joannebest











{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

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{September 5, 2015}   Lowering Liquid

jack3

the level lowers quickly,
that dark liquid magnifier,
a bottle lessens to a drop and another cracks open,
see, it’s the weekend you know, and everything must go
according to a fantasy schedule, unshared and unbelievable,
easier to play along till your bones are suddenly screaming from an unintended stumble,
collision unexpected and yes, balance no longer works,
soft reasonable patient words unheard,
slurry mumbled snark, the kind where they’re only kidding and
don’tcha have a sense of humor,
your sanity questions you to shake things up
and a bump grows on your eyebrow, stabby painful and nothing new
lather rinse repeat because it never goes away.
they fight for control but Jack always wins these days,
an occasional visitor who tends to overstay his welcome,
I think he sucks,
but when it’s over no one remembers the demon, just the angel,
all a figment of my imagination

jack



{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



block2
I’ve been gone for too long.
Overwhelmed with life, my writer’s block has been in the drivers seat while the rest of me has been immersed in my shell.
But no matter where I am, I am with me, so running away is not an option. Time to meet my devils head on and start writing again.
It’s hard after being MIA for so long, unsure of myself, my writing, my everything, but it’s been even harder to deny myself my only outlet, so this is a test.
Can I still write? I hope so.
Will I give up again? Possibly.
But now, at the busiest time of year, I’ve got to dive back in, head on and fearless.
I hope I can do it. More importantly, I hope I can earn back your trust and forgiveness.

Like I said, this is a test. I’ve managed to type a little over one hundred words, lets see if I can keep it up. (not in a Viagra way, more like in a writing way)
I have a near houseful of company and a brand new Siamese kitten. But there’s one thing I learned long ago and managed to forget: the more you do, the more you do.

Time for this girl to do more.
block1



{May 7, 2014}   Entertain Them

mic1
It’s always loud.
People.
Laughing talking drinking arguing bodies pressed against each other humming electric.
Waiting.
Sometimes they’re waiting for me.
Of course I’m not stupid enough to believe it’s just me, it’s the whole band. And it doesn’t make it easier knowing that more than half the crowd consists of far better musicians than myself.
It can be petrifying, nothing but me and a mic-stand on a stage surrounded by real musicians.
As I peek out from backstage I flash back to the day I ran out of the auditions for the high school musical because I was afraid to sing alone in front of my chorus teacher.
I see familiar faces mixed amongst strangers eyes. It’s times like these I’m glad I only wear my glasses when I drive, I figure it’s ok because I only have one bad eye. Don’t tell my eye doctor I said that.
The faces are a blur for the most part but I can tell who’s who, hell, if I squint a little I can see who’s standing at the back door smoking a cigarette outside the exit.
So I try not to squint.
It’s time. There’s no turning back. The me that hates being the center of attention, the shy girl, she’s got no say in the matter.
The me that decided it’s my life? Well I’m me, deal with it or don’t.
She’s the me that slinks onto the stage, stares them all in the eye as I spill my blood.
Here they are now entertain them.
mic2
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/witness-protection/
this is my response to the daily prompt, ‘witness protection’ with this description: When you do something scary or stressful — bungee jumping, public speaking, etc. — do you prefer to be surrounded by friends or by strangers? Why? It brought to mind my still-on-hiatus band, and these words…



{March 29, 2014}   Patterns

teardrop
the snow does indeed turn to rain,
torrential, relentless,
a reflection of my insides
pouring down like every soul is crying at once,
but tears are just a joke these days,
weakness,
comparable enough for me to keep them hidden,
i am not a weeping willow tree, on a quest to strangle and tangle myself around you
but i am not a warrior princess either,
there is no strength beneath this shell that carries me,
i am full of fear and mistrust
because patterns,
even armed with that knowledge
we still ride that train cyclical,
hitting that same bump over and over,
the past can rear it’s ugly head like a snake unprovoked,
and we pay for our sins eternal,
real or imagined, we pay,
when the cold war sets in
there is no differentiating between a memory or a dream,
fiction becomes non-fiction to the inconsistent eye,
so i lay my head down and listen to another loud deluge pounding me from the outside in,
seeping through my skin only to seek release unnoticed,
slipping from the corners of my eyes
cryy



cmmom2
One little photograph.
And it’s not even a well taken photo, it’s blurry and off-center, nothing that you’d see in a magazine or framed with a pricey tag slapped on the corner of the frame. But this picture is magical.
If you look really, and I mean really close, there is a lifetime of love captured in a microsecond with an impulsive snap of a camera phone.
My Mother, standing on the deck of the Victorian just watching over Cape May.
Standing there, on that very deck just a few steps away from the door to “our” room was a piece of Heaven to Alice Bridget Carey Best, also known as Mom to me.
Ok, sometimes, Maaaaaaaa, and don’t even try to convince me you haven’t used that tone at least once. A day. Probably more.
cmsnow1
Last year, the end of March, we got one of our Mother/Daughter always-wanna-see’s, snow in Cape May. It wasn’t a big snowstorm, although for one magical day snowflakes fell, lot’s of them, it was beautiful and perfection as we looked out the window and munched on Fish and Chips from The Pilot House (thanks to the wonderful owners of the Victorian for the recommendation!). It was perfection. Warm and cozy and together.
cmmom
It’s human nature to look back and think of what we should have done to have avoided a life-changing event, a catastrophe, but the truth is only the Big Man Upstairs knows that stuff. It must be terrible to know all the heartache that inevitably comes, maybe that’s why we’re meant to remain ignorant of the future.
I had no way of knowing that was the last time Mom and I would go to Cape May together.
Little over a week later she had a broken shoulder and she was gone in a flash, like turning off a light switch.
I can’t ever find that switch, although I still find myself reaching for it, but there is one thing I can do and that thing is keep a promise.
Mom told asked me to make sure she was cremated and make sure I took her back to Cape May, the one place in the world she loved most, the place she and I spent countless Mother/Daughter getaways.
cmv
Let’s just say there were threats of haunting if I didn’t at least sprinkle some of her ashes into the Atlantic Ocean, more specifically of course, Cape May.
Did you ever have to deal with a five foot two red headed blue-eyed angry Irish ghost? Me neither and I’m not about to find out thank you very much.
IMG_20110713_204612
Hence the insanity of driving to Cape May tomorrow morning straight into a snowstorm originally meant to hit all of NJ but now, yeah, Cape May.
I hate driving in snow.
But drive I will.
So wish me luck, or better yet, how ’bout we just cancel the snow and get on with Spring.
That’s me-talk for I hate driving in snow, it freaks me out and I’m kinda petrified about the snow the weather folks are scaring me with but I’m on a mission.
I think I’ll pretend I’m Emma Peel and drive to my magical place, where miracles happen and I can always breathe.
A place I know my Mom will always be, watching over Cape May.
And me.
cmb



{March 11, 2014}   Emotional Rollercoaster

rollercoaster
i don’t always understand
how this rollercoaster operates,
the up and downs are expected yet
my heart grows heavier with each downward spiral
inevitably i find myself facedown, my heart in my gut
unsure if i’ll ever get up again
although i try to keep my cool
i find it’s safer to freeze,
one solid chunk of ice, never to melt
to not know the fire,
flameless and forgotten
for reasons reasonable yet mystifying
i always let myself fall when i should keep on walking
because i always know the ending, even when i’m not the author,
if i could,
i would write another ever-after,
where towers and castles combine without war
and regret does not exist
missin



{February 28, 2014}   Slaying My Dragons

dragonthis
it’s funny in a way,
how you know me better than even i do,
my limits are nonexistent
when it comes to you,
you know my ins and outs
as if you studied them for countless lifetimes
when the truth is i just lay them out in front of you unaware,
there to peruse at your leisure,
it confuses me sometimes, that you know me at all when i don’t even know myself,
that whole ‘i’m-not-worthy’ thing howls through my brain
on a regular basis,
but something changed, somehow,
where a piñata overflowing with insecurities once hung between me and everything i dreamed of
you came along and smashed them all to bits, that devilish grin curving your mouth
as you shredded my fears,
murdered those sharp shiny leeches, clinging to me desperately
in an attempt to bleed me dry,
you just laughed while you slayed my dragons
refusing to take credit for reminding me how to smile’
after all, you told me, it was there all along
dragonslayer



9112

lay me down, lay me down,
lay me down for I am weary
lay me down

will you lead me to the water
will you take me down below
will you offer me some comfort
tell me, where am I to go
will you give to me some shelter
just a place to lay my head
let me sleep the sleep of children
let me sleep till I forget

lay me down, lay me down,
lay me down for I am weary
lay me down

will you fill my soul with goodness
will you show me there is light
let me count the stars in Heaven
spirits shining in the night
will you hold my hand in your hand
lay your kiss upon my brow
tell me there will be tomorrow
that we’ll make it back somehow
911
It was the sirens that woke me up that morning 12 years ago, an otherwise beautiful day twisted into the darkest day in recent history. Nearly everyone remembers where they were September 11th, 2001, that day carved itself into my mind, a memory that won’t fade away, leaving me scarred along with the rest of America.
I live in New Jersey, just close enough to New York City to see the skyline, approximately 20 miles or so as the crow flies, and the World Trade Center was always visible everywhere in this little town I live in, like a marker or a beacon standing high and proud.
We all have our own story from that day, the initial wave of shock and confusion when the first plane hit, the sinking feeling while we watched live as the second plane hit, letting us know this was indeed an intentional strike. The worry so many of us felt wondering if our loved ones were ok. Driving down to the water where crowds of strangers gathered together in disbelief, searching for comfort and feeling helpless as we watched the Towers fall. Radios blasting out of all the cars parked near the water hearing the Pentagon was attacked. Everything about that day was surreal.
I remember clearly driving in my car, every radio station filled with panic, I don’t recall hearing any music, everyone was focused on getting whatever information we could get.
My band had rehearsal that night, none of us wanted to rehearse but we decided to get together anyway, I don’t know, maybe just to feel alive in our collective shock.
Anyway, I wrote a song that very night, the lyrics above were written as I sat on the floor of a studio, not feeling anything but shock and mourning for an act so horrid, so many people dead, so many lives changed forever…. helpless is what I felt the most, but one thing I knew for sure, the world we knew, the America we were, was forever changed.
9111
PLEASE REMEMBER, 9/11/12, WHEN 4 AMERICANS WERE MURDERED IN BENGHAZI AND STILL NOTHING HAS BEEN DONE
9112222



et cetera