joannebest











{August 29, 2015}   Super Moon

moonsuper2
we see the same moon
from different points of view
literally and figuratively,
unintentional entanglement,
twisted links in an invisible chain
and chinks in our armor,
leftover from a thousand year war

walls built then broken
crumble slowly, pebbles not stones,
just little bits and pieces
raining down from all directions,
cool, soothing away the scars from the torturous licks of flame,
a side-effect from being human,
no longer noticed from the familiarity

we can be superheroes though,
under cover of the night
if we follow the pull of the super-moon,
just check our fears at the door and don our capes,
invisibility a shared superpower
we break on through the barriers
and save our worlds once again
moonsuper1



{August 28, 2015}   For Now

sexdream

from a distance i feel,
your energy
slipping deep deep inside
and i sizzle, ‘
low growl and i hear,
your voice
revving in the back of my mind,
it slides to the front until
nothing
else
exists
but sensory perception and heat memorable and
the distance is gone,
behindthis
i feel that silent promise,
because,
nothing said allows no finger-pointing you know,
it’s taken for granted, justifiably so i’d say,
and all the better for the endgame, don’t you think?
everything bounces out of synch mostly,
except when it doesn’t,
then a tiny bubble of perfection,
timeless, endless, enough,
i float, painfree and drawn to your
spark, electric tickles my spine
lower, lower still,
giggles and moans
and the meltdown is complete
for now

hands



wills8
I’m trying.

I really am, but there seems to be a conspiracy surrounding me and everything I attempt to do.

Example: I’ve been working on a piece of writing, you know how it goes, you write, you save to draft, you edit, you delete and rewrite because suddenly every perfect word, every luscious phrase you previously wished you could come up with finally hits you all at once and you write like a fiend, fingers flying, things you didn’t even realize you were capable of reveal themselves on the page fast and furious and you’re happy, pleased with yourself, words spitting out so quickly you don’t take that tiny second to hit “save draft” because after all, you’re nearly done and won’t need to hit anything but “publish”.

And then the dog scratches on the door to come in so you turn away for a split second to open the door and bam! William the Siamese cat decides he wants to jump on your desk, sit on your computer and inadvertently/intentionally deletes every word you just wrote, goes on Facebook and pulls up things on your computer you didn’t even know existed.

Yes, I know there is the automatic save to draft but that does no good when you’ve just changed every word you wrote in the previous draft. Every. Single. Word.

Of course it doesn’t help that your mind blanks out and you can’t remember what you just wrote a few moments ago.

You try, or rather, I try desperately to rewrite using my last saved draft but it’s gone, like that first little puff of smoke when you relight a candle, your thoughts dissipate into the ether, never to return.

It’s discouraging to say the least, but I’ve been so out of touch with the world recently that to just give up is unacceptable.
I want it back, a poem living in my head for days, finally formed to my satisfaction, but it’s gone.

So what do I do?
I need to get back into the habit of writing every day, I can’t let another day go by without writing something post-worthy and I can’t pull those thoughts back into my brain, I can’t reach them anymore, they’ve moved onto another plane of existence, as everything that has meant the most to me in my life has done.
And I don’t mean only those who have left this life, but also my lifelines, the one(s) who have let me cry when I needed to and lifted me up when I was nearly underground.
I understand life goes on and things change in the blink of an eye, with or without our permission or knowledge until it’s too late.
I understand we all have our own baggage to carry around, hidden or out in the open.
I understand that empathy, which may be considered a good thing, can sometimes bring me to my knees as I’m overwhelmed on occasion with understanding, overwhelmed with thoughts of the burdens others live each day, overwhelmed with the fact that I care and worry more about others than I do myself.
Overwhelmed with being overwhelmed.

So I shall compromise.
Let it go because perhaps, for some unknown reason, it wasn’t meant to be.

Hence, a blog post.
Sure, it’s certainly nothing award winning, but it sure as hell feels good to write something again.
I’ve been lost you see, all summer long I’ve been without direction, without inspiration, my head full of nothing but how to take care of my Dad and his dwindling finances, as well as his fading health.
If I don’t write something down it flees my mind, and even when I do make my numerous lists, like Sisyphus, just when I seem to get to the top of the hill, everything I’ve done rolls right back down, taking me with it.
Yet still, I continue to try.

Soon a day will come when I reach the top of the hill and I will be able to look down and say something I haven’t said in far too long: Life Is Good.
Because contrary to the odds, I still believe that Life Is Good, and I have every intention of proving that to myself.
One way or another.

