The Tragedy of the Leaves

The Kind of Lost A Map Can’t Fix

2012-01-07T12:56:00.000-08:00

I.
My memory of you plays like an old film
I know it word for word, and scene for scene:

YOU fall sleep on my shoulder, and
I whisper something
into your tousled brown hair
in hopes of instilling these 3 little words
and this feeling
into your subconscious being

I and LOVE and YOU.

rewind, replay, over and over and over..

II.
I yearn
         to be
           that close
                to anyone again.

III.
There are days like today
when I remember that
YOU are still breathing,
and someone knows YOU better
and holds YOU closer
than I ever did
or could ever again…
                  and I begin to understand
      why good men go mad,
           write poetry,
                 smoke cigarettes
         and drink too much.

What a Fucking Gaping Hole

2012-01-05T22:30:00.000-08:00

My God, what a fucking gaping hole
sits inside of me today.
It eats at my sanity and
I'd like nothing more than
to fill it with vodka,
and Bob Dylan's The Freewheelin' on vinyl.

When you're this alone no one calls
and if they do it's just the bill collectors
and they only want what you can't give,
much like everybody else.

I Spend Most NightsTrying Pt. II.

2011-12-27T16:38:00.000-08:00

Your fingers danced on my knees so gracefully.

they knew their stage well,

the had danced there many times before

but never so freely,

this was the first time we had ever been alone.

II.

There was a band aid on your finger and

you told me about some sander wheel,

or something or the other.

I showed you my scars from a previous job

but we only discussed the scars

that were visible to the eye.

I’m still convinced

you wouldn’t understand

the ones that lay beneath.

III.

The bar lights had a blueish tint;

while we waited for our drinks

I watched them

gently grace your brow,

you smiled.

You have such a genuine smile,

it always seems to whisper, “come closer,”

even without a spoken word,

IV.

You pulled my hands into yours

and asked why they were always cold.

I thought it was because

most of my time, I spend alone.

Just the thought of being alone made me

kiss you, and wish to own you

for just one liquor filled, cold handed, blue tinted moment.

As much as try to fight the idea of you,

and I fight it with both fist up,

as if to prevent you from hurting me

before you even try.

I’m starting to notice your absence

and even have come to detest it at times.

I Spend Most Nights Trying

2011-11-27T13:17:00.001-08:00

I.
I spent the night trying
to stare god in the face
with a bottle of vodka and
a pack of cigarettes.
Michael laughed because
he says I keep looking for things
that can't be found.
I'm constantly setting myself up
for disappointment.

II.
The sky wore a starry face
and inviting as it may be
it was a reminder that the sun
will consume our planet one day
and my son will be the only one that will
think of me for short periods of time,
at random moments, throughout some days.

...I guess that nothing else really matters.

III.
I have too many questions, Mother;
none which I really want answers for.
the truth is heavy and
I'm lifting my limit.
So will you just tell me it will be okay.

IV.
A drunken embrace has
left me with blues.
He said "I've never kissed a stranger."
and I asked him if he'd like to try.
Lips holding each other like hands;
It felt like EVERYTHING
to not be so alone for one moment.

V.
In your car,
a song playing on the radio,
every note caressed my memory
like a finger ran softly down my naked spine
and I felt for the first time in a long time
not afraid of everything.

Broken Heart & Birthday Cake

2011-11-23T13:23:00.001-08:00

I feel like an old poet;

soul and face in a ship wreck like state.
Into the ocean my beauty
over the rocks my wish to create
and no longer relevant
are the things my heart yearns to convey.

The kids, they used to love me,
man I used to be so cool!
As the crow's feet leave their mark
this broken heart just
makes me look like a god damned fool.

No one to turn to,
no one read these wounded rhymes,
too much responsibility to just give up;
I'm left wanting to
but not actually drinking wine.

Like an old poet, these shaky hands
just want to love
to touch someone and to be touched.
Like an old poet I wish to never need to write a-gain
because the only feeling I know to express
is the deepest pain.

My birthday is in five days
and for the first time ever
it's not that I want to be alone,
it's just that I am.

