Friday, December 18, 2009

Look What Feel Out Of The Sky

By Jan M Smith

Something fell onto my shoulder
Or maybe it fell into my heart
It was the betrayal of another friend
Another from whom I shall part

That something was disrespect for my person
It was treating my heart as if it were worth spit
She said to me "God it was nothing"
"We both were just drunker than shit".

Well, let me tell you something my "old" friend
My old friend who never really was
You knew he had broken my heart with another
And what you did was something, and it gives me pause.

Why did you hide it and go away and not tell?
Why did you deceive your husband and me?
Because it was wrong and you know it you bitch
Just another turd to hang on your lifes empty tree.

I have quite a collection of slut friends it seems
How in the world did all you girls grow up to be whores
My husband is not that handsome, please, are you so empty?
That you cannot look somewhere else to score.

So bye bye, see ya later, hit tha road, we are done
I am through with the likes of people who think like you
If you had said, "I am so sorry, I have regretted it all these years"
I may have got through this, after I cried this bucket of tears.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

White Wash

By Jan M Smith, 12/2009

If you scratch at it's surface
If you peel away all the dirt
You may get to smell the nasty
That lurks in the soul of his work

It really was not the way that you think
Not so awful, so crude, so full of filth
It was somehow more sterile and clean
Somehow she was not a pig he winks

Oh hell yes she was a pig a slut a whore
She was not a friend, she was trash on my floor
But you were a pig too my friend, it is a fact
You cannot white wash over this any more

I am disgusted by both of your acts
I am disgusted by the woman that you chose
I am disgusted by what a liar you both have been
I am disgusted that everyone knows

So put your paint brush back in your pocket
Put that bucket into the trash
Maybe she will catch it when you dump it
So it won't hit her in her fat ass.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Mr. Bored Room

By Jan M. Smith

What is a man, is he flesh and blood, or is he a weed in the field waiting to be plucked and thrown to the wind?

I say he is but a piece of chafe and not worthy to be plucked. He is a mindless fool in the days of his youth and glory, only interested in what he can conquer and where he can throw his seed. He thumps his chest and climbs the stairs of life, regardless of where they lead him whether to the top of the board room or the to the bedroom of another man's wife. He spends his life building a family that he has no care for, he slings it to the side for the glow of younger women so he can crow from that nest on the 16th floor. All the while his wife and children watch him with hollow eyes, hungry for his attention, for his touch, and he garners strength from this need, it makes him strong.

But, oh too soon, his children no longer care, they no longer hunger for his touch, his skin to them feels cold like a snakes, papery and thin, and their eyes are indifferent as his are pleading and his voice laughs as he talks to them of times that he remembers they shared, which never were. They look at him with sorrow and indifference, eager to get on with their lives, he reaches for them, and only grasps the air, and his back is bent with time, his skin is loose with age. The chest that he thumps is hollow and sunken and as he never had a heart for anyone but himself; his heart is small.

He turns to his wife who waited by his side, and became bitter and sad with time. He made the decision at an old age to rid his conscience of his sins and with this to destroy her life. Her eyes are sad and indirect. They look at nothing. They have lost their glow, their depth. They see a man that gave his body and soul to others and now tells her she was always the "only one he ever loved" and is supposed to think this is a gift. She lay awake at night and wishes that he would die or leave so that she could breathe. Her life is over as she knew it. His eyes that enchanted her disgust her, they are fading and empty, his breath smells of filth, his body is soft and gone to seed. There is no happy. They love each other no more, but they pretend to struggle toward it.

Now he is living his life in the bored room. It is the trophy of his life and it is the one that he deserves. He is an empty, soulless man. Too shallow to be evil. Too thoughtless to be smart. Too selfish to see the hurt, the real hurt he has caused all those around him. He will say, "I am so sensitive, can't you see this", meaning "I am a tittie baby and want someone to feel bad for me because I have fucked up my life". Tough shit.