words

these are some of my poems. of the myriad i've written, these were some that i liked the best.

"it looks like everything is finally falling into place for you," she said.

words through the window
and my innocence on the stereo
STEREO TEARS

and I am enveloped in Dolby Digital surround
best fucking speakers in town
they only play the past
and they only play for me

"you don't give people enough of a chance," she said.

benefit of the doubt is for suckers
especially when you already see an outcome
presented from both sides and presented at one
it's an AC/DC thing...

kristin kummet, 6.20.03

never why

i'm loving a fixture. and when the headphones had to come off, the music left my ears naked and i was surprised at who it was before my eyes, because it most certainly wasn't the fixture i expected. why i expected my fixture to voluntarily mobolize, i don't know why. i don't know that i'll ever understand the why, as in why we desire the orgiastic, chaotic element of surprise in our lives. i was told at age fourteen that people who wore black harbored a lot of anger. i wear black. how is a fourteen year old expected to deal with that? that same year i was told i had an old soul. again, the problem of interpretation. what should i have done with that information and why? the why was abandoned for my jocularity of those who told me what i couldn't understand. but twice my life and some years later, i now see that both those people are right; i couldn't have known then, but why, why i know for certain now, made blatantly obvious in my presentation of myself to a current co-existing shadow. and to listen to her, an unwanted shadow, i'd imagine that life were easy, her simplistic, child-like indecisiveness. my life would kill you, you woman-child open-book soothsayer. i opened my mind not because i was told to but because it was me, and though most assume you must be so brave, so insatiated in hunger for knowledge, i've never met a four-year old more shut off from what is at the end of their nose. i thought children were supposed to be inquisitive. only inquisitive children lead to productive adults. i was an inquisitive child. but even so, i shall know never why, why always this feeling of running, from who or what i don't know and to what end my means search for will reveal itself never. and so the babysitting of that four-year old woman-child still can't free my mind from its fixated fixture, the homeostasis of our relationship killing each homeo with its stasis. why i dwell on the idea, i don't know, for if i mobilize my fixture it is possible that maybe i'd be too afraid to love it. but as it stands my fixation is not conducive to sanity in these caustic surroundings, listening to her questions of why, why indecisiveness, really insults in disguise, and pseudo-admiration of someone she could never be nor should ever want to be. never why the removal of the headphones doesn't reveal fixtures of truth until far too long after the fact.

-kristin kummet, 3/7/03

you'd never guess by my smile
i'm so disgustingly well-adjusted now
and if they told me they'd found her in a box somewhere, i'd just smile with the door still in hand
owning nothing but spite, not checked at the door
air wrought with distaste for that whore
unspoken battle heavier than life

the only thing i'm sorry for is that i'm not sorry.

it's taken a leviathan to reveal the worst in me, and grown larger with satsifaction.
no bad dream fucker's gonna boss me around.

-kristin kummet, 12/6/02

my head is on the brink of exploding like a supernova what a week it's been only one mere second in the scheme of things it started when I sent him home like a bird flying away so I sent myself to bed because THIS IS MY TIME THIS IS MY NOW THIS IS MY EVERYDAY and I was denied my rite of passage by a man who seemed to be a figment of my past so I went to a show and lingered in my dancing moments the rastafari chic smelled and swayed orgasmically to the music maybe because the show was opened by cex? and the frontman was hot and the chai was as good as ever and I wished my bird was there but was glad he wasn't and my spirits were high for I'd been in my neighborhood the one where the two greatest of cities meet and fornicate and it made me happy to be there and I wished I could capture the rapture of the moment because THIS IS MY TIME THIS IS MY NOW THIS IS MY EVERYDAY and then I worked hard and worked harder not to go insane and spoke to a figment of my present who worried over troubles of future and I listened to the music loud and then louder because I really just didn't want to think about it so I slept on it and ate lunch with an increasingly drunken patriarch and it came as no surprise when neither party had nothing to say for we truly don't know each other and small talk can only go so far so I drove fast and turned the music louder because there is truly nothing freer than the freeway and I thought about this later as I silently protested my foreign oppressors but their force won't last long I quit my job today and even though I'm not sure what to do about it employment did not in the least consume my thoughts and I saw someone partaking of my fantasy world so I pretended we had been before how was the show I asked him and his smile was more response than my fucking great could have been because THIS IS MY TIME THIS IS MY NOW THIS IS MY EVERYDAY I couldn't pretend all night for I had someplace to be and she was nice and so I ran to go get holy and in my flight I glanced up to see my rearview mirror engulfed by a harvest moon and so I drank more coffee to speed up my already racing heart because adrenaline can't nearly be enough these days and I made it there late but just in the nick of time and my head was swarming with the flies of thought and of God and truth and right and once I had relieved myself of a momentary burden I was able to sit still and contemplate the soothing man's words which were completed soon thereafter so I watched them undress the altar and leave it naked and so I sang and as I left I drove slowly the meditation had left me calm my head quiet because THIS IS MY TIME THIS IS MY NOW THIS IS MY EVERYDAY and so soon I shall partake of dead artifacts who roll over in their burial plots as the collective insolent WE misinterpret their donations to beauty and tomorrow I'll find out if perhaps my matriarch knows me better and I'll think and meditate and pray and then be impressionistic and go solo hoping someone if not a certain someone then anyone is listening before celebrating the resurrection of this long strange trip only to wake up and start it again

kristin kummet
3/28/02

my body leeched from the inside out
i've swallowed my pride, but still i cannot
figure out how to reach that perfection

he's like another, his other mother, motherfucker.
non-negotiable friend of everyone (like his predecessor)

when did i learn to be ugly?
discomfort in my own skin
my disconcerted, uneffectual form of control.
i will fabricate myself to protect my soul.

