The partial hospitalization program is something very different to anything I have ever experienced before. The professionals there are very well trained and very respectful. Coming home at night and having time to live somewhat normally is advantageous. Today I saw the doctor and he seemed pleased with my progress. He left me on Geodon and the fish oil for now. He discussed another medication but I have no insurance to cover medication so if we can avoid adding more into the mix I would like to do so.

 

I am so worried about my financial situation and the fact that I stand to lose my Medicaid when I so need this program. I know that there is no way I can explain away all the chaos I caused in my finances while in grips of mania. I cannot even fathom what I was doing. A caseworker is never going to comprehend it and without understanding my benefits are blown.

 

I talked to someone who used to be a close friend of mine yesterday evening and she was very supportive. I cried a lot during our conversation because I am still hurting so much but she said that I sounded better than when she had talked to me about two weeks ago. I really don’t feel much better, but I guess I am progressing. She spoke to me about purpose which is what everybody seems to bring up whenever I say I really rather not be alive. Purpose just seems some word that is used to mock. Yet at the same time I know within that there must be purpose for me. I actually wrote about it yesterday morning, but it is mythic to me right now.

 

Here’s the poem I wrote yesterday morning:

 

Survival

 

I need a little hope

To hold me, to guide me

Faithfully on my way.

I need a little love

To lift me, to bring me

Safely through each day.

I must believe in myself

To accomplish anything

Of worth as I go along the way.

I must remember

I have purpose and reason

Or I will be lost in every day.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Monday, May 23, 2005

 

I am not having the time to visit everyone’s blogs like I used to do and I am very sorry. I am not really settled enough to accomplish much of anything right now. I am very restless and uneasy. I want to do things but I have trouble with a lot of things. Mostly I want to fix all my problems and I have no means so I feel useless. I want to do art, but subject evades me. I think depression is causing a lack of focus and loss of attention. I pace a lot and mostly want to talk to somebody, but I don’t have that many people who want to talk to me.

 

I appreciate all of you who are still reading me and leaving supportive comments. It helps to know that you care about me. Sometimes I feel so lonely, even in group I feel isolated. I know that is crazy, but I feel it. I am really warped.

 

I noticed a comment about BlogShares and wanted to point out that in the March archives there is a tutorial on that subject. I covered a lot about it that I learned as a new player. BlogShares is very similar to an old computer stock market game I played in the very early nineties and I seem to have a knack for understanding how to work with stock type games. I have some stocks that have gotten too high for trading now because I was inactive during most of April and I cannot sell them off to get rid of them which is a liability and makes my standing messed up.

 

Alex has not called so I do not know what he is thinking and I miss him terribly. He was so disgusted and angry at me when he left that I am at a loss as to whether I should call to find out how he is or not. He was saying that I just failed to live up to my potential and that I lacked motivation to accomplish anything. All understanding that I have an illness seemed to have left him. He is with his father now I guess, I really do not know. I am worried he may not come back here. I guess I deserve that, I have failed so badly now. It hurts to think he may leave when I have tried so hard to be a good mother. I guess I was not that either. I thought I was always there for him and did my best to make sure he had all he needed even though it meant going into debt. I guess I just did not do enough.

 

If I had worked maybe he would respect me, but I really have not been able to handle the stress of a job for years. I am so paranoid in public that it is hard to function even in shopping situations. I think maybe on very good days I might be capable of working, but there have not been that many very good days. I want to try to work again, but I am not so sure that even at the end of this treatment program that I am in that I can do it. On days when I hallucinate it would be very hard to function normally and that happens quite a lot. Mostly I can cope with it here at home and do something to take my mind off of it, but it is disconcerting in public situations. To avoid hallucinations totally requires so much medication that I am utterly sedated. I mostly cope with it without mentioning it much because though the voices worry me I know they are not real and I figure there is not much that can be done but ignore them. I listen to music or just engage my mind elsewhere, I cope. Right now I seem in a good phase as far as the audible hallucinations go, but it is not a sure thing it will remain that way. Stress and lack of sleep or anything really can effect my state of mind.

 

I want to be "normal", but just to function in a controlled environment is sometimes hard. I hate that I cannot do everything others believe I should, but sometimes it is well beyond me. I know I am gifted and talented but I also know I have very real limitations. If I can somehow minimize the limits maybe I can accomplish more. I want to do so, but I do not know if it is possible.

 

Right now I am just working on becoming strong enough to cope with all the disasters my manic episode caused. I have to deal with that manifestation of illness now and try to improve a little daily and avoid an outbreak in the schizophrenic symptoms. The visual hallucinations Friday evening were enough to warn that I could have something critical develop with that at this time too. My chemistry is not able to handle too much right now. I am getting stronger, but there is a lot that is not equalized.

