hyblaean- Julie

hyblaean- Julie
Location
Chicagoish, Illinois, USA
Birthday
September 30
Bio
40; army brat; bisexual... still living with my ex partner (uhm, it's complicated?); perpetually confused, which makes me look like i'm doing a ditzy act, but actually it's not put on; middle class in cash if not culture (freaking finally); INFP/INFJ; SSRI, lithium, nicotine lozenge and caffeine dependent. Driven to laziness, odd fits of needing to 'fix' things, subthreshold hypomanic moments of productiveness (rarely) and random weirdness (often). --------------------------- If you have regular suicidal thoughts, please try lithium. It's worth a shot and has worked wonders for me.

MY RECENT POSTS

MARCH 25, 2011 10:57PM

recomposted poem

Rate: 23 Flag

was reading through old posts and found this...it's still true, years later

 

they are in the walls
I can hear them scrabbling around for purchase
mewling to get out like starved house pets
wondering where my former love for them is
my dreams know how fickle i am
bouncing from one idea to another
one hope to another
focused for years only to turn around one day
and they are walled inside my mind
never to be touched again
never to be talked to again
a slow withering death of unrequited love and starvation

the price of my soul
i heard that saying once a long time ago
when the first dream still had me entranced
or was that the fifth dream?
the price of my soul is that i have none
destined to run as fast as i can until i die
there is nothing profound in that
no sense of goodness or rightness
just survival
that is all any of us get
why should i be any different?
but i want to be

 *expansive arm gestures*~I want to burn like a thousand candles~
~be a snowflake of incredible beauty~
~be unique and rare and precious~
but i am only my flesh
no fire, no ice
just water and the spaces between the wet
maybe some electricity, does that count as fire?
false fire :) the sense of something about to happen, but fizzling out
a static shock of existence

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Wow and firsties! This one can go] straight to the heart of anyone and give it a good knock.

You can recompost more and more. Hugs and zumapick.
the price of my soul is that i have none
destined to run as fast as i can until i die
there is nothing profound in that
no sense of goodness or rightness
just survival


Right, but the proper survival needs met with ingenuity
and purpose
are the prelude
to your soul's eventual journey.

'just water and the spaces between the wet"
is ok, why not? Water is the ultimate passive-
aggressive element.
It follows others' solid earthy rules
contributes to the air,
puts out the fire.
(all elements accounted for)

water is amniotic, it holds life within it.
fishies, crustaceans, even whales,
the once-mammals who changed their mind.

they are in the walls.
the wall built against the water, the dampness.
I loved this..

I want to burn like a thousand candles~

Your light does burn like that.
HUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
James :) maybe if I had your depth, water would be enough

((Linda)) back atcha woman :)
Plenty of fire here, despite your doubts.
your best thus far.
in this gnome's humble opinion.
Thanks Leon :)

Hey Gnomie, weeding helps all gardens ;) and Thank you.
I threw my dreams away like an apple seed
and the blossomed into a tree in sun and rain.
Yes, the electricity counts as a form of fire...especially for you!

This feels different from your other pieces - at least for me. Like a different you wrote it. Enjoyed it very much nonetheless.

It addressed the constraints in life, for me. The constant, nagging constraints of our thoughts, our dreams, our bodies...striving but not reaching. Well, that's how it felt to me at least.
Surazeus, if only, that is lovely

Beth, yeah, different meds, more therapy, less stress. For all it's angst, this is a better me. :/ *shrug* Now I feel like I can't find any specific point to write about- too deep in layers of bluff and denial, I could be sitting there holding the truth and not know it.
But you are fire
and ice
not melting
yet holding
the essences
in your hand
rated with love
such a lovely poem
I'm with Cyril; this is as good as anything of yours I've read, and that's saying something. Beth is right too; the electricity counts as fire. We are intricate, miraculous tapestries of feeling and mind and memory, tapestries which couldn't exist without the electricity they're woven from.
Thanks Romantic!!

Nana, it's funny, this one has been sitting there for years with no rates. One thing I will say about 'back in the day' is that it was much harder to get any eyeballs. BTW thanks for supporting my poetry for the last year or two. You've been consistently stopping by and saying words of encouragement, and I appreciate it more than I can express.
I never saw this Jules, incredible poem. Electricity and lost dreams. You are unique and rare no doubt about it.
I can see an interesting combination of influences here, starting with Frost. The beginning was oddly reminiscent of Being John Malkovich. It's always fascinating when we recover old poems and see how they fit in our present.
You mix a lot of yourself into this compost.
Julie--I can relate to this Big Time! My last piece was also on the price of the soul. Thanks for posting this.
"the price of my soul is that i have none
destined to run as fast as i can until i die
there is nothing profound in that
no sense of goodness or rightness
just survival"
I like that part, very strongly phrased.

We don't have to just survive or just exist, we have the ability to reach inside our souls and make changes.. Learn to LIVE not just exist.
Glad that you recomposed and posted this one, I love it..
You and I most have been reading each others' minds yesterday, because the two poems fit together.
My mind is a scary place to be, so tread lightly when entering.. grins..
Thank you !{{{{ HUGS}}}}
Great poem, Julie. My attempts at poetry end up in the compost.
Loved this Julie. So glad you reposted.
sad, potent:

"when the first dream still had me entranced
or was that the fifth dream?
the price of my soul is that i have none"

and boy do I ever hear that. brutal. and strong. I love when a poet does not back down from looking hard. big hug.
good word choices here, julie, scrabbling dreams
Such a soul I hear here. Unique and rare and precious. You.
This is terrific, Julie: I like the break before the last stanza, and the setup with "expansive arm gestures" and the sad sadness of that last line, which captures the emotion of the poem.
This is piercing right through, beautiful poem, Julie, you are beautiful