Who Can Me?

Who can love me?
Bitter, sour heart that beats
Who can need me?
Vicious, cruel soul that bleeds
Who can save me?
Fractured, poisoned life of weeds
Who can see me?
Visible, hidden emotion that pleads

Can I love me?
Can I need me?
Can I save me?
When I am blind to see

Who can help me?
Broken, repaired mind of cracks
Who can relieve me?
Beating, tapping belief that is strained
Who can repair me?
Locked, unsecured eyes that weep
Who can hear me?
Muted, loud essence clamouring still

Can I help me?
Can I relieve me?
Can I repair me?
When I can’t hear myself?

Who can me?

Jade Smith
29/12/13

How And Why

How and why we do these things
To gain truth within all the lies
Weaving wired webs of deceit within conceit
Blurring the line between where and why
The little things that mean so much
Within the massive outcomes disregarded to fall
Fixating on the itch rather than the rotted twitch
Then to wonder why we reach nowhere at all

How and why we do these things
To perpetuate lies to envelope the truth
Knitting looms of answers clouded in hate
Blinding the barrier between the will and the why
The tiny things that awe and inspire
And the huge implosions that shatter with no dent
Blinkered by the it inside the backward thing
To then ponder why we achieved nothing at all

JS
23/9/13

Fleeting

Touched by a falling leaf
That’s not ready yet to concede
Whispered to by a fog
That is teetering between clarity and the gloom
Enveloped in a breeze of chance
Ready to both bring change or stagnation on through
In fleeting comes change and apathy
With no reason to what blind path we should choose

JS
10/10/13

Full Stops and Words

Words are merely full stops in a blank mind
Where once I had an idea now lies
                     only
                                          empty
                                                               lines

Bitter rubble of half built prison walls contain
The optimism in the knowledge these barriers
                     Once
                     kept
                     me
                     caged

A beautiful darkness pouring free from the light
Reminiscing in the shadows that scarring brings
                                                               New
                                          bleeding
                     to
              life

Walking on sand of pulverised spiteful glass shards
Worn down by determination and damned footfall
                     Carrying
                     on
                     without
                     regard

words are only pauses in a vacated mind
Where once there was hope now only lies forged
                     denial

JS
11/3/14

Missing

I have been missing
Not lost
Not misplaced
Unsure and yet not displaced

I have been missing
From mind
From soul
Seen and not out of place

I have been missing
Not searching
Not seeking
Stood still but rushed for pace

I have been missing
In hiding
In shadows
Needing heat but not this space

I have been missing
Still not found
Still not lost
A piece fragmented in mid race

I have been missing
Pen without ink
Paper without words
Stuck in statis behind stoney face

I have been missing
Not missing
Not unmissed
Surely certain and not displaced

JS
8/6/14

I Cried For You

I was young I cried for you
The tortured little girl that no one knew
Now I’ve grown realisation makes me see
That battered, frightened child resides in me
How I struggled and fought every day
For innocence should never be made to pay
But when ash settles and smoke becomes air
The aftermath is in basalt that’s never fair

Now I’m old I weep only inside
As tears for a soul fractured must always hide
I still see that child with hope despite fear
And wonder how it was invisibly eroded by years
The fight continues without a victor or loss
An internalised war of belief and sore cost
Battle ground lay scared and burnt without a flame
A child crying without defined reason is still to blame

When I was younger I cried for you
That tortured girl that no one knew
Now I’m older I weep only unseen
As now I realise that child was always me

JS
27/5/13

Rat – A Tat – Tat

Is this empty can you know?
When rust drips a plenty through skin and bone
Destiny entrenched in a prophecy fallen flat
Seeping and dripping still a rat-a tat- tat

Is this a waste land or treasure unknown?
What is the answer when acid tears through a home
Everything turned to nothing enchanted by doomed fate
Searing and fizzing on a buzz, buzz deflate

Is this undiscovered do you know?
When there are no footprints branded into stone
A path never twisting or leading to anywhere
Round and round the mountain tripped every teddy bear

Is this fulfilment that we cannot know?
Turned in a facet of rust and acid undertone
Destiny entrenched in a prophecy fallen flat
Seeping and a twisting how do you combat that?

JS
9/8/13

The Fall

Balancing on a glass pane edge
This could be everything and nothing in a fall
Murky clear understanding of what the state is
Yet without reason there is no comprehension at all
To the left or to the right it doesn’t matter
Both descents lead to the floor in the end
The only difference is one has softer cushions
And the other has been visited often before

To dive or to step off is the question
And the answer is derision in it doesn’t care
Whether by single step or full thrust there’s no difference
As the outcome can’t be known or as a bet called
The only difference is if it’s tentative or without care
Does it matter which way you start the fall?
When in the end when it comes to a heartache
All that matters is if you meet cushions or the floor

JS
5/9/13

Love A Thought

                     Love is fragile and yet strong, full but can be so empty. Love is happiness and loneliness, healing and yet lethal.
                     Love is both the same and opposite sides of the coin of life; so much so, that it becomes our greatest fear as well as our ultimate desire.
                     Those that have it often waste it, those who don’t scratch around for the crumb remnants of it. We spend so much time thinking about, searching for and then dissecting love that how often do we actually stop and just bathe in its encompassing warmth? How often do we just miss the fact it is actually in our lives, just not in the form we hoped for or expected?

JS
April 2014

Missing

What is missing?
The organ between the bars
A percussion beat turned to concrete
And an empty ache that no jailer can hide

Where are the pieces?
That came together a smooth whole
Now dust and ash from bone shard
Where once love was on dice cast

How is the reason
For all the losses still uncured
An abscess sore of salt in full bloom
To disintegrate the hope of spring soon

When will it return?
The fulfillment of a heart free
From stone concrete to the bars it belongs
Out of cold fires into pyres in full throw

JS
13/9/13