Tag: journal

Round

I don’t know how the world ends, But I think this is how it begins As I walk outside, and whisper to the squirrels rustling beneath the deck: “It’s okay, I’m a friend.” And I know they feel me because I feel them Things have changed Welcome to the movie of our lives Suddenly, I…

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Wellbutrin

It’s hard to return to form, After my last poem felt like pissing myself in public – the evidence of my pettiness: vulgar – No Diogenes am I But what am I to do, erase it, like some photo, imperfect – nah, Rather honor depression, though it hath left such deep lesions, And in them,…

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Still Cry

A quick one for Sarah; I’m’a burn one, write one, take one more trip around the sun: For Her whom I wouldn’t be Me without – And maybe my name is blood on her tongue and tastes of iron, sweat, hemoglobin and metalloproteins; Heaven knows our toil, I, of the sea // her, of the…

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Beneath Dirt

I got nostalgic the other day, Wished we were going to Jah Healing, Stater’s, and back to the cabin, But it was never that great in real life – We were too depressed, too out of love, too unimpressed with each other – The dogs deserved better than that, And I hope they have it;…

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at a time

the hurt grows heavier with time; all of this – without the friend(ssss) and family, to whom Lawrence is no longer alive – but this is just a sidebar, an aside: for I have my inner-child to provide for – to harbor – and we’re hardlly there, libidinal unclear, shellshocked, in repair, collide; what a…

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Damnit Lenise

the sadness deep: pain; poetry’s the only place the awake speak plain – maya, illusion, plato’s cave, we’re the shadow puppets they watch, on whose downfall sus glances pray from those who long fearing our rise, made sure we were imvisible to naked eyes, in poverty, blind, at the center of some labrynth

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Some Ketchup

The first night you can’t sleep. You never sleep the first night. It’s not the discomfort but the excitement. The liberation. As a yoga teacher told me, “Happiness comes from liberation, and liberation comes from freedom, and freedom comes from courage.” So brave. So fucking brave. What won’t I do. So here I am, shirtless…

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pastel-pink

It’s the little things, The girl who saw me walking behind her and held the girl’s room door open for me – though I just came out of the men’s… I suppose I want women to feel safe – A spell of jiu-jitsu classes and the pepper spray on my purse is my surety, But…

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my best

been doing it, my best no crutches, real sobriety; feelings, and a vulnerability that leaves me more aware than afraid bc I heard the truest words last night, when the checker at the grocery told me: “be careful out there”, and I knew just what he meant; the vulnerability is palpable, as real as the…

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somebody / fated / nulled

I wish I was somebody, but I’m not; Not that I’m nobody, but I’m not enough to matter to her; ‘It wouldn’t change anything’, she would say, But it would: I know it – And why, why do I miss the bitch who disowned me so much… I guess you would have to have been…

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Postscript Re: Sarah

I don’t mind saved drafts, they are vital to the writer’s journey to psychic wholeness; for the alchemy of maturity must be performed alone, in private; however, lately, I have been saving too many drafts in what I can only perceive as an attempt to avoid writing about what I have been meaning to write…

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Had a Dream About Her

The dream: I was waiting for her to return home from a night out – and so was in the bedroom, where I fell asleep to awake the next morning, alone, where I called her to ask why she never returned… but she told me she never went out… that she never left our home.…

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Musing on Life Through Jack London’s ‘The Star Rover’: “The one man” and “The one woman”

I’m a fan of Jack London. He is, like Steinbeck, one of those California writers who hold a special place in my heart. I see myself like them, and their philosophies speak to me. And while Jack London is best known for adventure stories like Call of The Wild, The White Fang, and Sea Wolf,…

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My Teddy, Myself

I don’t have many childhood memories but I remember the book, and the bear. The book was small, with rounded cardboard pages. I must have read it a million times, though the ending made me so sad. And today I can think of nothing else. I tried searching on google for it, as I have…

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… And Things Do Happen

…I never saw myself the way other people saw me… No matter how little I had, I always felt I was worthy… Until they didn’t – and left, And I felt worthless, alone A cycle of getting recycled, Repeated, 3-Peated … Did it to myself, Wanted to be loved for my worst qualities… … and…

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Okay, Okay

family loves me, friends love me, everything is okay have a house, bills are paid, everything is okay work and food on plate, everything is okay have a mission, a vision, a purpose, everything is okay am young l.cohen, young p.roth, young j.steinbeck – have exes, books in progress, everything is okay, got poetry, renter’s…

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A Dream, A Map

It was Freud, Jung’s mentor, who called dreams ‘The royal road to the unconscious.” Jung himself believed that dreams were how we came to discover the unconscious myths guiding our lives. I recently had such a dream, so clear, so well constructed, that it was a revelation. Perhaps it came because, having quit Cannabis, my…

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No-Nut Level: God Mode Activated

This has been a fruitful season of my life. Full of growth: I’ve learned to be truly alone and emotionally independent. I’ve overcome fear, worry, self-doubt I’ve come to agree full-stop with John Mayer, that “Drinking is a fucking con.” I’ve finally quit my on-again, off-again relationship with organic American Spirits (‘But they’re organic!’). I’ve…

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