confirmation

All weekend I have been intending to get here to the internet cafe' and post a poem I wrote friday night during an interactive erotic artistic experience at a place called the little red studio. The experience was quite liberating, and as I sit down to reflect on it, I'm struck with how little I'm able to feel that sense of liberation in the presant moment. You see, today begins the confirmation hearing for John Roberts who has been nominated to become the next Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court. This confirmation process is the one democratic moment that will be followed by a career of judicial independance, and the potential for judicial activism. There is a lot at stake here, and yet Republicans in congress continue to announce that this confirmation hearing is not an appropriate venue for scrutiny over Roberts view on issues including civil rights, women's rights and privacy. If this is not the time, when is?
By calling into question the appropriateness of addressing the issues that will more than likely come before the court under his leadership, the right wing not only discredits the concerns of their collegues in congress and the constituancies they represent, but attempts to deny them the right to raise concern at all. Today is a day whose events will impact generations of Americans. As I sit here feeling helpless and anxious, people are going about their daily business unaware that their rights are being undermined by a religious agenda.


I apologize to those of you who came looking for erotic poetry. I'm afraid I'm just not in the mood.

-Jillian

kill the poet

I tried to kill the poet
by destroying all her words
but it seems the tearing
as the sweetest sound she'd ever heard
she can't help but see the beauty
in these moments of despair
with all her precious poetry
like ribbons in the air

I tried to kill the poet
because she stands accused
my hearts been fooled by whimsy
and my body has been used
I'm tired of her brave ideals
that keep me full of hope
that leaves me disappointed
so I'll need her help to cope

My objective self is killing me
torturing my hear for poetry

I tried to kill the poet
but she simply wouldn't die
she sits and writes these words right now
to prove she's still alive
I didn't want to feel the things
that fuel her lyric fire
I can't believe in all the dreams
to which she still aspires

my objective self is killing me
torturing my heart for poetry

I tried to kill the poet
because she's the part of me
that leaves the dagger in my heart
just to feel the sting
and my love is the cruelest love
that she has ever seen
she says his poet is her soul-mate
and I wanted to believe

but things are not in waking life
the way they are in dreams
and love is not the blessing
that at first it always seems
and so I shred the bounty
that she harvests from my sorrow
and silence for a moment
what will just return tomorrow

my objective self is killing me
torturing my heart for poetry

something sacred

Laying down in my bed at night to go to sleep, I often lay awake in the dark with my head reeling over the day, the week, my life-time.... Often I keep myself up untill I my body starts to shut down of it's own accord just to avoid that time. Lately, I have found that if I lay my body down on the couch and listen to NPR, I can manage to distract my mind with thoughts outside myself and I fall asleep with little effort. So, there I was at 2am listening to the BBC world news when I heard about the monkeys of Deli. They have bread out of control and all but taken over the city. They invade offices and homes stealing food and often attacking children. The people are afraid to go outside, but still the monkeys go unchallanged in this culture that has traditionaly viewed them as sacred creatures representing the Hindu god Hanomon (spelling?).
I thought this might make a great topic for a blog tangent, so I started thinking of it in terms of the problems that arrise when the things that we hold sacred over-run our lives. I tried to draw parallels to our culture, but quickly realized that while individuals in our culture cling to their own symbols of meaning and relevance, there is no one thing that we as a nation collectively hold sacred.

Let's take a look at the sacred value of human life.
Right wing Christian conservatives will tell you that the right to life is sacred. But despite the passion with which they persue their "pro-life" aganda, it is very difficult for me to believe that life is actually something sacred to them. If life were sacred, then the lives of all people, including the hundreds of thousands of innocent people they have slain in the "war on terrorism" would be sacred too. The lives of death-row inmates would be sacred. The lives of children outside of the womb... those in need of education and health care... you'd think those might be sacred too, but they are not. These unwanted children are largely ignored until they become old enough to join the military, and then, they are ferousiously recruited so that once again, their lives can be treated as expendable, and their deaths can be dismissed as "collatoral damage." It seems that the monkeys of Deli are more sacred than the poor of America.

How about family?
I remember my last visit with my father before he died. We walked along the docks of the marina in Laughlin Nevada, and talked about all things. At the time, he was very interested in buying a small house boat to live on, but was afraid of what my grand-mother might think. He told me that she was always so proud of the home that he and my uncle had built.... the home I had grown up in. He didn't want to hear the disappointment in her voice when she learned that he had chosen a life-style that to her would seem transient. I remember feeling incredibly surprised that at his age he still worried so much about obtaining his mothers approval. I have even known people who have been abused or neglected by their families, who still drive themselves crazy trying to feel that sense of familial harmony, that realistically will never exist for them. But does this need to be loved and appreciated for who we are by the people who brought us into this world mean that family is something sacred? From this perspective, it seems to be the opposite. If family were sacred, wouldn't that love and approval be inherant in those relationships? But then again, I believe that if family weren't sacred, we would let go of the concerns that make us worry about them... that makes us want to please... that make us care about those who have strayed into what we see as dangerous territory. Maybe our families are the sacred monkeys that over-take our lives.

What about love?
Perhaps this will reflect my growing cynicism on the subject... but as far as I can tell, love is as sacred in this culture as it is to the multiplying monkeys themselves.

So, how do we look at the situation in Deli. Do we laugh at them because they have allowed their beliefe in a symbol to over-ride the health and well being of the people in their society? Or do we admire their integrity for not dismissing their sacred symbols because they have become inconvienant.

Realistically speaking, I think that the best solution for the monkey problem is to implement an intensive spay and neuter program to help keep the population down.

It wouldn't hurt us to think about how reducing unwanted pregnancies through education about contraception could help allieviate the other problems I mentiononed when examining our own culture. Perhaps, we are the monkeys who have bred out of control and become nuisances.

But if we are the monkeys, we need to remember that we ourselves are something sacred and treat ourselves accordingly.

spun....

it's in the webs we weave
and the prices that we pay
for the things that we believe
and the beliefs that we betray
and we're living in a jungle
where we can not see the trees
distracted by the errors
that we're not supposed to see
and spiders are at work tonight
spinning silk by full moon-light
helping us learn how to simply be
And water is the blood that flows
through river beds like veins
rushing to the ocean
to return as rain again
and humans are the toxins
that the earth must filter out
but still she lets us live
and she will give
and she will give
until we've taken all there is
and we have worn our welcome out

6am

I want to put my lips to yours
to feel the breath within you
and fall so deep into your eyes
that I see things from their view
I want my touch to tell you things
that voices can not say
I'd like to spend the night with you
but night's turned into day
so we sit here in this silence

that is comfortable and clear
and listen to the subtleties
that we forget to hear
and weariness comes creeping in
and though we are inspired
I don't have the energy
that wakefulness requires

I want to go to sleep
but I don't want to sleep alone
why can't you understand
without you this place isn't home

everything is softly lit
this time will soon be gone
and you shine like the falling star
that I just wished upon
patience is the virtue
that I need to excercise
if you're meant to be with me
you'll realize it in time

my love will always be here
I hope you'll always feel it
my heart is for the taking
there is no need to steal it
life is such a fleeting thing
gone before we know it
I know there is love in you
but you're afraid to show it

I want to go to sleep
but I don't want to sleep alone
why can't you understand
without you this place isn't home

you take my breath from me
you can make my heart race
those songs you play for me
paint a different mind-scape

state of the nation

it's a great idea
and you say it's worked before
but I think it's clear to see
it isn't working any more
the rich are growing wealthier
by stealing from the poor
and those who run the system
are the ones the system's for
and the democratic visions
that so many of us shared
have been defaced by vandals
and they need to be repaired
'cause what we see is trickery
what we hear is corporate speak
they gather for their posses
those whose intellects are weak
they feed them their PR campaigns
and wash it down with booze
and make them chant for victory
just to see another lose
'cause their lives aren't the pictures
of the dreams that have been promised
and they've been told the ones who hold
the power are where god is
and they'll believe a liar
if he says he's being honest
and they'll make us live in fear
that the enemy is near
and sacrifice our liberties to calm us.

true love

I have finally found true love in my life.
My true love is a large wooden box full of metal strings and black and white keys.
When I touch her, she makes the most beautiful sounds.

I have finally found true love in my life
My true love is a slow lazy creek winding through a lush green forest.
When we are together I am at peace.

I have finally found true love in my life.
My true love is a floppy eared mutt with a purple spotted tongue.
She looks at me with love and kindness in her eyes.

I have finally found true love in my life.
My true loves are the felines who circle round my feet like a pond full of koi.
Every morning they gently coax me into wakefulness with their tender purrs.

I have finally found true love in my life.
My true love is a short tattooed blond girl who writes poetry.
She is with me everywhere I go.

photograph

they were walking towards me
staring downward at the ground
you were looking up to see
what might be coming down
and I want to wrap my arms 'round you
but they've become too thin
and you were just a photograph
that I was never in
you were just a song that I
thought I'd heard before
you were just a key for me
to unlock secret doors
you were simply poems
that I never thought I'd wright
You're the dreams that come
to visit me when I'm asleep at night
and I'm the leading lady
but my hero is a villan
and distance is the weapon
that he uses for his killing
your absence is the atmosphere
your silence is the score
and our love is the story
that I can't read into anymore.

Love and Trust

I just saw a bumper sticker that read: "Love many, Trust few.... Always row your own cannoe."

Isn't it funny when profound realizations come from the asses of carbon spewing objects?

wake down

wake down
something's changing now
my dreams are speaking for me
what I could not say out loud
and what I fear the most in life
are things that I endure
how can I be so certain
when you're still so unsure
and tonight I'll sleep between the walls
that you and I once shared
remembering the ways in which
you showed me that you cared
tomorrow I'll pick up and leave
to live beside the creek
to find the independence
and the peace of mind I seek
and I'm proud of you for all the
opportunities you've found
and hoping that you'll want to
stay with me when you're around
I know I can't hold onto you
'cause you'll be here and gone
and our love's just a detour from
the road that you are on
but just to have that moment
when you look into my eyes
and see through protective layers
that I wear for my disguise
and undernieth the callouses
a tender heart still thrives
in hopes that we'll be friends
for the remainder of our lives

precious

the life you hold is innocent
her mind is still so pure
all she has to live on
is what you will give to her
and you're yelling at her father
to be heard over the sound
of the TV that will raise her
when you can not be around
so I say a little prayer for her
that she will grow up strong
and not become the parents
who've already done her wrong



My upstairs neighbors delivered their new daughter only days ago. I can't even stand to live beneath these people, and she will have to grow up in that environment. I couldn't help thinking as I lied there trying to rest through the cacophony that is their daily routine that she ought to be experiencing the nurturing tenderness that my dog was receiving from me at the time. Instead she was surrounded by the energy of people who disrespect themselves and everyone around them for no other reason than that they lack the sensibilities to value themselves. What a way to start life.

the way it goes....

the summer air is sticky
I lie naked in my bed
I'd like to sleep, but I can't stop
the noise that's in my head
trying to make sense out of
the words that you have said
not sure that I was hungry for
the things that I've been fed

our bodies were electrical
and everything seemed right
I started to feel skeptical
when you changed over night
now thoughts that once brought warmth to me
cause shivers deep inside
you said you didn't play these games
it seems now that you lied

and because I never knew you
I'm not sure who I miss
or how you faked the passion
that I felt there in your kiss
your gentle eyes seem hardened now
they've turned from blue to gray
and when I tried to read them
they just turned and looked away

and comfort was a side effect
that wasn't meant to be
and you were looking outside
when I thought you saw inside of me
and silence is the answer
to every qustion that I ask
'cause where I saw a future
there was nothing but the past

and I know this feeling's common
but it never hurts the same
every lover is unique
in how they cause you pain
and I always seem to fall behind
so now I'll leave the race
there's no chance left at winning
and no hope of saving face

but loneliness is something
that I'll just need to embrace
'cause I've so much potential
that I wouldn't want to waste
and if you haven't seen it then
I guess that you're just blind
and wishing that you cared for me
is just a waste of time

so here I'm moving forward
trying not to look behind
purging all the toxic thoughts
poisoning my mind
and sighing deep will help release
the heaviness I've felt
I'll try to make a winning hand
from what cards I've been dealt

and I hope that you'll find happiness
in all the things you choose
with nothing to hold onto
you've got nothing to lose
and you don't have to worry 'bout
anybodies thoughts
on all the things that make you you
and all the things that you are not

and I saw something worthy
but the way that you behaved
makes me see you don't deserve me
and it seems to me a shame
'cause there were good times to be had
that we will never know
and though it kinda makes me sad
I guess that's just the way it goes.





The above poem was written late last night/early this morning. Upon further reflection I have to say that honestly I have brought all my suffering upon myself. I have hurt people in my life and acted selfishly and betrayed trust. When I write poems like these and endulge in self pitty I am just playing the victum while avoiding my own responsibility for my loneliness. Yes, there are times when I can no longer distract my observational skills from turning inward, and I don't always like what I see in there. It reminds me of a poem I wrote about a year ago when this whole cycle was originally set into motion:


the universe is a poet
our lives are it's words
the beauty we put into it
is given in return
and the hurt that we cause others
we inflict upon ourselves
the wrongs that have been done to us
we've done to someone else
it's not exactly karma
it's poetic irony
a cosmic sense of humor
manipulating energy

Missionary

Hello missionary
come and sell your god to me
I can't seem to think for myself
perhaps you'll help me see
you know that I need saving
'cause I live in poverty
I'll purchase your compassion
at the price of my belief

I've come to share my words with you
because I speak the truth
mine is the only way to see
this book I hold is prood
relief might not come in your life
but I promise when you die
you'll float up to some paradise
way up in the sky

maybe I'll save you instead
you have so much to learn
we're a peaceful people
we're just living from the earth
we're living from the earth
we're worshiping the earth
for what it's worth

the children are so hungry
this mother's heart's in sorrow
you say I must have faith today
for what will come tomorrow
we're grateful for your charity
what happens when you're gone
prayers just aren't enough to eat
how can we carry on

Gods ways are a mystery
and yes it's quite a riddle
why I've been blessed so very much
and you've been blessed so little
be careful though, he's watching you
and if you don't obey
he'll damn you to eternal hell
upon your final judgment day

maybe I'll save you instead
you have so much to learn
we're a peaceful people
we're just living from the earth
we're living from the earth
we're worshiping the earth
for what it's worth

out of the pink

I should have held a little back
but of course I laid it out
I thought that this was different
but inside I had my doubts
as much as I've been through this
you'd think that I'd have learned
that when you play with fire
there's a good chance to get burned
and jaded is the feeling
when after while you find
that pessimistic voices
speak truth most of the time
and give and take's one sided
if you're not willing to give
and getting nothing in return
is just no way to live
so I'll pick up right where I left off
as if you never were
and try harder to protect myself
to keep from getting hurt

suicide bomber

his victums call him coward
but he died for his belief
we count our dead, ignoring theirs
as if they don't feel grief
and the bombs that kill their children
we say spread democracy
and eye for an eye
will leave the world blind
unless we choose to see
the cost in lives per gallon
for our flashy SUV's
we have to change the way we live
in order to make peace

but no one wants to hear the truth
and so we dance around it
by ignoring what is obvious
the problems are compounded
but when everybody's high
on this patriotic pride
there's nothing we need more
than to be gounded
every person's blood is red
and every culture moarns their dead
we won't know what we've lost
untill we've found it.

on the way...

"CAR WASH"
a youthful voice raised to it upper most heights yelled out over the noise of traffic.
I was on my way here to the internet cafe' to do some writing. As my dog and I approached her, I read the words on her flourecent green sighn, and they said: "Help us raise money for Mexico."
"Are you actually raising money to give to poor people in Mexico?" I asked her.
"No, we're going on a mission to mexico, and some people still need money to get there."
"Oh," I said, " So, what are you preaching?"
She looked confused, and almost hesitated before answering "Christianity" in a voice that implied "duh."
"huh," I shook my head and walked away.
Her head and her sighn both seemed to lower, and I didn't hear her voice yelling "CAR WASH" behind me.
What can I say.....
I guess when you believe there is only one answer, you don't like being questioned.

fragile

there's something in your eyes right now
that makes me think you'll see
the things that other people don't
those hidden parts of me
and I want to touch your body
just to feel your warmth within
let go of what has ended
to allow this to begin
but new things are so fragile
and I worry it might break
and things that seem so genuine
could turn out to be fake
I guess that I'm just frightened
because I've believed before
that someone would be there for me
but he's not here no more
and I know I shouldn't think this way
but sometimes it's just hard
outside I might be smooth and soft
but inside I am scarred

fragments

there's no return to innocence
you can't unlearn the things you know
where does one run for shelter
when the storms rage from below
and I'm sorting through the memories
of moments that are gone
weighed down by all the heavy things
that I keep holding on
and he's like a ghost whose eyes I can see
staring intently directly through me
and the silence is an echo
and I wonder if he knows
how it feels from this perspective
or why he chose the things he chose
and words are lost when weariness
creeps into my bones
and circles come around again
because they long to close.

going south

water reflects the mood of the sky
but this time the gray doesn't match what's inside
'cause I feel like summer despite the cold breeze
'cause I'm going south where the music will be
have a new friend and I'm liking his vibe
he's going south, I'm along for the ride
and the sun will remember how I glow in its rays
and I'll be in motion for the next several days
and I think I'll forget all the things that cause worry
I'm in with the flow and in no kind of hurry
the company's good, and the view from the road
and new things to see that I've never been shown
I'm heading down south and it makes me feel free
and I'm closer to the person that lives inside of me
I'll let my feet walk barefoot, and let my skin touch air
I'll let my smile find my eyes, and take the ties out of my hair
and maybe I'll reveal the things that I don't often share
as we're rolling along to the beat of a song
all for the sake of just going somewhere.

So I wrote that piece on my way to the coffee shop to meet my new friend Mr. Pink and take off to California for a couple days. Pink works with the band Maktub (http://www.maktub.com/) who was playing a couple shows at the High Sierra Music Festival in Quincy California. Pink and I have been working on our own musical project and his keen sensitivities told him that I could use the escape, so he invited me along. I am very happy that he did because it was a great experience on multiple levels. First of all, I very much enjoyed getting to know him better because he is truly a beautiful person. I also got to experience what it's like to be on the other side of the fence. As part of the bands entourage I was given a backstage pass in the form of a blue bracelet. It almost felt like a power band at times allowing me to avoid the crowds, and most importantly the porta-potties. There were food and beverages available, and even the opportunity for free massage. I have to say that I was happy to have no reason to partake of the massage because Mr. Pink is quite the masseur himself:)
Attending a festival in this way was quite interesting. Being separate from the regular concert goers helped me to see it from a different perspective. Over the past several years I have attended quite a few of these gatherings, and was increasingly finding myself uncomfortable with something I couldn't put my finger on. You see, there are people who make a life style out of going from one festival to another all wrapped up in tie-dyed sarongs selling ganja cookies on shake-down street. There was a time in my life when I thought this was freedom. But behind the fence that separated the artists from the fans was yet another fence, and on the other side of that fence was a timber yard. As I stood there with sweaty hippies dancing to my right, and a grave yard for murdered trees on my left, I couldn't help feeling like these people were missing the point. It was interesting to watch them as they kept their eyes from wandering over to the inevitable buzz-kill of the dead trees. And while they ate mushrooms and payed homage to the earth, there was one lonely bearded man standing in a pile of garbage trying to sort out the recyclables.

Thank you bearded guy.

-Jillian

then what happened?

For those of you who are fans of foxfire, I'll simply pick up where he left off. If you have no idea what I'm talking about then checkout http://www.livejournal.com/users/foxfire/.

So, after observing another writer observing the characters in the room, I gave him my blog address, said good-night to everyone and headed home to walk my dog. Moments later I found myself colliding with a honda full of teenage boys. The driver had failed to yeild to on-coming traffic while making a left turn. I was entering the intersection when he turned right in front of me. My foot slammed onto the breaks, and my hand onto the horn, but there was no time to stop. The driver froze like a deer in headlights, and three young faces stared right at me as my car slammed into them. It happened so fast, and yet time seemed to slow. My body tensed as I prepared myself for the inevitable impact which was only confirmed by the thunderous crashing of metal and plastic that followed.
The driver got out of his car and ran over to me to see if I was alright. I felt really irritated. I didn't want to get out of my car. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to see his little brother and their friend stumble out of the car in their movie theatre uniforms looking shocked and drowsy. I just wanted to go back in time and decide to leave a few moments earlier or later to avoid the collision. I looked at the other driver. He looked to be about 17 years old. He was asian, and wore a wooden cross around his neck. He wanted to do the right thing, but he was scared. He asked if he should call the police and said yes. The police told him that if nobody was injured we should just exchange information and go on our ways. I felt incredibly uncomfortable at this suggestion and insisted that he call the police back and request a police report.
It took about an hour for the police man to arrive. In that time I sat in my car, which I had moved out of the intersection and into a nearby parking lot, and watched the young driver stare straight forward, then alternately straight at me. I could tell what he was thinking was something along the lines of "my parents are going to be so pissed..." and "I hope that girl is alright." I honestly felt for him, but was begining to feel for myself. My neck started aching and my whole body was kind of tense and shaky. The initial shock was begining to wear off, and I felt very tired. I just wanted to go home and go to sleep, but I kept waiting.
The wait was excruciating for another reason. I realized that I didn't really have anybody to call.... nobody to come be with me in this moment where the speed at which everything can change had been demonstrated to me, albeit relatively harmlessly. I made several phone calls, but nobody was answering. At last I decided to call my friend Erik in New York.
Erik and I had only met in person twice, but had gotten to know eachother long-distance through many late-night phone conversations. A few months or so ago, I helped talk him out of reinlisting in the military which would have innevitably sent him back to the war that had already claimed several chunks of his neck and chest and perhaps a more sizable chunk of his sanity (not to mention several friends). Since then we had been discussing the possibility of my paying him a visit in New York. He finaly finished his military duty and got a place about twenty miles outside of Manhattan and had started working as a wage slave in some shitty job and making music with his old guitar player from his old project "isolate".
Erik seemed concerned and asked me to call him back when the police interaction was over to let him know how it had gone. I waited till I got home and called him back. It was getting pretty late at this point, but my mind was reeling. There was no way I could have slept, so we talked for hours. We talked about what we would do when I came to visit.... the things I'd like to see, and the places he'd like to show me. We talked about collaborating musicly, and getting some video footage for a documentary project we had discussed previously. As the night wore on, and we imagined spending four days in one anothers company, the conversation became more intimate. Before long I moved into my bedroom and laid down in the dark to continue the conversation. As it started to turn erotic, I noticed my cell battery was dying. I told him I'd call him back when it had charged a bit. By the time it did, we had both gotten ourselves rather worked up. The conversation elevated to.. lets say... steamy, and the battery died again. It went on like this for some time till we had both achieved release. It seemed to be just what I needed to come down from the adreneline buzz from the accident. I went to sleep at last.
The next morning Erik called and woke me up to tell me that he no longer wanted me to come and visit him in New York. I was half asleep and didn't really understand the sudden change, but he uttered something incoherant about my previous relationships with two of his friends. His tone was accusatory, and I suddenly got the feeling that he was a man who was incapable of respecting a woman who is expressive of her sexuality. In this morning after haze, my body was begining to feel the effects of the accident, and I was feeling the sting of betrayal from the one friend I had who was there for me when I had needed him the night before.
I groaned and called my workplace to inform them that I had been in an accident and would be taking the day off to see a doctor.