turned down, turned out, to remove those worries from me.
side comments from the sidelines can never perpetuate a we.

it's the only way, alone the only trial. of truth. and self-absolution.
i won't take that day trip to see you, your daytripper easy fuck to fuckover my soul.

i am proud, loud is gonna be my voice of assertion, i want my way.
points of interest lose interest as i lose my voice my only choice to save my happiness.
i am me, and i am FUCKING RIGHT.

-kristin kummet
10/1/02

shorn locks vulnerable as a shorn sheep. really, what difference does it make?
feigned smiles feigned friends but for what purpose. politics. is a purpose.

my cut feet can only walk so far while trespassing. and this day can only get so bad.

UNREQUITED. all is unrequited. and beauty is a lie.

words is words is birds is flying away is he'll never stay is never.

fuck words.

and i was scared because i saw something i thought the others invented.
but there was truth in her lies.

you're a flirt you're caught you're bought but never sold because i felt betrayed.
in front of my never-growing, never-ceasing green eyes.

cold is the solace of a spoon and ice cream.
but can the ice calm the red-hot rage of pain in my ear, my heart, my womb, my feet?

pulsating. analgesics necessary but never sufficient.
please just numb me to the pain. if i can experience life without feeling it, i shall never be hurt.

i bought my ticket, can i have a ride, too? the ride is closed, you say?
the ride always closes when my ticket is up next...

-kristin kummet, 6/14/02

when words fail you are nothing more than an imposter. in your own life.
smile their gratitude, is it for me or you?
and i could learn to hate just like you. and you could learn to love just like me.
i am completely equivocal. grandiose. mediocre.

burning scalp, burning eyes. i can't believe that the blue and gold are mine.
mind torn a million ways from tuesday.
forfeit sleep, forfeit feeling.

except anger. fear.

-kristin kummet, 6/6/02

thoughts consumed.
love bloomed tried conscience
mixed quotients tight squeeze
harsh breeze cigarette smoke
eyes choke don't change
phone rang dead receiver
filled with ether guitar chord
can't afford to be caught
fingers wrought different worlds
strange words hide truth
personal worth livid air
girl fair truth known
between two shown quick glance
second chance? burn, burn
fire consume happiness lives
what freedom gives personal fire
limitless desire anger power
words cower
he will never know.
his antithesis will never know.
my words will never meet the air,
lest i choke and die.

kristin kummet, 4/22/02

if i just let this flow
will my deceptions of myself
prove true?

you're 600 miles away
and though you just left this morning,
i didn't fully appreciate you
until you were gone.

we were walking with you
i was walking with me
smoking your cheap cigars.

i remember that night as though it was yesterday.
a metaphor for our entire relationship.
a photo of the now would reveal a non-existent personhood, struggling with a simplistic state of existence.
since we're both trying to reinvent ourselves,
how can we determine the course of an us?

we were walking with you
I was walking with me,
smoking your cheap cigars.

-kristin kummet, 3/24/02

CIGARETTE

faintly smelling of smoke.
amazed at how it reminded me of you.
and i hated it. and reveled in every particle of odor. because it was yours.
i could run forever, but it wouldn't be far enough.
from my doubts. but i will be male enough to file them away, let them go, and free my mind.
FROM YOUR SCENT, AND THE THOUGHTS IT EVOKES.
i could watch you smoke it down, choke it down, and want to shove it down your throat.
and with it you can consume your lies.
and pledge allegiance to another.
THE SMOKE.

-kristin kummet, 2/10/02

i stole away in the night
my boxes packed, my senses locked
tears proof it was necessary.

convulsing crying lying on the floor
cathartic but not for pain
words can't possibly be powerful when their masters tremble under the
WEIGHT
of them.

a body absolved of its toxins and sin
weightless in life, lifeless in sleep
i must sleep so i can dream, dream so i can exist.

-kristin kummet, 9/7/02

one of a one, nor one of a two
i'm neither, nor never will be both.

i am confined by my mind, which attacks the body, which eats at the happiness of the soul.
familiar music reminds me a simpler time, though if you'd have asked me about it then, i might have died.

SELF ACTUALITY comes only with death.
therefore, true love is nonexistent, if existent, then innate, if not innate, too fucking real for me.

