Summer's Gone

This poem is not very good, but it expresses how I feel inside.

Summer's gone,
Like the falling leaves

Swept away
So little remains

That free, free feeling
Of climbing trees

Of kickin it old school
And laying in the street

The empty time
Filled with glee

All that remains now
Is time.

And the time goes on and on
Each day begins and ends

In a blink, in a flash
In a ripple, a flutter.

Moment upon moment
consumed by the drudge

Summer's gone.

A place, alone, and Soiled

Here are a few short poems I wrote over the last month or so...

A Place

A complacent place I find myself in
A place of arrested solitude

Can't find my way through my own simple self
There's a secret awaiting discovery.


Alone

Loneliness and being alone
are like fire and
brimstone of the heart.

The relentless pain scorches
the tender organ,
leaving scar tissue where
ventricles used to be.


Soiled

I feel as though I'm all alone
My thoughts dance ever aimlessly.

My body reeks of putrid filth
I feel like my own enemy.

My face, a sallow, rotten thing
Stares hatefully at me

My soul, a shattered tortured being
Wants me not to be.

I took a dagger, long and sharp
And cut upon my skin.

The blood flowed freely, red and dark.
The color of my sin.

Ruin

It’s a soft focus with a hard light.
Can’t make it work, can’t make it better,
Won’t take a no, but don’t know better.

Saving all my energy for the tribulated dead end
Making all my pensions pay dividends

Why my cries take heed to none?
Why my fright leaks tears till dawn.

Softly sorrow incapacitates
While smile fades and broken heart aches
And withered self tells of ruin…

But –

No one but me
Creates tragedy.

Tis I to blame
For this painful game.
And you an accomplice
To this venomousness.

And ruin.


Copyright © 2007 Katy M. Savage

Monday

It’s Monday and the lines are crossed.
The feelings that flow
Become sudden hate.
My mind, my breath, they both are short
Through gates of agitated chaos

The rain, the fear, the mellow tenderness
Have gone and desponded
And fell
Through the heavens…

And eve’s shallow winter gone…
Hath fate of youthful longing.
Tis utter despair to feel the wrath of my heart
Shuddering through its smoky forlorn.

Take me, blame me, rape me.

Mine is for you to disgrace.

I’ve earned my solitude in spite of my pain
My wound has earned me grace.

Embrace…

My cold flesh, my sunken heart, I must depart.


Copyright © 2007 Katy M. Savage

Dr. Jackson

Dr. Jackson's Metaphysical Return From Injustice © 2007 Katy M. Savage

Dr. Vincent Jackson "Croatstin" Horton III is a feral kitten that used to live under a dumpster behind a music studio in Pasadena... Although we thought we were "rescuing" him, the four-month-old absolutely hates us and runs away any time a human is near. At one point I thought he might like to live back outdoors only to discover that when I threw him out, he hung out in one spot for hours, waiting to be brought back inside. The guy's insane. I guess that's why he fits in.

Here are the original photos that I composited to create this image.

Internalized

she holds my hand
she tastes my flesh
her warm embrace
crawls up my thigh

she violates
her peril sits
upon my tender
aptitude

she pierces me
pierces my breast
the warm blood tastes
of emptiness

her blistered lust
becomes my pain
for she is me
my misery

Monster

"Monster" Acrylic on canvas
© Copyright 2006 Katy M. Savage

A self-portrait that I think speaks for itself. I've thought about fixing some things I see wrong with it, but leaving it in this raw form is important to me.

Self Image in Red

"Self Image in Red" Oil and paper on canvas
© 2006 Katy M. Savage

I painted this in April/May. I wanted to do something purely expressive without a plan, while still blending simple colors together. It expresses many of the emotions I've been feeling from the chaotic events in my life over the past few months. I hope to do more like it.

Wrought Around

"Wrought Around" ©2005 Katy M. Savage

I took this photo in a small garden in the middle of downtown Seattle.

Monet

"Monet" © Copyright 2006 Katy M. Savage

Monet waltzed into my life in early January 2006. A beautiful full-bred Siamese with luminous blue eyes and lustrous titanium fur, Monet sparkles with life and brings joy to an otherwise dark and brooding living space. She's my first pet ever, and I love her dearly. Plus she's crazy as hell so she fits in quite seamlessly.

Blanket

a warm and cozy wrap-around
(my heart it tightly coils)

thick and viscous layers of weight
(they keep my brain sedated)

to throw it off, to drop the cloth
would be a liberty

a freedom to erase the past
and everything I've done to me

(and he)

Waiting

"Waiting" © Copyright 2005 Katy M. Savage

I took this photo while waiting for a subway train in Manhattan in June of 2005. The subway system is at once inclusive and isolating, as thousands of complete strangers intimately share space and time, but seem to avoid human connection as much as possible. "Waiting" seems to capture this dichotomy as the cold construct of the tunnel functions as meeting ground as well as rigid barrier to its passengers.

Where to?

I'm in a rut.
I'm moving at the speed of backwards.
All my plans, are they plans at all?
Falter.
Father.
Why does he always pop up?
Who does he think he is?
Does he even care?
Maybe I shouldn't.
Meanwhile I'm here.
Still.
Where does the time go?
Where did my mind go?
Can't speak.
Can't dream.
Dreams are for the living.
Living is a luxury these days.

Denial

she walks in hollow acclimation
through the world they made for her
ventures naught for hesitation
wishing not to feel the pain

she took a piece of hardened cloth
and covered up her precious skin
bit by bit she'd covered all
hoping not to feel again

with non-translucent blackened covers
not a soul could penetrate
to find and wound her sacred self
at last all feeling had abated

so she walked, her vision blinded
cynical and callous she
decimated souls of others
free from feeling empathy

but freedom was the price she paid
her heart was bound and paralyzed
removed from hurt but also joy
too numb to feel her self, denied

so she walks in acclamation
through the world she made for her
wading deep in degradation
her only hope lies in the pain

Skin

skin of me
disease
hiding what
a husk
no soul
a self devoured
staring
at an empty shell
hell.
torture.
pain.
disgust.
can't trust
me, the me
diseased.