sisaphus1



taliaschild-highresA Quick Note From Me : I’ve been gone for far too long, I will be blogging about it later today, but in the meantime, for your enjoyment and reading pleasure, please head over to Amazon (or the book seller of your choice) and buy Taliaschild, the sequel to Taliasman. Anastasia Vitsky outdoes herself every time she puts words on a page, I am constantly humbled. Aaaaaaaand…..here we go:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another perfect gem from Ms. Vitsky, I devoured Taliaschild in one sitting.
I’m finding that to be the norm when it comes to anything written by this author. Taliaschild is a sequel to Taliasman as we follow the journey of a magical Talisman originally handed down from Nicodemus to Vina, who places it around Talia’s neck. You’ll have to read Taliasman to find out what happens because I don’t want to give anything away.
Taliaschild begins six years later, when we meet Kira, daughter to Queen Vina and Talia.
Kira has been raised with anything and everything a girl could want, yet she grows restless and bored with her perfect life and sneaks away, longing for a bit of freedom. She finds more than she could have imagined when she meets Sonna, a poor street urchin, who spends most of her time scavenging for scraps of food for her family. If she’s lucky enough to find something to eat, Sonna is able to avoid yet another beating from her Mother.
Drawn to a mud-covered Sonna, Kira spends a day with her, seeing another side to the world, where fighting for a fish-head can mean the difference between nourishment and starvation, between praise and a beating.
Kira places her handed down Talisman around Sonna’s neck only to find it stuck there. Unable to remove it, Kira leaves the Talisman with Sonna and returns home to continue her training for the day she becomes Queen.
Based on The Snow Queen, we revisit some familiar characters from Taliasman, and learn more about Merda, a character who cries out loudly for her own story.
This reader is hoping we get another book, as these characters have dug themselves a place in my heart, and in all honesty, the only thing I can complain about is the fact that the book ended.
I love everything about Anastasia Vitsky’s writing, I can truly say she is my favorite author, as long as Ms. Vitsky’s name is on a book, I immediately buy it, knowing I’m in for another wonderful read.

talia



{August 7, 2015}   Where I’ve Been (And Why)

morning2Write what you can write when you can write else you may never be able to write again.

Substitute any word that may apply to you and your passion and never ever neglect it, because you never know when your passion, or your ability to pursue your passion, may be taken away from you.

My recent passionless existence began with a near-crippling case of carpal tunnel rearing it’s ugly head a few months ago. I’ve already gone the surgery route but all I got for my trouble was two wrists more painful than before surgery and two hands constantly reminding me that I have to choose where when and how I use my small windows of pain-free time.

So I stopped writing.
And began a downward spiral.

Fibromyalgia, once closed off in a box somewhere in my mind escaped much like Pandora’s Box, only this time, hope fled as well and I experienced the most excruciating fibro-flare I’ve ever had.

I shut myself down, nearly every part of me, shut down. Caring about anything became a distant memory. I couldn’t even fake it anymore. Nothing made me smile. Nobody made me laugh. I stopped believing in anything good ever happening to me again. Ever. Sleep became the only thing I looked forward to and the sound of the phone ringing made me cringe. My computer may as well have been nothing more than a dust collector because I had no interest. In anything.

I may as well have stopped living because whatever it was I was doing, going through the motions, was not in any way shape or form a life.

Grief.
I thought I would have been over it already. I mean, it’s been over two years since my Mom died, why does it still feel like it happened yesterday?

My whole world has changed without her and I have a new understanding of the effects of grief. My family has imploded. I used to have two brothers but now I have one, my older brother has basically cut me out of his life, guilt-calls my Father maybe once a month while I twist myself pretzel-like to do everything I can to help out my Dad. He’s going on 89 and while he can still be as sharp as a tack, he’s fading away. Lost without my Mother, he’s reimagined their life together, turning it into a Love Story For The Ages. And while I know the real version was nothing like he wants to remember, I agree with him as my heart breaks a little bit more every time I see him.
My younger brother and I have become closer than ever, as my older brother doesn’t talk to him either. The eldest, as far as I understood it to be, was supposed to step up and help us out. Instead, after taking my Father to his lawyer and having a will drawn up with him as the executor (not my Father’s wishes, but as the only one of us who went to college, his opinion seems to be the only one that matters) my older brother, when he was still talking to my younger brother, told him if anything in the will was changed, he would take me to court and say that I forged documents. He has some resentment towards me because when Hurricane Irene destroyed our house he wanted to put my Parents in an assisted living place while my Parents just wanted their house back. I, with the help of my younger brother, moved Heaven and Earth to make that happen and it pissed him off that I, a girl who never went to college, was able to get them back home.

So I’ve been dealing with a lot health-wise, and the three things that made me happiest disappeared. No more daily phone calls and Mother/Daughter getaways, my BFF became my occasional F due to, well, life, and my writing became a distant memory. With virtually no one to truly confide in anymore, I began to think of myself as worthless, cold and uncaring about anything. Basically, I make myself sickeningly pathetic and I’m sick of it. I sometimes wish I could just breakdown and cry my eyeballs out, but my feelings have frozen and I feel unmeltable.

Even my Birthday came and went without fanfare, it took me weeks to open the Birthday Card my favorite Aunt Judy sent me, as if I wasn’t even worthy of a card. I feel like an idiot for allowing myself to fall this hard and I realize I’m the only one who can save me.

And then something happened to wake me up. Out of nowhere, I received something in the mail from some very special Miscreants. There was no return address so it wasn’t until I opened it that I realized what it was, a fun pack that to this very second still makes me smile, hard.

Somehow, I’ve managed to babble about nothing important to anyone but me myself and I, but I have to admit, I feel a little bit better.

I was Blessed enough to attend two Facebook events this past week, one was a release party for
Anastasia Vitsky‘s new book Taliaschild and the other was Decadent Publishing 5th Annivesary Party.

They both gave me life. Inspired me. Woke me up. Stirred something in my soul to remind me who I am.

I’m back, and this time, I’m back to stay. No more not answering comments, no more ignoring life. It’s time to live again, and a great part of my resurrection is you. And you. Also you.
While these words are not my own, the sentiment is a perfect truth : “Love is all that matters.”

This time, I will not forget that.
And one last thing, I apologize to everyone I’ve seemingly ignored, it wasn’t you, it was me.
Love. It is once again in my heart, I would like nothing more than to spread it around.

a me I want to go back to these days (my Mom in the background, me and my Uncle)



et cetera