Monthly Archives: April 2012


At one time . . .

At one time you would have been happy with such
At one time it would have been enough
At one time you wouldn’t be questioning such things

At one time those things wouldn’t have mattered
At one time you never would have had those doubts
At one time we had forever and time was irrelevant

At one time I thought that things were going to change
At one time I believed our love was all that mattered
At one time I believed nothing could get in our way

At one time I thought you wanted me as I you
At one time I thought you couldn’t live without me
At one time I was a fool believed in a dream

At one time that dream was my truth
At one time that dream was meyou

Now you’re just that boy behind a locked gate
I tried for years but never could reach

©2012 jill

The Man

It must be nice to be the man that decides his own destination
No matter what responsibilities or others he leaves behind
No matter what anyone may or may not have planned

No matter how sick or in need of care
If the sun is shining he’s off on two wheels
Going wherever he wants and calling it work
To hang out at biker bars and chat with known whores

It must be nice to be the man with no conscious whatsoever
To see her sitting in the corner crying, pretend he doesn’t
Offer no comfort and just walk right on past

It must be nice to be the man who only needs money in his pocket
Because the one he neglects, yet claims to love works her ass off
To pay for his medical needs and all of his household bills

It must be nice to be the man who says fuck it and tosses the paper aside
The one that had only two questions needing answered
The one that would have left them with something if he dies

It must be nice to be the man spends his life in his cave
Crossing in the hall or on the way out the door
Only two reasons for him to ever come inside
Indoor plumbing and a nice soft bed

It won’t be so nice to be the man
Who wakes one of these mornings in complete oblivion
To find everything gone but her lingering scent

Why do you think she’s packing her boxes
Why do you think she avoids you at all cost
Why do you think she cries in the night

Yet it will be her fault when she leaves you
Because there isn’t a single thing wrong with you

So next time you see me if I haven’t already left you
Passing liters of blood on the floor turning grey
And you can’t get a signal to call 911
It’ll be because I said Fuck it and didn’t pay your bill

So suffer you worthless son of a bitch
Stand there helpless and watch me die
And if you thought I was worth more to you
Dead than alive

Guess again mother fucker and take it up with HR!

©2012 jill

Dearest Alix,

Would you make me a beautiful corpse, for all the world to see – then turn me to ash and release me to the breeze. For my life light shines so very dim, and I’m all out of bulbs to make it bright again.

~ jillie



Detached I had become
From all that surrounds me
Seeing things from a skewed and twisted perception
Seeing – but not through my own eyes

Focusing on nonsensical aspects
Letting the truth slip away
Allowing myself to free fall
Because of it

Then the long dark cloud blew in
Forever looming – blocking out the light
All light – leaving an abyss of blackest pitch
Bent on destruction and slow painful consumption

Finding myself once more at the threshold
Not heaven’s pearly gates
Nor hell’s flaming lakes
Simply death – nothing more

Not once but thrice
Back into the corporeal world
Desperately I was pulled

By the very light I allowed to be diffused
Due to lack of faith, fear and doubt
The blinding light that never fades
Never goes out – transcends all


The eternal light of LOVE
Borderless – all powerful – Infinite
Highlighting the subtle insignificance
Of so many aspects upon which we place importance

The scale by which all else should be measured
The one clear path to truth – understanding – happiness
The only guide I will ever again follow

Throughout the remainder of this life
Into my death – onto the next

~ jill


just thinking

Cole multi-tasking –
with me in hospital
doing homework
listening to music
texting Alyssa
just being himself

More than being an awesome kid – kind, caring and genuine, more than being an honors student, more than the talent he possess, more than his determination to follow his passion and make his dreams happen, more than his inherent ability to see past the facade and truly see things the way they are; today I am thankful for having successfully raised a free-thinking individual.

My greatest accomplishment to be sure – and my real gift to the world . . .

~ jill


Left Behind

Each time I feel myself slipping away
Body and spirit beginning to separate
Affixed with a single transparent cord

World turns grey then fades to black
Numbness sets in all pain subsides
The closer I get to Deaths waiting door

Elements taken as I’m snatched back away
Shadow residuals that will always remain
Left to linger as I return from the brink

Back to life
Forever changed

©2012 jill terry

The gentle knock upon my door

The Chaplain drops by
Checking my progress
Multiple times
Questioning my faith

Asking continuously
If there’s anything I need
Anything at all
He can do for me

Do I want to talk
Would I like to pray
Have I had any visitors
What about support system

Are you sure you’re alright
He says with a smile
Sitting as if to stay
Making my skin crawl

I assure him
I’m just fine
No need to stay
No need for concern

If you need me
He said…

No matter the time
Just tell the nurse
I’ll be here all night

And as I turned to watch him go
I felt my hair brush cross my back
And realized the view
Upon entering my room

As I sat cross legged
In the middle of my bed
Gown hanging open
Mjölnir exposed

Tonight I want my door locked
At the end of the hall
Round the corner from the stairwell

But I know they won’t allow it
So I say no to the pain meds
To sleep with one eye open

As this man is no man of the cloth
Using God to come round to call

Behind his wire-rim glasses
and cheap button up shirt

I look in his eyes past the Veil
And find deviant desires with deadly intent
And one hell of a giant fucking Freakbox

©2012 jill terry


Red birds chasing
Dipping, chirping
Precision swerving
Through the trees
Breeze blows soft
Sun streams warm
Two shadows dance
On forests floor

©2012 jill terry

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