To Love a Stone

2011-11-16T22:20:00.001-08:00

I.
That stone is mine,
please do not touch it
I've been giving it love for so long.
I would hate for anyone else
to finally get its reaction

II.
I put my life on hold
just to be its home:
my arms the walls
my knees genuflecting its thrown

...and the ceiling,
my crooked and aching neck bone.

III.
That stone is mine,
let me wipe off it's dirt
So it could open its eyes
and see how much this hurts.
That stone is mine,
let belong to me,
I wanted to show it that
not everybody will leave.

IV.
And now, I dare not ask it
why it can not love me
because knowing
that it actually doesn't
would mean
I would have to set it free.

V.
That stone is mine,
I'll carry it by myself
because it can't be heavier
than what it weighs to be alone.

i. naked

2011-11-07T21:10:00.001-08:00

ii

resting on the ground;

i left the best parts of me

in your tousled room.

like the trash, disregarded,
they sadly collect your dust.

iii.
if they call your name

slide them under the couches,

quiet them for now.

amongst your things they will hide;
erased from your heart and mind.

I Miss You at Night

2011-11-07T21:09:00.000-08:00

I

miss you

at night;

when I tuck my feet in

they

look for

yours still.

It's getting close to Christmas

and I'm scared to be alone.

Your Favorite Lullaby (Sea of Love)

2011-04-19T14:25:00.000-07:00

Your heart,

it is light and pure and honest...

and mine,

mine is heavy

but unknowingly and oh so sweetly

you help carry the weight

And on Sunday mornings

when you awake in my bed and you smile, yawn, blink,

stretch or even just breath,

I think,

NO, wait,

I know,

I was born just to see the blue of your eyes.

Your tiny hands are a compass

not because they point

or because they fit perfectly in mine

but because I will always follow them.

Let me please always be a warm bed,

a piece of peace,

a comfort.

Soft, safe and quiet and still.

Soft like my mother was;

with her hands caressing my skin

she could heal any and all wounds.

In whispers let me sing,

"I want to tell you how much I love you,"

as your lids slowly and softly cover your eyes

Charm City

2009-04-28T17:22:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to phone you;
for a few months now actually.
I just want to tell you that I miss you
and that sometimes the whole sky reminds me of you.

You're always traveling to new places,
your inability to sit still for more than four seconds
is both your gift and your curse.
I never know where you might decide to rest your head.
(if you even feel inclined to sleep at all)
I envy that about you.

We once very drunkenly shared
a kiss in the summer rain,
in the middle of a street, in Brooklyn.
(It's one of my most favorite memories)
We laughed so hard and hailed a cab
and you told me that you one day hoped
to love a woman as much as you love New York.
You have such a way of putting your poetic thoughts
into beautiful prose.

Last I heard you were in Amsterdam.
I can see you now...
Smoking Marijuana, telling clever jokes
that no one will understand,
preaching about the constellations or maybe
your favorite albums;
which of course should be listened to
through the crackles of dusty vinyl
and eating ONLY the best of food in tiny cafes.

I hope you are well my friend, my thoughts are with you
along with a hope that another strong wind will blow me your way again soon.

Elephant Mountain

2009-03-16T23:15:00.000-07:00

We stood at the foot of Elephant Mountain
looking at scattered pieces of metal
illuminated by the blinding sun
they stood out in the green grassy hill
reminding us with every glimmer how much it really hurt

A government official tried to convince you
that that was all that was left of the people you love.
He was a liar, we both know that.

You took a seat on the ground on a bed of rocks and dirt,
It just seemed so appropriate so I joined you;
In times like these there is no where to go but down

I begged the god I often ignore
for direction for the first time in years as I
searched my memory for every or any wise words I've ever
heard my mother or father speak.
Nothing, absolutely nothing came to mind that would matter.
I guess that nothing really matters when faced with death.

so there I sat on the ground
trying my best to hold you
as you tried your best to hold yourself together

I am so sorry, I am so sorry, I am so sorry

No one deserves this but especially not them or you.

Ides of March

2009-03-01T11:12:00.000-08:00

I pass the places we were
one year ago today
not purposely,
it's just that my Gods seem
to have an ill sense of humor.

Walking slowly, numbly, dreamlessly around
a blinking city
that refuses to belong to me
ever again.

With every step kicking up clouds of dirt
in form of awkward memories
from not too long ago
that feel like a hazy far away dream.
it is easier to pretend they were merely that.
Reality is much harder to accept.

Bright Cakes with soft candle light
that graced your brow.
And I find myself hoping and wishing
I didn't know that you were doing so well,

if so...I'd be able to lie to myself
and imagine that you think of me
a little sometimes.

I hope you found what you wanted,
what you relentlessly worked so hard for.

Happy Birthday.

my life on hold and a train to nowhere

2009-02-21T10:40:00.000-08:00

I watched the backs of houses with
large swimming pools, kids in playgrounds
and cars speed by my window.

The man to my right had a little boy with him,
the little boy was clearly upset.
In an effort to console him
the man would desperately ask him
"look at the mountains they're covered in snow,
remember when we went to see the snow?"
the child would not react
and much like the child,
I was sick of listening to it as well.

Every time the train would halt to a stop
it made a loud screech that sounded
much like a whale mating call.
I visited the aquarium last year,
they had a box that would play the whale's sounds
when you pressed it's button.
It was my favorite
well that and the jelly fish of course;
they're quite nice to look at.

I was going somewhere,
I didn't know where
but it didn't matter
the important thing was that I was going.

On days like these it's hard to do nothing,
when the insides are screaming
"move!" or "go!" or anything along those lines.

As the train pulled into
Union Station
the tall buildings seemed to welcome me home
but I just felt resentment
as if they had insulted me, hurt me, broken me once.

A small older Asian man
asked me if I could spare some change
for the red line
I reached into my pocket
and gave him what I had.
we both walked in that direction.

He thanked me then asked,
"do you know this area well?"

"I used to" I quietly replied.

He smiled and said
"must be good to be back"

I nodded blankly.

All I could think or feel
was that this city felt exactly
like losing you all over again.

Oh well.

I got on the subway and
made my way towards downtown
for some Japanese food.

The Proverbial Rock and the Hard Place

2009-01-23T22:36:00.000-08:00

I got in a bad car accident today.

In slow motion and oh so silently
the metal crushed
like a tin can between my foot and the ground.

The crash, the bang, the smoke, the smell,
it all just felt like a physical manifestation of
all the thoughts that have been colliding
in my head over and over again as of late.

a sharp blow to the chest and
a hard bump to the head
I have no clue what else really happened

"just be thankful you were not hurt too badly."
they all have said when they see the damage

I can't explain it but I feel like I was.

In Winter Time

2008-12-21T22:09:00.000-08:00

I once softly sang Kingsport Town
while we had a cigarette on your rooftop.

It was bitter cold.
We couldn't tell the difference between
our words and the smoke.

You were never a Dylan fan but
you smiled and said "I kinda like it."
I smiled too and said "I kinda like you."

You attentively watched the smoke
linger between us for a second.
You took my hands and wrapped them in yours,
you blew in them to keep them warm.

I think you knew you loved me then,
I loved you then too.

I continued singing,
"...Don't you remember me babe,
I remember you quite well..."

When I think of us,
I like to think of us as were that night,
so quiet with nothing to prove.

----------------
Now playing: Cat Power - Kingsport Town

On letting you down with my negative thoughts...again.

2008-12-08T20:06:00.000-08:00

While browsing through one of your fancy medical magazines
I read an article that stated that
most of us will die due to a heart related issue.

You tried to grab the magazine out of my hand
before I turned this into discussion on existentialism.
(too late)

"Ha!" I couldn't help but laugh...

"The mind is the real killer,
we all know that!" I exclaimed.

"The rejections, the let downs,
the mistakes, the loses, our own self esteem,
our unaccomplished dreams,
replaying over and over and over and over in our heads;
eating away at our sanity.
Now that's what gets us."

You sighed dramatically as I continued to ramble on...

"In fact you're lucky if your heart dies out before your mind does;
But If you're like most you'll live life like a zombie
with a heart that beats like a champion."

At this point your eyes had already glossed over, you were probably thinking about ice cream or the weather but I carried on...

"We think therefor we are.
In our miserable little thoughts we will find both our lives and our deaths."

You stood up and headed for the kitchen to serve yourself a giant bowl of ice cream.
I knew you were thinking about ice cream the whole time.

On a day like yesterday

2008-11-11T14:43:00.000-08:00

We sat cross legged like children for hours
underneath giant trees and vast gray skies.

As if they were our elders telling us stories
we stared so attentively at their swaying branches.

I whispered to you "the storm is coming,
I can smell it in the air."
You took off your jacket and so softly placed it on my back
as if not to break my fragile bones.
you said "Chivalry is not dead!"
and smiled the saddest smile I had ever seen.
You looked so empty but there was slight optimism that I dared not rob you of.
So I just smiled back.

You were looking for something, I know,
maybe a sign but baby, you weren't going to find it there
but I'd wait it out with you.

I laid back and observed the the slightest bit of sunlight
peeking through all the branches

I thought at that moment that you were a lot like those trees;
So beautiful and full of secrets

You Would Never Understand (if I was anything like you)

2008-11-08T16:42:00.000-08:00

My dear I fear the ocean will swallow my ship whole

...It's only a matter of time now.

I was once it's great captain
but now I am merely it's captive,
begging to no one to be set free.

I wish I was like you,
I would declare war on the merciless hands of the ocean
and lord knows I would win.

...if I was anything like you. I am not.

Although I know the water will burn
through my letters like fire,
instead of fighting,
I cowardly continue to compose the most beautiful words
that you will never see.

You're the only one that knows
that I am nothing like anyone here

And I know now that loss is the only kind of pain.

we just kind of get by

2008-10-31T14:17:00.000-07:00

You forgetting me, me forgetting you
such a quiet disease

it gets worse with time

soon you nor I will feel
the feeling of loss when you think about
kissing, touching or making love

If we're lucky we will live on in each other
in a form of nostalgia
Like the feeling you get when you remember
something that used to seem so simple or innocent in your childhood

but at worst we wont remember or pretend not to remember at all

We'll go on with our beautiful lives
Charming this world, one boy, one girl at a time.

God, it is so hard to believe we were once so perfect.
Life is hard and we just kind of get by
I guess it takes it's toll on us.

these will be the last lines I write of you.

locking stares with strangers

2008-10-06T21:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I purposely lock stares with strangers
for a little longer than it is comfortable to do so.

I'm not sure why I do it...
Maybe it's a fear of being unmemorable
or maybe just feeling that awkwardness is a reminder
that I am still alive,
that they're still alive,
that we are still alive together.

It's true,
there is a loneliness so vast that lingers over us
that it might as well be the sky
and as heavy as an anchor weighing us down like ships in the sea
but it's the knowing that we still need each other
that makes that loneliness beautiful.

Not one man is an island,
this loneliness makes us alike
and eventually brings us together.

Such Blinding Stars for Starving Eyes

2008-09-04T16:35:00.000-07:00

There is something so beautiful about the human spirit that can not be denied.

Our lives are full of giant disappointments and fears but we continue moving forward

solely for those rare and short lived moments of happiness.

I find that to be incredibly empowering and comforting.

I am so happy and life is good.

You are a page in my diary now :)

2008-08-20T20:55:00.000-07:00

On a Summer night in possibly the sketchiest park in town
With a tall can of cheap beer and two already empty bottles of surprisingly cheaper wine,
We laid in the grass and admired the spinning sky.

We couldn't see the stars but we settled for the moon

I looked over at you and
you knew I was looking but pretended to not notice
you tried your best to look handsome

You are always so handsome

You turned to me and asked, "do you ever write about me in that little black diary you always carry around?"
I laughed out loud and honestly responded "no, not yet."
With a playfully offended or frustrated tone you said "What's a boy gotta do to get into that little black book of yours?!"

it was probably my second or third most favorite night in the history of ever
so here it is, a page in my little black book for you Mr.

Mrs. Boon

2008-08-13T20:20:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Boon, she is 102, she will be 103 next February.
She told me that when she was young a prophet told her she would
live to be 144
"104!" My mother jokingly corrected her.
My mother had heard this story many times before, she was her caregiver.
Mrs. Boon said "same difference they're both way too long."
I liked her she was sassy.

She said "My dear, never marry."
That was funny because I had an argument with my mother that morning
about that very subject,
my mom wants me to marry a clean cut catholic boy and
I want to...well...be alone and travel the world and
kiss handsome men with thick accents.

Mrs Boon complained about all her diminishing abilities and senses,
"I can't see, I can't hear, I can't think, I can't stand for too long! I don't know why the lord doesn't take me" she cried.
All I could think was that I was only 21 and felt exactly the same way.

She looked at me before we left and very sincerely asked,
"will you visit me again, I know I could get better if I had a good spirit like yours around"
I smiled and softly graced her hand that was swollen from the ivy.

I knew I could never see her again she reminded me of my mortality.
And that reminder weighed heavy like a rock on my chest

It was the reminder that most of us will end up alone
breathing air from a tank and watching
re-runs we recorded in previous years of The Price is Right.

This isn't about you

2008-07-24T14:27:00.000-07:00

The moon rose above the street lights and the trees
I sat on my parent's roof top
something I would have never been allowed to do as a child
but I am an adult now.
Their rules and believes did not apply to me any longer.

I watched children playing in the street,
the girls rode their bikes conspicuously hoping the boys would notice,
the boys talked about a fight that almost happened at school that day.

There was a slight feeling of nostalgia or nausea,
I don't know, I can never tell the difference anymore.
I am so sick of thinking about my past
and who I once was
and where I once lived
and how things used to be.

I've spent way too long holding on to feelings
for people and places that really just don't matter.
I'm like a pack rat for emotions that aren't worth feeling any longer.

I know I often say things I don't mean
and sometimes make promices I can't keep
but believe me when I say,
"I'm done with it!"
so to mostly everything and everyone:

"See you later... if I see you at all. "

:)

This Isn't That kind of Ride

2008-07-06T00:11:00.000-07:00

Chalk stained clothes and hands like children,
you were never a stranger to me once.

Solar system, city lights,
lives that go as fast as subway cars.

This is not that kind of ride

Assasining down the avenue in Brooklyn,
Comedy in record shops.

Elliot Smith's XO is still the best

Make me dinner again,
I'll drink your Canadian wine.

Smoking on fire escapes...Ironic or appropriate?

You, Mr. made staying in one place a little more difficult than it was before.

Now I am hanging like a swinging pendulum between two cities.

My brain calls for familiarity,
My heart calls to feel more alive.

as I sky watch a sea of glaciers
from and airplane over you
all I know for sure is that I left a piece of me laying in Your bed,

Below melting record players and dirty skylines

The Dining Dead

2008-05-29T16:30:00.000-07:00

See everyone I know is hurt, a little crazy and tired
but we smile like drunken fools
ignoring the voice inside that's begging us to scream

days they go by so fast
and we do not do the things we feel inside we should
We live a life based on hate because of laziness or comfort
We work the jobs we hate, we talk to the people we hate,
we live in the small rooms we hate

we sit like trees in one spot
with our roots planted so deep
we know we could never move

We owe ourselves travel, music, art,
we owe ourselves a fist in the air, kicking and screaming revolution
because we will not go down as a the sleepy generation
It's plain and it's simple
we are vital and we owe ourselves not to be the walking dead

The trees in fast forward

2008-05-22T00:21:00.000-07:00

I watched the trees so carefully, so silently...

The wind playfully swayed each leaf,
back and forth, back and forth,
like you would a child on a swing.

The Earth vibrated to the same rhythm as the music that blared through the speakers.
The speakers, they spoke such eloquent and beautiful compositions
while my weary legs rested like the roofs to tiny houses on your dashboard.
And you said
"the clouds are moving so rapidly"

Believe it or not
We were moving just as fast
our minds, our hearts , the smoke, our hands

Self deconstruction at it's finest.
Why do we crave to come undone with such passion?

We will taste the islands and the sea (a letter to andy)

2008-05-16T20:02:00.000-07:00

Dearest Andy,

You spoke about rain today, I could almost smell it. It made me so homesick for a place I have never known before. As of lately I have felt almost guilty for staying in such a small town being that we live in such a large world, Kind of like the feeling you get when you throw away food and think about starving children (if that makes any sense at all.) I found some old pictures of my mother today she looked so young, happy and careless and they made me wonder how she feels about her life and how I will feel about mine when I get to her age. Will I look back with nostalgia or will it be a feeling of regret, as of right now I fear I'm somewhere in the middle of the two, I think the worst place to be because it's a safe spot, it's boring. At the risk of sounding cliche and existential I must ask, do you ever get the feeling you are supposed to do or be something bigger? Well I do. I believe that it's not just a feeling but more of an instinct and try to always follow my instincts regardless of the fact that 51 percent of the time they get me in trouble(fun trouble I like to call it.) You know when Bob Dylan left to New York to start his career he said "I woke up one morning and just left , I'd spent so much time thinking about it, I just couldn't think about it anymore." I think I'll be at that point soon. I'll let you get back to the regularly scheduled program, thank you for listening...err...reading my random ramblings.I'm off to have a drink downtown, I'll be sure to have one for you and one just for hope that a wind will blow me your way soon. Be well,

Your Friend Forever,

Jeanette

P.S. I read a Bukowski quote and it made me think of you and me; Sweet Music, it beats love, there aren't any wounds: in the morning.

I know I hurt you but you hurt me too

2008-04-06T22:34:00.000-07:00

After our argument last night
I ran out on you
but you let me, you never looked back
I went to the bar and had a drink with some good friends
they were talking but I,
I couldn't forget, I couldn't even stop looking at the damn door
sitting, hoping, you would come back
and maybe tell me we're okay
I went to sleep wondering if you still loved me

-------------------------------------------------------
here is a bukowski poem vey fitting with my mood:

Against the window Pane

you’re always demanding a
new me.

you’re sitting on the couch now,
complaining.

your voice scratches
against the window pane.

I think that no matter
what we’ve done to each
other (and neither of us
has been fair)

that it is your tone of voice
that is finally most unfair.

all of our betrayals
yours and mine
don’t deserve that tone of
voice.

or
that dark wailing
face

so sure that the next man
will not treat you
the way I did

or that you will not treat him
the way you did me.

your voice scratches against the
window pane

and
nothing in life ever changes
and I want to tell you so
now.

Old quotes and new friends

2008-03-09T18:32:00.000-07:00

Love is not a candle

burning down

life is,

and love and life are

not the same

or else

love having choice

nobody would ever die

-Charles Bukowski

I found the first Bukowski book I ever bought today and re discovered this quote. And yeah, I don't know i just really like it.

Oh and I need new friends, I have the gold ones but now I need the crazy silver ones. I'm going to go eat cookies. Goodnight

peace

Pretty Trees at Del Taco

2008-03-08T16:27:00.001-08:00

I was stoned yesterday and I noticed that the three trees right outside of Del Taco are absolutely gorgeous. What a shame, they could have been in a beautiful garden where many would stop to look...but no. They're Outside of Del Taco where only a stoned girl would stop to admire. That's life, the beauty is always drowned out by the static of industry.

Anywhosies Today is Micheline's birthday, what a sweetheart this girl is. I wish her the best day ever. Cheers baby!

Oh and check me out! I took a little trip to the Elliot smith wall yesterday!

Peace

How is Your Heart?

2008-03-06T21:29:00.000-08:00

The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors have taken over the Ship

There's nothing to mourn about death any more than there is to mourn about the growing of a flower. What is terrible is not death but the lives people live or don't live up until their death. They don't honor their own lives, they piss on their lives. They shit them away. Dumb fuckers. They concentrate too much on fucking, movies, money, family, fucking. Their minds are full of cotton. They swallow God without thinking, they swallow country without thinking. Soon they forget how to think, they let others think for them. Their brains are stuffed with cotton. They look ugly, they talk ugly, they walk ugly. Play them the great music of the centuries and they can't hear it. Most people's deaths are a sham. There's nothing left to die. We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.
-Charles Bukowki

This Bukowski piece describes exactly how I feel about things today so I'm going to keep this short and sweet.

Dream you fucking dreamers !

Don't ever forget to live kindly and passionately.

<3