Three Poems and Where Am I…

The world does not stop no matter how much I want off. Things just progress and get more confounded in my life. Really I guess this is for the best, however if I were able to derail for a while it would make all things easier with which to deal.


Today I slept in and the usual nightmares came into play. It became obvious in one dream that my father who is always a god figure in my dreams believes I will go to hell. The situation being the one where I am forced to live the biblical part of Revelation’s Whore of Babylon. Always nice to dwell there even in dreams. This scenario is the exact one the voices play out on me when I go into a Schizophrenic phase.


I am actually doing very well considering all the crap my conscious and unconscious are throwing at me. I read The Raven last night and that was like going home. I had not visited with that one of my favorite geniuses for a very long while. Thankfully the book was inside instead of out in the storage building where I believed it to be. Poe is such a delight even though his process of thought is often very dark. I relate to him in ways and for reasons that go deeper than words. He knew his share of despair.


Arise and Go


When all seems to hold

You mired to the ground

Realize you are not bound

But have the power bold

Within you always sound

To rise above your surround.


© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Sunday, May 15,2005


I wish I could get away for a little while. Mother and I are not getting along at all and I really do not need the negativity she heaps on me. I figure everyone regards her as a saint and me as an imposition so I lose. I love Mom, but she gives me a difficult time on the best of occasions and now is not that sort of time. She is 75 years old and I have never been good enough to live up to her expectations. She is highly critical and often abrasive. Crotchety is a good word to describe her mood most of the time.


Alex just listens from the safety of his room, and when I look in on him he gives a shrug of his broad shoulders. He says, "I’m not in on this. Ya’ll just go on and on." I wish I had his distance and standing. He has a fortunate position of being a non-combatant. I must be defensive or be lost in the assault.


I hope tomorrow goes well although I expect it to be stressful for me. I have to go by the bank and try to attend to some stuff there. I also must go by our primary care physician’s office to pick up some orders for Mom and I. I am going to try to attend to some of the bills tomorrow and make some effort to catch up some of what is so behind. I know that the creditors will be difficult to deal with, but I have the hand of being still very ill and doing the best I can to resolve things. If they are hateful they may lose big because I am not unwilling to seek legal counsel. I could very easily be deemed irresponsible for anything due to my mental state and the fact I am basically a pauper. I am still willing to do my best to live up to my responsibilities, but I will not be sent back to the hospital by abuse.


I cannot make it clear how truly fragile I am still. I am not even prepared for it myself. I look through poems I have written over the years and even though they are not really sad they bring me to tears because they express the recurrent pain that has been my life so well. I just want to put the pain in a box so that it stops ambushing me when I am not expecting it.


I go to other favorite blogs and I sit in tears over the hurt my friends are suffering. I want to help and I know all I am capable of is becoming more mired in my own mess. All of it seems so unfair to me. If I did not care I would not hurt, but caring solves nothing, it just makes me aware of my own uselessness.


This poem was written many years ago and broke me into big cascading teardrops that ran tracks down my cheeks just moments ago:


Broken Dreams


Crystal palaces

Pretty glass houses

Showed I you

In a land of dreams.


Walk softly

With gentle care

Warned I you

Among the fragile buildings.


You heard me not,

But went your own way

Oblivious of the hurt

You were causing.


Crystal palaces in ruin

Pretty glass houses laid waste

Now show I you

In a broken land of shattered dreams.


© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan


This is one of my all-time favorites of the poems I have written. It is very old:




Whisper, quiet, secrets in my ears.

Tell me stories

Which no one else can hear.


Reveal to me

The depths of your feelings;

Even the ones you always hide.


Share with me

Your dreams and aspirations;

No matter how unrealistic they may seem.


Show me

Your favorite achievements;

The things that make you proud.


Give me a chance

To share your joy and sadness;

Let me wipe away your tears.


Do not hold back,

Do not lie;

With me, there is nothing to hide.


© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

  1. #1 by Darlene on May 15, 2005 - 5:24 pm

    JoAnn…please do not get upset over the garbage on spaces. You have much more important things to concern yourself with…this other garbage is just that…garbage….Take care of you….Hugs..Darlene

  2. #2 by Zen on May 15, 2005 - 7:53 pm

    Holy Schmoly Jo Ann, those were really good! I liked the second one the best, though my tastes are kinda odd. Like DarDar said, don\’t worry about us fake people here on spaces. Our problems are our own, and for the most part they are petty and self inflicted. Worry about yourself, not us.

  3. #3 by Kenny on May 16, 2005 - 5:39 am

    Just love your poems & the way you share so unselfishly

  4. #4 by Kenny on May 21, 2005 - 1:34 am

    Hope you find something to smile about all weekendEnjoy itKenny

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