Social, I Suppose

Decision Point

You like lemon drops
I prefer spicy red hots,
Can we still be friends?
Can our yellows, reds, mingle?
Do sour and hot speak, emote?
Would we need to shove
Our preferences, tastes, down
One another’s throat?
I think given space and time
We can share our love as friends.

Erotica Avec Moi

I want to lay you
Down on freshly laundered pure
White sheets, soft as mink,
Becoming entangled like
Stars in cosmic clouds gleaming
With passion’s light dew,
Sweet escaping sighs released
As we learn precious
Togetherness can delight
Lips and tongues discovered new.

Monday, November 4, 2019

Willful
Abuse
Radicalized

Every person is
Some parent’s treasured baby
Whose birth was an Event;
If blood is spilled, at what cost?
Tears drowning, an ocean flow.

Someone different despised
Loaded missiles in idle conversation
Tearing a visage apart,
No safety on which to depend;
Maybe driven reckless to an end.

Corporate priorities
Accelerating profit margins;
Hours near unending or brief, plenty of pain disregarded,
Limiting accommodations, promotion recommendations,
Eliminating benefits, cutting back, workers fail.

Pointless politicians
Preying on public insecurities
Inciting mobs, another election
A million to furnish the mansion,
People’s needs less meaningful than drapes.

A bevy of youngsters, college denied,
By fiscal lack or instability
Sent, the guns and bullets,
To lands that savor patriot blood
Above that of many others.

Pretty flags draped, we weep,
Coffins we must somehow bear
Some parent’s treasured baby,
Now gone forever, death’s deep sleep,
Departing others, the cycle repeat.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Tuesday, November 5, 2019

 

Respect

We are human beings and share a common genus and species. Our differences are so minor as to be almost scientifically moot. Boys, girls, men, women, or whatever gender nomenclature we claim, are only descriptive. No one of us is above another.

Today, I was informed, someone I love had been severely physically abused. Such is our world, but it should not be so. When one person attacks another, under any circumstances, it is a grievous wrong. We are gifted with one another to give and receive love. Each of us has problems, even as we have gifts, skills, talents, and we accord one another respect, understanding. Abusing each other discredits us and diminishes us. Everyone is so injured by those times when a lack of caring, kindness, love is shown.

Violence is reprehensible. To pay for who you are with your flesh and tears is a cost too high for being born. Anger is a fierce emotion, but it can be channeled into creation, exercise, work, anything not involving violence and destruction. We have no right to hurt one another. Emotional wounds are long-lasting and cruel, sometimes living within one much longer than bruises and fractured bones. Breathe, remember who you are, walk away, remember you have a purpose, reason, and belong to be a shining example.

I plead with you, be generous, gentle, kind, loving, respectful, understanding; leave off the destructiveness, inhumanity, meanness. This world needs us to be positive and life-affirming. Let your voice encourage, inspire, give affirmation.

I know many differences cause unrest for some. I want to remind you, differences are our beauty, variety is a gift from the Creator. If we were all the same, boredom would overcome us. Every person can add wonderous contributions to all there is.

Let us love and love and love, until all we know is love because love is who we are.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Monday, July 15, 2019

Pardon me for reacting so vehemently. Injustice causes me pain.

No Country of Cowards

Imagine, if you will, a malaise our forefathers believed would never exist within our nation’s borders. May I welcome you to the Twilight of America and its freedoms should we, the people, not enact and undertake far-reaching changes.

Rather than caring for and supporting our military veterans, we may stand mutely by while 22 of them die by suicide each day. Where essential services for those vets with needs may take months, sometimes years, and more often than our government wishes to admit, are never given at all.

Young men may face danger when stopped for minor traffic violations, or simply because they were in an unexpected place.

A badly beaten person may not be afforded justice because of their appearance, orientation, affiliation, sex, or because their attacker is of a sort more highly esteemed.

A pregnant woman and her children may come under threat of bodily harm at gunpoint when they have committed no crime.

A senior couple may be forced to adopt a grandchild, because both her parents are mentally ill and cannot obtain treatment or medication because they are indigent.

A mother with two degrees who works excessive exhaustive hours in healthcare may only make $10 an hour while her disabled son makes $13 an hour at a home improvement warehouse.

Children may die at school when some unauthorized shooter invades the campus — a shooter who may be an untreated mentally ill person.

Many buildings sit vacant for numerous years when they may be better used to provide shelter to the homeless.

Prescriptions may be so expensive; they deplete a family’s resources to such a degree they cannot afford other necessities.

Desperately needed medical procedures that sustain life may bankrupt those who believed their insurance and their savings would carry them through any crisis.

Many may deal with gnawing grumbling bellies because there is no sustenance to be procured. Some of these are children, starving children.

Politicians may not care about the people they are meant to serve but only focus on sowing divisive seeds that will cause unrest and destroy compassion.

Teachers may be poorly paid, overburdened in crowded classrooms, lack needed materials and supplies, and be continually expected to produce students who excel.

 

These are only a few examples: injustice and inequality are widespread. The corporations and governments over us have become callous, disregarding the rights and needs of citizens.

If we do not put aside our differences and join forces to bring change in our society, the demise of much of what we hold dear about America may occur sooner than we imagine. We have come to the edge of a precipice where our choices and actions may save us or send our beautiful 243-year experiment into the obscurity of those dreams which die.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Sunday, June 16, 2019

This is a bit dark, but if we do not speak, we cannot improve. Some of these examples are from people who opened up to me without any request, people talk to me.

Battling the Specter of Nevermore

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In recent books, I have read about hemlock, strychnine, and other poisons. I read a variety, this is not about genre, fiction or non-fiction, this to me speaks of destruction.

Our whole lives are immersed in depression, despair, lack of dignity, lack of respect, an absence of tolerance. It is no wonder suicide, and murder rates are soaring, mass killings are rampant.

We as a world, need an infusion of hope, a multiplicity of loving-kindness in every aspect of life. We cannot point at one another and claim others should be the solution. We must be, ourselves, the answer, every one of us. We must carry love within us, and to each person we encounter.

Forgiveness, grace, love, mercy must become our functional vocabulary, as well as our method of conduct.

We never know, by reaching out, by being a friend, we may be lifting ourselves or someone other from the precipice of death. The Lord is Love and He inhabits our acts of kindness and compassion. We are called and sent, let us reach out. May we be the solution for one another.

It is, and has been for some time, a fight against Nevermore.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Tuesday, March 19, 2019

The tempestuous soil

Stillness_edited.jpg

This Soil I Call Home

They wonder why tearing down monuments rankles. Apparently, they do not know the history of this earth where we are bound. I only know a little, but I know the land is holy.

Once, tribes of indigenous peoples, later called Indians roamed this country. They battled among themselves in societal tribes. They lived, loved, hunted, died, made lives. Then all they owned, all they loved was taken, and they were left, bodies, bleeding into the soil once their heritage.

These conquering Europeans also brought criminals who they restricted and mistreated, tortured, letting some starve, others became indentured servants, used, abused, unpaid. Some finally won free but were still cast down, called trash.

Then industry rose and needed cheap labor, or labor unpaid. So ships brought cargoes of ebony people taken captives from their lands, forced to do the back-breaking, soul stealing work, making greatness by the labor of their hands.

A cry for freedom rung clear, a peal that would not be silenced. The nation, tore asunder, brother against brother, blood was shed. The ground cried out, flooded with scarlet rivers and elsewhere torrential streams of tears.

Other fights, other massacres occurred. A price was always paid in blood, for blood has ever been the sacrifice for freedom. The fighters, their names too numerous to recall, on both sides of the stories gave everything for who we are.

Whether right or wrong they paid, and it is we who should remember. We should let the monuments stand that we never forget how great is the price of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Least in tearing down, we awaken the hungry monster who destruction, war, and death, is named, and allow it to break loose drinking lifeblood again.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Saturday, January 19, 2019

I am always surprised by inspiration. It usually has no reason nor rhyme. It overtakes me in its own way and time.

For a prompt: Write or otherwise create about an issue that moves you, heart and soul. Be blunt, be real, let it show what you feel. When you access your creativity, you should be your most honest self. Share if you like. If not, allow the revelation to be yours alone.

I hope this suits you. If not, still come again. Have a blessed night.

 

Bullets Obey the Lord

Morgan woke up about 9am that Saturday morning. She had meeting Peyton on her mind. As she put on her well-worn jeans, her Mom had patched with red velvet to cover the holes, and around the cuffs, she thought how happy she was to have a boyfriend. He would not admit they were a couple to anyone else and she was not allowed to tell anyone. Having a guy who liked her was exciting, though the secrecy alarmed her at times.

She was thirteen, and he was a little older, he had talked her into intimacy months ago, maybe a little more forcefully than she hoped. There were misgivings, her upbringing did not hold with such, she was a Christian and knew she was very wrong. Considering what went on at home, well, it could not be as crazy as all that.

The sky was the cloudless cerulean of early Spring, and she walked down the street to the cul-de-sac. She kept checking that no one was paying attention to her. Walking past her brother’s house was a bit nerve-wracking. People might be sleeping late, she hoped so anyway.

Peyton’s parents and siblings were out of town. He and Morgan decided a few days earlier, it would be a perfect time for them to meet. She knocked once, and he ushered her through the door he opened.

