Coffee, Poems, Ramblings

DSC02910

Alex went to bed. I am wired, see the photo above for an explanation. Alex wants me to cease drinking diet sodas, which I am catastrophically addicted to, and he believes coffee is the answer. The truth about coffee is it usually makes my acid reflux worse, (which I have ceased treatment for due to the lack of a colonoscopy). I did not have that problem this time. I take my coffee, much like a soda (with Splenda, and brew specific – a generous amount of vanilla extract), which might make it even worse than those drinks I am assured are killing me. I do not do compliance exceptionally well. There would seem to be some stubbornness on board.

Being stubborn very likely is the only reason I am alive. I could not fight my monsters without I were tenacious. The last few days have been abysmal at times, and by turns incredible. I am pleasantly surprised my recent coffee consumption is going well. I LOVE COFFEE, I just rarely drank any for the past couple of years. Coffee has superior caffeine, and caffeine makes some of the side effects of my powerful medicines a bit more manageable. I am fully compliant with my psychiatric medications, but I do not have to like them.

I am on The Dell. Whatever it was doing earlier failed, and it is in the process of trying again. I like computers, possibly better than other devices, probably because I have used them much longer. I love this one, but I also hate it. Ambivalence seems to be a widespread trait in my existence. There is very little I only have one end of the feeling scale over. Catch me at the right time; I love everything. The wrong one and I would be hard-pressed to tell you a positive thing among everything in my life.

Will You

Will you hold me close
When I turn myself around,
Inside-out, upside-down,
Lose who I am – hokey-pokey like;
Without rhyme and lacking reason?
You should know this happens
In and out of season, without control.
My emotions are like an ocean
With waves that ebb and flow
Washing warm and cold, beware
Also, the undertow that drowns me
From time and again, in feelings
For which I have no use, refuse.
Will you find the patience
To weather moods, disturbances
In my equanimity? I hardly do
And it all belongs to me.
There are days I need to escape
The prison of what I am, but
My jailor is unwilling to grant any
Leave, breaking out an impossibility.
Writing though, and reading,
Grant me some serenity, words
Are love and I can find, perhaps,
Another searching soul with
Whom I have an affinity.
Come now, come near, and let us
Discover whatever is and will be,
It should all be okay, we shall see,
I will not give up the fight
As long as hope survives that you
Might deign to place your heart
Near the fullness of mine.

Composed here, live, out of nowhere. I admit I have been wrestling with inferiority. I have doubts about my worth and my sustainability. Those are near-constant, but I believe there is some talent in me. Fifty-three years of writing had to have some purpose.

Alex keeps telling me I should get rid of my books. It is killing me. I do not know how to explain what they mean, even the many I have not read. I read library books almost exclusively for years, but the books I own are a comfort to me. I have sent all the borrowed books back. Delving into these of mine has been a revelation, I fear I should have done it sooner. If he has his way, what a loss I shall suffer. I think this persistent demand of his is one reason depression has been unfailingly dogging me.

Let your whole being
Become Love’s celebration,
Your fascination.

As a prompt: Follow your emotion somewhere and create something that elucidates where yourself is at the moment. All my prompts are meant for creation with no particular medium restriction. Most creatives, which means all of us, are multidisciplinary.

I am grateful that this morning when Facebook malfunctioned and I had a full-blown panic attack, that I got myself under control with Alex’s assistance, and I recovered my account. Yeah, life is bizarre. When devices do not work, I go a bit unhinged.

Blessings to all of you, and may all your electronics function as advertised. Be well. Choose joy. Keep moving, it is harder to hit someone in motion. Carry on…

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

Poem: Hunted/Hunter

Well, here now, bet you did not expect me back. I took a nap. It is the best way to reset my destructive urges when I am being pursued by suicidal thoughts. Trust me, depression is no ally. However, in my crenelated state, mania also sets about to usher me away, over-taking walls that can never fence me in. Always a battle, forever a war, victory nevermore. Anyway…

Hunted/Hunter

There is a dichotomy
Built into our lives,
A perceived separation
More akin to a lie.
We are every one
A hunted, running
For survival and to
Be claimed a trophy
To ornament some
People’s idea of who
We should become.
Also, each a hunter,
Aching for forever love
Chasing illusions, dreams,
Whatever seems a goal,
Thinking accomplishment,
Wealth, reputation, will
Finally, make us whole.
Reality is our hearts
Are vessels circulating love,
What we wish to attain
Lies within us to share,
Give away, making love
All of the world
And throughout
Every moment of history.
The hunted/hunter is
A celebration of creation
Begun with a word,
To continue for eternity
The Beloved we serve,
The Beloved we are.

Yeah, that just came like a hurricane out of nowhere, the only thing I had was the words, Hunted/Hunter. Oh, dears, that is the first draft. I usually only write first drafts of poems. 

As a prompt: Create something about a dichotomy you feel presents itself in life.

I am safe, by the way. I just get agitated. The damnable disease is a horrible thing, but it has its gifts too. I am not sure I would be so wildly creative did I not face the struggle.

DSC02867

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan