Drunken Summer Night with Jeannie

Some state of mind -
head swimming,
glasses breaking,
speaking, holding onto words
that should have been eaten.
Loving laughing in this foggy darkness…

something talking,
buzzing, living.
Vodka stained counter
and hard strained typing
with Technicolor on the big screen!

Never underestimate
the power of a loving friend,
hug with a tear stained face
and drink mixed breath.
We all live and love,
never making sense…
but we don’t need to
we have our own language.

Hold You Hopeful

She shouts in my ear
screams of rage and pain.
This pain of course is not her own -
a version of what mine might be
if not numbed by the ice chipped
from your shoulder,
your heart.

She tries not to tell me
of fork tongued revelations.
Sparks fly from her very syllables
forcing me to cringe.

I laugh out loud
trying to hide the urge
the urge to strike the nearest breath
the nearest smile.

I offered explanations
of what part of this had rotted.
I offered my mind
but my soul somehow
was forgotten.

You own a part in the heart
that beats readily in my chest.
She wants more of it, for
she feels you can’t treat it well.
The bruise you’ve caused it eating
sinking, biting, gnawing over
the dotted line she made.

This is why!
This is why!
She repeats.

But I still hold you
hopeful.

You were once

Unrealistic – unreal
booze soaked something
in a private world.
The echoing or a mechanical ring
helps bring me back –
reality
save me.
Answer.

Voice strung through
a nothing, just a name.
Conversations with a ghost
laughter nonexistent.

Gone? Nothing is ever gone?
Right?
Wrong.
You told me to never stop writing
never stop
never stop
tormented chant for the one
who is silenced
by her will to make me curl…
into a ball, under a bed, sleeping
not resting.
Believing not reacting.

I wish to hear the real you
once again
I fear the never again
I want to hear the ringing
again
I dream of…
you

A Need to Vent

I feel the overwhelming urge to write something. I know exactly what I wan to write, and who I want to read it - but the simple fact is neither of those things are going to happen. I will end up feeling sorry for lashing out and delete half of it. The other part is I know that the friend that I want to read this will not even know it's here. The friend that I am writing this for is slowly leaving my life it seems and I don't have any idea why. It hurts more than any possible words could say. Namely because this person is one of my best friends, I love her more than she will ever know and not being able to hear her voice or get a message from her everyday is heartbreaking. I mean, I try my hardest to concentrate on other things like homework and classes... and my friends here at school; but it always goes back to her. Because she was a huge part of my support system. With her not here it feels like part of my immune system is down and every possible thing that I could catch, I am and every bad thing that could possibly happen to me is happening. It feels like it is just because she isn't there. Now, I feel like crap saying all these things when I have the rest of my group of friends who talk to me on a daily basis... but it's just different now. I can't explain it, all I know is we both understood each other better than anyone it seemed, and both of us knew how to calm the other down. The hardest part about this whole thing, is that I don't understand why all this is going on. I just don't. And that kills me. I just wish her to know that I love her and miss her more than she will ever know. I know this wasn't much of a blog, it didn't make you think or help you understand something. It wasn't me being poetic and writerly. But you know what? It feels better for ME to get this out and sometimes, I think that's all that counts. 

I Give This To You

I find this notebook,
in a poetic surge,
left under hills of spent tissues.
A longing to write
has been trapped inside
my façade of well being.

I breathe to the rhythm that
is not my own
- if life lets breath come
at all –
and I struggle to find something
of you.

Within it pages,
this tattered book,
holds words – terrible verses –
meant to remind me that
you are a friend worth fighting
for, losing rest for.
Sometimes I think you forget
the midnight calls and smiles
I’ve gotten – given.
Eyes water to think of you gone
your scent and voice
only story lines in my mind.
This, my fear.

So I replace the book,
with newly inked pages,
under the tissue hills
that have risen to mountains.

Memories: Wanted and Unwanted

My memories are the most precious things to me in my life. Without them, I wouldn't be the person I am today. My group of friends and I are starting a book of memories - a scrapbook if you will. If you have seen the movie "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood", it will kind of be like the book in that. Three of us started work on it tonight, and haven't laughed so hard in a while. We looked through pictures and read through quotes that made us laugh so hard that we couldn't breathe and tears were streaming down our faces. My friend Laurence, while looking through one of my quote books, told me that she wished she could cross out all of the quotes by a certain person. This person was a big part of my freshman year in college, but no longer part of my life. I told Laurence that as much as I wanted to cross out everything she ever said, I won't do it. All I am going to do is write at the beginning of the book something like: "There are things in this book from people I no longer wish to think about in my life, but I will never get rid of any of it because it is a part of my life. I have to keep it there to remind me what I went through with them and how it has affected my life. How it has made me a better, stronger person than I used to be". I think that people have to remember that even though some memories hurt to think about, they were there for a reason. And whether or not you realize that they have made an impact on your life or not, they have. Everything you encounter in your life pushes you to the person you are meant to be. And you have to remember the people that treated you like shit just as much as you have to remember the people that helped to raise you up and love you. I have even said a mental thank you to some of the people that have brought pain into my life. Simply because they are the ones that have given me the strength to keep going with my life. Don't belive in me, love me, care; and see how far I go.

Advice

Breathe babe.
Cry, let it all out.
This is the advice that I get all the time. It is also the advice I give, it's the most affective advice to give... sometimes.
I was taking notes on a book that I was going to present to my Non-Fiction class. The book was Letters to a Young Poet, they were all letters to a man from Rainer Maria Rilke. In these letters he gives the man (Mr. Kappas) different forms of advice for all different topics. Going back and reading my notes, I went off about advice. I mean, I completely left the topic of the book. Rilke gave this man such in depth advice. His thoughts on love regarding this mans life took up almost four pages. It is wordy, well thought out. Sometimes, as I wrote in my notebook, this is the best advice. Because even though it will take you more than a second to hear it, and it is not two words long, it gets you thinking. Thinking is the best thing to do when you have no idea where to turn or what to do next. Wordy advice makes you wade through the sentences, pick them up and examine them. Maybe dust them off and find their true meanings. This will eventually bring you to an answer, even if it is not the same answer the words are spelling out before you. It still got you to think.
There are sometimes, that all I will say is
I love you, and I always will. No matter what, I am here for you.
And that is all I need sometimes. But I will go swimming in words every once in a while ;)