“Let’s go to my parents’ room. They have a waterbed, and it will be nice,” he said.

She followed him, noting he had not kissed her as was usual. The room was large, and the bed was king size. She had never been on a waterbed before. It was unnerving being in his parents’ bedroom. It did not seem right and added to the feeling of unease. Never were their illicit meetings comfortable, her conscience screamed at her each time, but this was almost undoable.

He was rougher than usual and seemed in a great hurry. There were no tender kisses or caresses, only an act that could almost be called rape, but Morgan had taken off her own clothes. You could not accuse someone of something when you walked yourself into the situation willingly.

“Get your clothes on, now,” he said, immediately upon conclusion of the act.

She began putting on her clothes. Peyton crossed the room to the dresser, and she heard a drawer slide open. He turned around presenting a .38 Special in his hand, spun the cylinder, showing her all the chambers were empty. Then he put a bullet in the revolver. Morgan was still dressing, and now her fingers began to lose the ability to work correctly.

He said, “We’re going to play Russian Roulette, and you are the target.”

“You love me, this is a joke, right?” She said, still wrestling with the buttons on the shirt.

He came over, spun the cylinder, put the gun against her temple, and pulled the trigger in quick succession three or maybe, four times.

Morgan ran out of the room without being fully dressed.

Peyton yelled, “I never want to see you again, or I will kill you.”

The neighborhood was small, so it was impossible that they never see one another, but Morgan never went near him again. She could tell no one what happened because then she would have to admit the affair, so one more secret was added to a multitude of others.

She thought it over and over again. The only explanation for her survival after the chamber was spun and Peyton pulled the trigger was, wrong as she was to be there, Jesus saved her. It did not wholly curb the wildness, but it slowed her down, likely keeping her from more trouble than she may have entertained.

One day, years later, Peyton brought his heavily pregnant wife to meet her. She was never sure of the purpose of this introduction but supposed him to be gloating. A time later she learned he ruthlessly abused his wife. Eventually, he killed a woman and was executed for causing the death.

The Lord delivered Morgan from years of pain by letting her leave that killing field. Perhaps she did not learn all the lessons she might have from those events, but she came away convinced that life had a purpose and that living was a treasure. Humans might be disobedient and make unwise choices, but God was and is always in control.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Sunday, Not According to Plan

2016-11-11 Purple flowers pieces

Sunday morning, I was going to church. I showered, dressed, loaded the Explorer, got in, turned the key and nothing happened. Therefore, I stayed home. This was not my plan. We make plans, life intervenes, it has ever been so. I did a little writing in journals, so I shall share it with you.

2018.03.11 However, Whenever, Whatever Journal Page 1

Make sure you share yourself generously with those you love and assure them of your affection and love. Life is a mystery, it comes sudden, and it departs without permission. The most important gift we are given is the honor of sharing our dear ones’ life. No promises we make, nothing we plan, no conditions or happiness are guaranteed. Live, live abundantly, unselfishly, trusting, caring, sharing, and loving with all you are, because this second is all you can be confident you own.

2018.03.11 However, Whenever, Whatever Journal Page 20002

You may be able to break faith with your creative impulse, that is not a luxury I am privy to. Only God has more of a claim to me than does creativity, especially writing.  Because it makes demands know in my daily relationship with my mind, and the Spirit is more gentle, the compulsion to make the words known is often very strong. If you can tame your intellect, bravo to you. Mine has me in a vise grip.

2018.03.11 Gratitude Journal0003

The Samsung cell phone and I are often at war. I am always trying to maximize it for my use. What is most disconcerting is when it disappears my apps or adds some I was not asked did I want. We are at a ceasefire at present. I made major changes.

Lots of people complain about rain, but I love rain. It means there will be water in the reservoirs, to nurture flowers, trees, and crops, and it washes the air so I may breathe easier. Yes, it is messy, and sometimes no fun, but the benefits outweigh the inconveniences.

I think you might use appreciation for others as your prompt and explore what is lost when someone passes from this plane.

A heart fully shared
Is an original gift
Only you can give.

I hope your week is progressing well and to your satisfaction. Even troublesome days have rainbow moments. Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative. I would love to know your thoughts on this posting. Should you wish to follow the website, there is a button, if not, please come back whenever possible.

As each day passes
Remember you must forgive
To completely live.

No one will remember your Facebook statuses or tweets on Twitter, but if you spend time face to face, you will insert yourself indelibly in their memory.

No broken person
Avoided, forgotten, goes
Without compassion,
Because the shattered can see
Holes in the fabric of time.

Look to God for your joy, and you will be less disappointed than if you depend on your things. May the Lord go with you every day and every way. Blessings to you now and always.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan