joannebest











{March 10, 2016}   Either Or

depressed

Would it matter if I ran to you
legs pumping heart beating
arms open wide?

Or

Would you say you wish you made it
and then tell me that you tried
but it was out of your control?

Will my happy ever after
appear out of nowhere
the way the music told me?

Or

Will I have to crawl and beg
gobble up the crumbs thrown my way
and swallow with a smile?

When this black fog lifts
will the sun shine down on me
leading me out of this darkness?

Or

Will this black fog darken
thicken as it chokes me
laughing as it sees me crumble?

Will it matter either way?

disappearing girl1



{December 24, 2015}   Harder Than They Told Me

christmaswou4
well it’s Christmas Eve
but I don’t feel Christmas in my heart
oh it’s Christmas Eve and I don’t feel a thing
yeah it’s Christmas Eve
and memories keep running through my mind
yeah it’s Christmas Eve and you aren’t coming back

they told me it gets easier as the years crawl by
they said there’d come a time
when I would smile
they told me I would feel your warmth
your love surrounding me
but all I feel are teardrops in my eyes

nothing is the same since you’ve been gone
no matter how I try to get along
nothing much makes sense to me
I’m not the girl I used to be
another Christmas Eve again without you here
christmaswou3

christmaswou

for all those alone at Christmas, even if you’re surrounded by people, and for those alone wishing desperately that they weren’t… for all of us who suffered loss of any kind…. sometimes, it’s more raw than you expected and…. well, as alone as we feel, remember, we aren’t alone, even when it seems like it, but sometimes we need to wallow… shutting up now to watch Christmas movies set unrealistic expectations so we can all feel worse about our lives 😛

Merry Christmas my lovelies, you keep me writing, and while I’ve been MIA lately, I’m dipping my toes in and New Year Resolutions and all {happy dance} so try and enjoy, and I will too, a New Year and new beginnings my friends, yes?
oh, one more thing, this is being written as song lyrics and I just spit these words out a little while ago and didn’t want to forget, keep you updated on the outcome of these words 🙂

All the love from me to you ❤



{October 16, 2015}   Waning

waning moon

like the moon
like the tide
i come and go,
sometimes,
i disappear for eons,
sometimes,
i pop back up again
as if i was never gone,
even when i seem changed
still i remain me,
facets filtered through prisms,
masks of me
shuffled like a deck of cards,
it’s a crapshoot,
never knowing which me is in control,
i wonder where i have been and
i wonder what did i find, if anything,
though i knew all along
there is nothing for me,
not here, not there,
not along the trash filled streets of my own personal apocalypse,
when the tide pulls away,
i wonder,
will it take me with it,
or leave me to drown in the new normal of my orphan existence,
for now
i am alone

waning moon1



{March 25, 2015}   Lost At Sea

aliceapplee

if i fall
would you catch me now
or take a step back
and watch me crash
splatter in bits,
bloody and worn
just the way you found me

if i stumble,
heart in my hand and
a little worse for wear
would you reach out
or pass me by,
a distorted reflection
in your rearview mirror

if I keep it all inside
messy emotions
twisted and tangled
would you pull me apart and unravel me
or would your fingers fumble
leaving me without a lifeline
as i float aimlessly
lost at sea
with no land in sight

lost-at-sea1



{January 1, 2015}   Another Year, Another Year

buffyme2
Buffy: I got nothing left to lose.” Whistler:”Wrong kid, you got one more thing.”
~
It’s always the same.
The buildup now begins before Halloween, by the time Christmas arrives we are exhausted.
Then we have New Years Eve.
For the most part, we women are not only expected to make sure everything, and I mean everything is done the way we’re expected to have everything done. Usually without direction, lists, suggestions, and , oh yeah, help. (Yes, dear husband, you do help me and no, I’m not talking about you. Ahem.)
Now where were we?
Expectations.
We all have them.
We really shouldn’t.
Until we can truly walk a mile (or a day) in someone else’s shoes, no matter how much we do or do not communicate, we will never live up to someone else’s expectations. Never.
We can turn ourselves inside out and it still won’t happen.
Because we are who we are.
And until people stop expecting others to be exactly what they think we should be, we will fail them every single time.
This year, I will do my best to stop expecting anything, from anybody.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the friends and family I have, but it’s been made painfully clear, especially in the last year or so, when it comes down to it, I really am all I have.
And in the interest of full disclosure, I do pretend I’m not all I have, but let’s just keep that between us, okay?
buffyme1

Angelus: No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away, and what’s left?Buffy: Me.



{August 21, 2014}   Broken ~

haiku, of a sort
connection

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
slow separation
inevitable letdown
connection broken
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

connection4



{August 9, 2014}   I Blinked

dontblink3
“Baby did a bad bad thing. Baby did a bad bad thing.”
Nah, not really. I mean if we’re talking about me, and we are talking about me.
See, what I did was I let my self forget that my New Normal is my New Normal for just a millisecond.
I blinked.
And the Angels stopped weeping and circled me, keeping me terrified and alone.
~
If only I had a Doctor with a TARDIS as my BFF. I wouldn’t even have to be a Companion, he could just stop by once in awhile for a cup of tea and give me a good talking too. I mean, if he insists, or some intergalactic emergency happens, at least the TARDIS can bring me back to the same moment we leave.
Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t lose my mind, and I apologize to those who don’t watch Doctor Who since I’m making all these Doctor Who references (which, by the way, if you aren’t watching Doctor Who, well, why not?), I’ve just been frozen in place and unable to break the ice.
I would like to say I’m not making excuses but that would be a lie.
I’m just not sure what those excuses exactly are. It’s summertime and beautiful outside, I have so much pent up writing inside me and it’s long past time to finish Fiction Rally Part 4 but I’m surrounded by Weeping Angels and can’t blink.
Or, maybe I just need a good old fashioned boot in the ass, as my Mom used to say. And yes, I understand I’m still grieving the loss of my Mom and the slow painful destruction of the Family she kept together.
But that’s no excuse to stop and forget how to do the happy dance. She would give me a verbal good old fashioned kick in the ass right about now if she were here.
So this is my letter of apology to you, my wonderful lovelies who’ve saved my life more times than any of you know.
It’s time to stop worrying about blinking, to stop letting those Weeping Angels keep me frozen in time and space, because The Doctor has worlds to save, usually ours by the way, so I must be my own Superhero.
And the first thing I need to save is my self.
dontblink1



{August 2, 2014}   If I Wake Up Dead Tomorrow

dead2
if i wake up dead tomorrow
it might take awhile for anyone to notice,
my cats, well they would want me to feed then
although they do love me, this i know,
but sometimes i think, no, i know, they love me best,
selflessly,
even when they want their crunchies,
it gets hard sometimes, living up to my promise,
the one where censuring myself would never cross my mind,
but it’s begun,
little snarks here, direct accusations there,
it makes me wonder sometimes, who is more self-centered,
the reader or the writer?
we weave reality through fiction
and fiction through reality,
words flow, meaningful and meaningless,
as long as they flow it’s a gift
and oh we are blessed if we are gifted,
and we are all gifted, in our own ways,
but my gift it seems, doesn’t weigh too much, so,
usually,
i paint on my smile and lie through my teeth,
it’s not you it’s me and all that,
because it is me, mostly,
i was born on a Wednesday and nothing will keep the woe away,
you can preach to me till you’re blue in the face,
that is, when you find the time and i enter your mind, when you pencil me in,
yes, yes i get it, i get it all,
maybe that’s the problem,
i mean mine, not yours of course,
so if i wake up dead tomorrow
leave me be,
throw me in the ocean and weigh me down with bricks,
dress me in my favorites but please,
if you could, slip me a pen,
regardless of my surroundings, i always find something to write on,
if i wake up dead tomorrow i will carry on, wherever i wind up,
for i always do,
as you will, as you always do,
until then, i may whine, i may cry like the cancer-moon-girl i am, the lunatic howling at the moon
only my howls sound more like sobs,
but in the end i carry me with me,
i am now my hope,
the blood that courses through my veins belongs to me,
they’ve made that clear,
through actions and non-words my blood belongs to me alone,
and it will pump through this body
until that day,
when that tomorrow comes,
and i wake up dead
dead



{May 31, 2014}   I Am A Garbage Can

garbage2
At least that’s what my Dentist told me.
Oh, it has nothing to do with my teeth or what kind of food I eat. She was talking about middle-child-guilt-ridden me. And she’s right.
Let me put it in reverse a bit. First of all, I have the most awesome dentist in the world. She’s about the same age as I am and we have a lot in common. You know, except for the part where she’s a doctor and has children and travels around the world with her doctor husband and I don’t. But other than that, she’s the best friend I should have had.
It’s like I can talk to her about anything, and I mean anything. And I do.
Let’s put it this way, she calls me Crazy Joanne and in my book (and hers), that’s a compliment.
So I had an appointment this morning and it didn’t take much more than half a second for her to know I wasn’t me. I walked like me and talked like me and looked like me but she saw right thorough my fake bullshit smile and my “everything’s great” stride.
Didn’t take much longer for her to blast a big fat hole in my self-made fortress and break everything down to one little sentence; “you have to love yourself”, she said.
You know that punched-in-the-gut-breathless feeling? That.
“Oh,” said I. Quietly. “I guess I don’t really do that.”
“I know,” she replied.
~
I barely managed to halt the instantaneous tear trying desperately to escape my eye but I did. Then I told her she was only supposed to make me cry when she was sticking a needle in my mouth and wasn’t she supposed to be my dentist, not my therapist?
She just did that cocked eyebrow thing she does so well and may have possibly slapped me upside the head, or it just felt that way.
“You’re a garbage can,” she told me.
And in much more eloquent words than mine, she explained how I let everybody throw their garbage at me, that they get rid of it and I hold on to it. That I should close the lid of the garbage can and let it roll off my back.
She used a lot more words, better ones too, but that was the general gist of it all.
I am a garbage can.
And it’s time to take out the trash.
garbage



{May 29, 2014}   Moon Shift

moonshift1
everything seems to have shifted
and to my surprise, i don’t even care,
of course if i take a step back,
and check the phase of the moon,
i’ll remember i am the moon and predictably,
i will rise after i sink,
but first i must sink, and this time i’m sinking deep,
throw it all at me in frantic spurts then
leave me in silence huddled on the floor,
unsure and on the edge,
set it on replay, with frequent pauses
just to throw me off,
none of it matters, because i don’t care,
not anymore,
it’ll all just shift back again regardless,
the infrequent bursts of joy will appear unannounced
and i’ll forget nothing is for keeps
till it takes me by surprise once more,
catches me unawares
and everything seems to shift again,
like the moon
moonshift3



et cetera