-kristin kummet, 8/19/02

car horn beeps city streets creep along sweating pavement crawling buildings grab for the horizon wishing to be set free of the burdens of their inhabitants their neon lights burst through the closed night air raining down on the car passed by a man maybe he's a mugger or a drug dealer or a serial murderer but lonely and just needing love but his tattoo suggests religion so could he be a holy man? but the street lights change so he stops and yields to the unhappy traffic fighting their way to life roaring past too fast for the narrow streets lined with the perfectly parallel parked cars glistening with reflections of stars each telling the story of its driver or passenger letting view into a glimpse of a personal life of someone wandering down the streets or eating in a small cafe and the bludgeoning force of a green light kills the view of this beautiful city block.

-kristin kummet, 3/30/02

perhaps i've found my betterman.
any decisiveness about him died with my desire to be near you.
i did not before understand the depth of my SACRILEGE.
how far shall i take it?

father daughter
lover lover

as i sat, complacently, watching your hands caress the strings, and pondered
your choice of shoes, I remembered the original. Are you him?

father daughter
lover lover

is it my fault i keep such aged companions?

pet name pet name
candy candy

my certain someone, you were not listening when I ran to go get holy.
i desire your physical closeness. I desire your emotional closeness. you are beauty
EMBRACED.

-kristin kummet, 4/12/02

money equals the American dream
from left to right the rich survive
and take for granted all that was
ever known as true

we chastize, protagonize, and agonize
will you sell your soul
so that someone else could live?
I could've guessed as much
but some have been so tried and such

that as we cry for what is ungiven,
they grow stronger.
stronger than I'll ever be.

kristin kummet
1-23-01

one week since you've seen me
two words since we've spoken
and one hell of an eternity in between.

but after all the dust settled
around all that you revealed,
my tears still could not empty themselves
of you.

kristin kummet
1-23-01

DROWNING OF A HYPOCRITE

I'm finding ways to deal without you.
sometimes I wish I'd never seen your face.
but for as third grade and third-rate
as I may be, are you truly gone?

the red-letter opening shackled my eyes
and burned you to them.
I'd read books, seen a couple of films.
I thought it was to be so.

if only I'd opened my myopic little eyes
and seen what wasn't there.
at least I'd been hypocrite enough
to pussyfoot around your shadow.
I tested the waters. Bone-chillingly deep.
I swallowed, gulped, drowned
... and somehow found my way
to the surface again.
I wish I could remain buoyant forever.

kristin kummet
2-8-01

3000 miles high
look out over the wing
my sandal-clad feet hit the floor
stumble to the back
but it's occupied (like my brain)

kristin kummet
2-27-01

unforgiven
i was livid
your putrid words
do evil deeds
i can't forgive you now

the one i had trusted
you weren't supposed to feel that way
i fucked myself over
so i could say "fuck you"
i can't forgive you now

your deception
your confession
crushed my soul
made me cry
remniscient of earlier days

my drowning sorrow will come for you
when i can forgive you

kristin kummet
7-11-00

BOBBY DYLAN

I've stopped defending myself against the rhetoric
and I've stopped myself from being what you want me to be
but you make me laugh, and sometimes cry, right through
my dry eyes.

the car moved faster than the words you revealed.
I guess that's why I let it go.

The image I've projected forth isn't all there is to me,
Mr. Conveniently Non-Committal, but hell, you've opened
hypocritical doors for me.
I don't own you, just as you don't me.
Not now, anyway. Before, maybe; yes.
I was sickly sycophantic.
I think I've grown some; you've given me a healthy
outlook on life now. Dylan was great, but he never played
"Tangled up in Blue." That's MY song.
Or "I want you." that could have been our song.
But it's okay. The night was so fucking cold, and I'm really sick now. But wasn't it great?
Until the car. But I thank you, however, for your blatant honesty. Where might we be without it?
You have that amazing gift of honesty, but only
when it's convenient for you.

I still want you. I still want you to complete my
anti-concept of love. I still love your smile. I still love your touch. I could marry you.

kristin kummet
10-29-01

put the helmet on. it provides protection

from those who drop bombs around you.
watch your feet.

we cover ourselves behind a mound of dirt
so that others cannot see us.

but the others are not our ENEMIES.

so why are we hiding?

because bombs are still being DROPPED.

watch your feet.

kristin kummet
8-25-99

I see the world how I see it:
always choosing, yet uncompromising, as it uses its best defenses against itself.

To find where we are amidst the rubble that is the rest of ourselves, the outer casings of lives that are so complex one cannot even begin to comprehend.

virtuous vultures of voracious deeds.
we fight or we flirt to get what we need.

Model us after a movie scene so that one day we can be on the tv screen as we change ourselves to be more like another, who is bound only to want to change themselves as well.

sleepless sighs cover frightened cries.
a death covered up by bright blue skies.

Pound the nail deeper into yourself but don't come crying to me asking for help, crying that it's not your fault that you are the way you are.

Yesterday, the sun set on paradise.

kristin kummet
5-10-00

MINDFIELDS

scorching words explode from my mouth
not mentally intended, but they are aimed at me.

the vultures of my mind have no recluse
I tried being nice, but it's no use
I'm insecure

Stop screaming, and you'll stop crying
Stop blaming others, and you'll stop trying not to be yourself.

I can verbally beat you, but you are me.

kristin kummet
8-8-00


				*independent entropy* *words*



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