divine Hand

I shutter at such a notion!
Oh! How I don't deserve!
My broken puzzle has cracked
   open my mask
Lies to be uncovered ~ lies of mine
Revealed by my subconscious' truths

I collapse to the earth
Piercing my body with stones
   and thorns
Pierced flesh, it bleeds
As was once shed upon a cross

Stop my feet now, please! Oh, stop me!
I'm running... running away
The light, so beautiful, so pure
I, a stain, to be cleansed; washed away

His voice, so powerful, yet gentle
   and loving
A child's perception of her father's
   tones
And now, a message He declares
   unto this mortal me
"Quit your resisting,
"Oh Beautiful Daughter of Mine
"It was for your sake I created
   the light of day
"Come now, My child
"I've spoken, and you are worthy
"Bathe yourself in the oceans of
   My grace's eternal waters"

My shattered fragments arise
Fitting together a work of art
   too undefinable to speak of
In this new found light of grace, I bawl
In new tears, I rejoice
I have felt my Maker's unconditional love; His grace
I've been possessed by His showering of love