Browsing Tag

Poetry

In Memory of Kay Kim's Blogs

The Day of My Sister’s Funeral & ee cummings

 

( For Kay and every single woman who has ever been caged )

~~~~~When the devil executed my sister, it was like any other day.

I was mowing the lawn, listening to Ken Follett’s, Pillars of the Earth on my headset. I was at the part where the young boys in the castle were throwing rocks at poor, innocent cats just because they could. I was baking mandarin chicken in the oven for dinner. The sun was warm and luminous upon my face.

I received the call at 5:15 PM. “Did you hear…did you know…He shot…Mike killed Kay…Your sister K-k is dead….”

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Kim's Blogs

Really Honest Answers To Your Questions

 

(I’ve been asked these questions several times since blogging, & now I like to take the opportunity to answer them)

 

Pet-Peeves?

 

  • People who bump their food together as if to say ‘cheers.’ WTF? Drives me nuuuuts.

 

  • I cannot stand the thought of something (animals, humans, the environment) being abused, hurt, hungry, sad, belittled, or minimized in a world that has so much to offer.

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Kim's Blogs

Woman With Pen

1980-something.

 

My daddy says there are two Kim’s,

The one with pen and the one without.

 

I told him the “Real” Kim has pen—

Where she becomes wholly herself, where she

is set free, wild, unashamed.

 

She is a feral cat.

 

The one with pen is uninhibited, excessive, wears

Too much red lipstick. When she begins to

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In Memory of Kay Kim's Blogs

My Life So Far…

~As I look back on my life so far, everything I’ve experienced has directed me onto the path I am on now—-Kim Sisto Robinson

 

1980-something.

 

 

I come from Minnesota, Nassau, Bahamas, & Carnival Cruise Lines….

…where I drank long island teas, goombay smashes, and dealt black jack to movie stars like Telly Savalas, Louis Gosset Jr., rich oil tycoons, and dirty old men who blew raspberry scented smoke into my face at the old Playboy Club. Once- a man grabbed my ass; so the manager, Orlando Pastrana, ran over and told the creep to “LEAVE MY HOUSE Now!” I appreciated the gesture, although I could’ve protected myself, even at 20 years old.

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Kim's Blogs

We Are Not What We Think We Are, We Are What We Hide

We are not what we think we are, we are what we hide.” – Andre Malraux 

Tattoos.com/Are Tattoos Still the Kiss of death in the Work Place?

 

 

~Beneath his grey, sharkskin Ralph Lauren suit, I hear from a dependable source, perhaps somebody who knew him in a past life, an uninhibited life, that his arms are rich and fiery and rebelliously covered with tattoos: sleeves of black, blue, red, skin of verse, inky maps of who he truly is, or was, or wants to become. Again.

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