 

Seeing What Is Real

 

I walk into the room

I see strangers

I fear their judgment

I fear not fitting in

I feel alone and odd.

 

I take a seat

I do not belong

I listen to the stories

I see the likeness

I understand.

 

I fear speaking

Tears flow

Someone notices

Tissues are passed

Connection is made.

 

I still feel different

But I speak

I offer knowledge

I explain experience

Others understand.

 

We are all strangers

Wanting to belong

Our experience unites us

We gain strength

When we share ourselves.

 

I leave the room

Having friends

I know they care

We share a bond

We are all one.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

I am trying to hang in and I guess I am actually doing a little better, but hopelessness daunts me. My situation is so beyond my control that I cannot see digging out of it.

 

I went to the aftercare program Thursday and Friday and the doctor there shifted my medicines around somewhat. On Thursday evening he wanted me to leave off the Geodon and only take the Depakote because when he saw me Thursday I was zombie-like. On Friday morning I was less stiff but I had slept almost none during the night. He then took me off the Depakote and said to take the Geodon in the evening. By Friday evening I was having visual hallucinations. I have not done that in some time. Getting the Geodon back into my system stopped that yesterday and today. I feel better than I have since being in the hospital and am mostly calm. They will evaluate me Monday to see if I need something to control mania. I do not feel myself slipping into that though.

 

I have some depression that is hanging over me but there is no wonder in that considering my situation. I received the paperwork yesterday that will seal my losing what partial Medicaid benefits I get. I unfortunately have a life insurance policy so Alex would be taken care of if I die and the cash value on the policy has grown to the point that I will lose what little benefit I have been getting. Seems like every financial demon that could rear its head is doing it at once.

 

I was talking to my Mom today and I was saying it is unbelievable that I could be so gifted, talented, and intelligent yet have absolutely nothing to show for it. I am artistic, with the ability to paint, draw, design, I can write poetry and prose that moves people, I can motivate and inspire people who are in therapeutic environments, I can teach children and adults, but I have no capacity to earn money with any of that simply because I do not know how to do so. I lack the credentials to be hired and I lack the belief in myself to market myself.

 

I know that I am a rare person, but at the same time there is little faith in my abilities. I am awash in a world where I do not know how to survive. I read the last poem I posted here to my Mom today and she said she thought it would sell. I think it would sell too, but one poem is a very little thing in a sea that is drowning me. I do not even know where to begin the process. I need something life changing now.

 

Alex has gone away with no return date. He says he cannot be around me now. I have to get positive and take action in my life. He has decided that I am able to do whatever it takes to be self-sufficient. The only thing holding me up according to him is my lack of self-respect, self-esteem, and self-confidence. His talk ended with him telling me to fuck off so I expect he may not come back home.

 

I do not know what to do now. I am supposed to attend this aftercare program and so far it seems helpful, but it is not getting my other issues solved. I need to be in several places at once.

 

Carrot

 

Out there

Just beyond my reach

Sits the prize I know

Could be mine to own.

 

I feel

The desire to make

Plain my realistic claim

But I hesitate with fear.

 

Somewhere

Within my heart

The faith resides

Yet my mind cannot believe.

 

I am

Torn apart

Because myself

Battles with my plight.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Sunday, May 22, 2005

We Forever Are

 

Varied Blooms

Exploding Stars

Examples of Creativity

Set loose by the Expanse

That Indwells the Vastness

Of Whatever we can Comprehend

That is Majestic in Our Universe.

 

We each are

Individual and Unique

Filled with Loving Spirit

Reaching out to somehow touch

What is Greater than Our Grasp

We rise above the moment and shine

Inspiring Hope when Darkness tries to Blind.

 

Our interaction

Spurs intense reaction

So that from one to another

A spark may grow into a flame

To start a fire that may eventually

Light the way from deep despair

To guide to day’s brilliant light.

 

We are not

Alone nor Strangers

We each belong one among

Another and we abide because

We know deep inside that no force

That comes against us can take the love

We hold for one another totally away.

 

We shine

With the light

That is not quenched

We glow with beauty

That does not ever die

We are the full blown

Expression of Everlasting Love.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Thursday, May 19, 2005

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:

 

Confidant

 

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

I do not like labels a lot, but I have worn some really messed up ones for years so I am accustomed to them. The other day I asked the psychiatric nurse how I would list in categories now. She would not go into labels. That made me feel even more messed up than ever. Best I can figure now I could be placed as a Schizophrenic, Bi Polar, Depressed Person with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My mania is still not under the best of control and I am sometimes so hopeless I feel there is no way life will work.

 

Alex and I were talking last night and I wish I had his fire in my veins. He is such an inspiration and he will make it where I am a failure. I am glad that I have had the chance to see him grow into what he is, I wish I had a spark of what he retains. I am so dull compared.

 

There is not much hope of my achieving the kind of success I so often envision. I still feel invincible sometimes, but I know that is some delusionary thinking on my part probably to do with my Schizophrenia. Mania is all too new to me for me to be clear on its symptoms. I am just screwy enough to be one moment sure I can still have it all and the next bewail the fact that life is totally hopeless. I wish God would just let me out of here or if not give me some sort of miracle.

 

I asked Alex’s grandparents to consider helping us. These are the people who have done next to nothing for my boy for years. They are wealthy and could easily remove some of the pressure on me at this point. I doubt they will help though, it would mean extending some charity toward me and I am at best considered somewhat less than worthy.

 

I paid the Jeep payment today and paid the insurance on it earlier this week. The credit card companies are calling non-stop already. Mostly I am just avoiding the phone because there is not much I can do right now with my limited resources. I found out I am now considered an undesirable customer at Wachovia because I had several overdrafts on my account while in my psychosis. Over thirty years of good relationship with that institution was wiped out because I did things when I was ill and out of control.

 

I honestly understand why people choose suicide when they see the kind of horror such illnesses as I have wreck on life. I have very little desire to try to recover from all the negative repercussions that are besetting me now.

 

Even the giftedness I enjoy through my creativity is not worth the pain of all that these diseases put on me. I realize that some of my brilliance is related to the malfunctions in my brain, but the cost is very high.

 

I start the intensive after-care program next Thursday, that is if I go, because right now I think I need to find some way to make money instead. My counselors and doctor seem very concerned that if I do not receive extra help I will relapse, but I am more worried about the creditors.

 

I think that blogging may not be a good thing right now. I have not much of any desirable worth to offer now and am quite negative. I do not wish to make such a poor impression among those I have come to admire as my friends. I keep thinking about the delete button every time I pass the page where it resides, but I think maybe I can just let the blog remain a bit.

 

There is not that much to share of interest and the poetic spark is dim. I think about drawing, but I have no subject and little desire. I have noticed people think I should volunteer, but I cannot give away what skills I do have when I so desperately need funds. I am not fit to be in public anyway so it is not that hard a choice.

 

I Would Give

 

I would give you

A piece of the heart

That is left inside

What is tattered

And is worn

A part of me.

 

That is not enough

To meet your needs

So I draw back

Into the deep shadow

Where I can hide

The most of me.

 

You deserve so much

More than I can ever

Give with all my limits

So I fade away

Like dew on green grass

And let you move into destiny.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Friday, May 13, 2005

At least I have not cried all through this day. I guess it is too much to hope that Oprah or Dr. Phil might hear about our plight and care enough to help though some of the stories both have taken an interest in through the years are really no more desperate or complicated than ours in truth.

 

Things still look like they are going to swallow me up, but I did manage to take Mom to her doctor today. She had a pretty bad small stroke this morning before we left the house. It immobilized her left arm and I had to help her gently work it back to motion. I know enough to try to work limbs out so that they do not begin to atrophy. When I mentioned it to the doctor he said it was probably a TIA and that I did the right thing. Both my mother’s nurse and her neurologist were very concerned when they learned that I had been hospitalized. I am so integral to her care that they worry what would happen if I can not function.

 

We ate lunch at Dairy Queen because when we went into Taco Bell they told us that they had no diet soda in the store. I decided that did not bode well and made the decision to leave. Any manager who will let the fountain run out of diet drinks probably does not keep the rest of the store in good running order either. Could have been a momentary lapse, but I did not need extra stress on account of poor service today. The foot long hot dog I had at Dairy Queen was very good. I had not eaten there in a very long time. Mom seemed to enjoy eating there too.

 

I helped Mom pick out a personal tape player at Best Buy today so she can listen to the tapes that the church brings for her without my having to hear them too. She has no idea how to work the thing so it is a project I must be involved in for her to listen, but I am used to helping her with almost everything anyway.

 

We stopped for groceries and I blew a $100 and got almost nothing. I wish I could just stop eating…

 

I have to go tomorrow to see about an intensive aftercare program, but I do not see how I can be involved as I must somehow find a job. I kinda doubt anyone will hire me… no one has wanted to do so since 1993, but I must try something. I know really that I am too sick to work right now, but life intervenes and I will try. Maybe someone will have enough heart to take in someone as needy as me now.

 

The side effects from my medication are still terrible. I have not reacted to anything so badly in many years, I hate what the Depakote is doing to me. I have gained all the weight I had lost back in the short time I have been on it and I am not eating enough to warrant the massive change. I do what I call the medication two step because it is almost impossible to stand still anywhere. I hate it when I am so apparently off myself, anyone who sees me can discern something is wrong with me. I can hardly sit still because I am fidgety. Within minutes of dosing in the evening my speech is badly slurred and I begin to drool. I hate such detrimental side effects.

 

I feel really terrible now and very hopeless, but I am trying to move forward anyway.

 

Sometimes – An Ode to My Inadequacy

 

Sometimes when I ponder

How stupid I can be, my facility

At choosing such inane possibilities

Makes me wonder how any human

Worth the name could live so clueless

An existence as is apparently mine.

 

My ingenuity at foolishness evades

The ability of my mind to comprehend

Why I would even consider that I

Could achieve a modicum of success

When I am so gifted at causing such

Huge amounts of complete confusion.

 

I can take a benign situation

Insinuate myself into it and then

Suddenly complicate the whole

So that the circumstances go so out

Of rational realm of control

That no one can rectify the havoc I reek.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

 

Mmm… guess I could still write were I of the mood to try, but that is about as useless as anything else I ever have an inclination to do. I have been made well aware for many years what a hopeless pursuit that is for me along with my art. It does not make it feel any less valuable to me when I need it, but it does nothing to pay the bills. I suppose that is why so many criticize me for the value I place on writing and art.

 

I Wish

 

Were I to have a voice

That truly influenced

The world as it is known

Particularly to me – somehow

I would wipe away the tears

So many faces hide in shadows

And make smiles brighten the deep

Darkness that dogs so many a life.

 

I would find a way to delight

Those who need just a moment

Of celebration to change a dismal day

And bring forth the hope to face the pallor

That infects their dissatisfactory lives

I would tempt them to play again

Even though the risks seem so great

They almost desert the whole of the game.

 

I would create a dream

Worthy enough to follow

And sell it for a reasonable price

That no one would find themselves

Unable to afford – and we all working

Together would change the world

Into a dream where peace and prosperity

Could forever live and abide.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

 

Hurts to be a dreamer… I finally did manage to make myself cry. Maybe such poetry as that last is too much for such a broken and hopeless heart as mine today.

 

Sniffles,

Jo Ann

I have to introduce this poem that I am about to present to you as a very old one from the box that was recently found. It dates back to the early eighties. You will recognize even then I was becoming disillusioned with the political machine and well on my way toward being a liberal rebel. I use some illusions and metaphors I still feel very appropriate after so many years. It does give a taste of how I use longer forms and my pastoral speech background. I have attended so many sermons I can quite out preach the best of them when I am in that mode. Hope you enjoy!

 

Amy Uss : Chairlady of Club Blue –

Acceptance Speech

 

People, I am so glad to be here,

Honored that you all elected me

To stand here as your representative;

Allowed now to look out

Seeing things as things truly are.

Noticing each restless movement

And the deep creased frowns

Permanent on all your faces;

The people who have succeeded

To the point of no financial worry…

Still you each have questions

About why things are as things are.

 

The room is hazed with cigarette smoke

Most breath reeks of alcohol.

 

The darkness holds dark fingers against the window

The cold darkness touches the glass with its breath;

Pushed its hand into the deepest shadows

Awed by the dirt and garbage,

Paused a moment by a walking skeleton –

Slipped by a too still body, ran from an alley,

And seeing the lighted meeting room

Hastened to press its nose against the window.

 

Let me now say that indeed

There exists yet time to improve

The circumstances of the starving;

There are means, there are means

To end the wars, those present and future

There are means to repair the environment

And means to continue to destroy

Blithely uncaring of the costs;

Means that you and means that I

Can employ to better the plight,

And time for indecision to waste

Before we move toward new vision.

 

The room is hazed with cigarette smoke

Most breath reeks of alcohol.

 

Let me now say that indeed

There exists yet time to fear

That our efforts may blunder

Under the supervision of regulation –

(Some will say : "It was too late, anyway!")

But there are means, sure there are means

To put everything on track, to get the ball rolling –

(Some will say : "It was not organized well!")

Do we dare

So court failure?

There exists yet time enough

To decide to give up without a try.

 

And I have know the decision, known by faces –

The gaze of each fixed without focus,

And when I posed a question, tossing it out,

I am even less noticed standing here,

Like an advertised display

The smoke and alcohol have duty done.

There are means, there are means.

 

And I have known the inattentiveness, known always

The hopelessness of attempting to arouse

(But in my dreams I could manage it)

Fervent ardor toward the cause

Of improving all conditions of life

There is no interest, or real de sire.

So why go on?

There are means, there are means.

 

Dare I tell you?

Yes, I have stood in darkened streets

And observed the destitute derelicts scavenging

Through garbage in haste, eating coffee grounds

And banana rinds…

 

I should have been born rich enough

To provide some aid to such as these

 

And clothes, shelter, food, so nice!

Spoiled by it in abundance,

For granted… all of it… is taken;

Even complaining that things should be better.

Should I hint the repast here

Would have been better spent on poor street dwellers?

A flurry of choice criticism, that would get me,

Though I would not really give a darn

(Words can never hurt me) at all.

I am no saint – and this is very true;

I have seen days my circumstances were more stable,

And I have felt the Shadow touch my sleeve, but pass on,

In honesty I was quaking with terror.

 

Would you people with your solemn visages,

Give me, if I screamed, more of your attention,

Or am I, only talking to thin air and darkness,

There are means, sure, there are means,

To prize you up from your comfort,

To force you to some positive action,

To start the ball rolling,

To shout : "We can overcome our past mistakes,

Change this our present, mold our future" –

But I admit not one of you,

Noticing would say more than : "That is

Just too much, too much to hope for."

 

Let me now say that indeed

There exists yet time to teach

The illiterate graduates and working folk to read,

So that their lives, with knowledge, may be

Greatly enriched and enlivened –

The effects are impossible to predict!

But as if a new frontier thrown open before us:

We must realize the potential

Of provision, making it possible

And turning it into actuality:

There are means, there are means…

Let’s make it happen, now.

 

No! I am not Moses, nor was I trying to appear so;

I am a concerned citizen, one who will try

To lend a hand, to aid a enterprise,

Advise a leader; with consul good, passing wise,

Courteous, eager to be helpful,

Gentle, careful, and easy-going;

Full of ambition, but a trifle shy;

Indeed, clownish, almost silly –

Almost, at times, the Worst.

 

The room is hazed with cigarette smoke

Most breath reeks of alcohol.

 

My voice grows tired, do I dare step down?

I shall go home, put on overalls, and write

Me a pleasing poem.

I have found that most relaxing.

 

I do not think these people would understand it.

 

I have felt a poem build up like a wave, swell,

Growing stronger with roaring intensity

Until it broke forth onto a blank page.

 

We have spent so long a time in this room

Though there are means, sure there are means,

Nothing have we accomplished, and probably – We will not!

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Belief in Love

 

Everyone is running around these days

Giving love a bad name.

Some people have gotten shallow,

Reasoning the institution is to blame.

 

Do not believe the lies.

True love still exists;

Only it takes effort to make it last

Amidst so much delusion and pain.

 

Love shines out strong and bright

For those who in the darkness look for its light;

Giving voice to their feelings

Letting love show through their daily lives.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan 

First of all I am still trying to solve the problem of trying to set Photoshop as the default program to open images in. If anyone has any ideas on this I would much appreciate a heads up. I really want this capability and I have already tried documents and settings but that does not work. I cannot find the proper help file. Sure this is built in somewhere, just am not finding where. I am wondering if I have to remove the old program. That is my next step if I don’t get some help.

 

Next a few very short old poems. These show some of my twisted sense of humor.

 

A Void

 

All logical equations

No longer come

To satisfactory conclusion,

All equate to null sets.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

Always Somethin’

 

Somehow it always happens

When things are going great

Some shot of ill fortune

Comes along by fate.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

Coffee

 

Murky water

with an awful taste,

but it is better

than nothing to drink.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

Incidentally the reason I am still so happy is that I thought that Jeff had thrown away all these old poems to spite me. Now I have them all and it is incredible. You may hear this many times in the future. I wish I could tell the SOB that I found them all. It might make him intensely angry, but he has not contacted me in several months and I have vowed not to call him anymore. I wrote about my reasons for that decision a long while ago. In archives if you want to know more about the situation. He blew me off in the very last email he sent, said "Good-Bye", to me, and he knows this; if you ever, ever say "Good-Bye" it means things are irrevocably over. If you all will do me the favor never say that particular word unless you never mean to interact with me again. I don’t use the word, I say "bye" instead. Just a heads up for future reference.

 

On to a few longer poems that come from the oldest collection:

 

Against Reality

 

Warm and close

Hold me here

But do not ask

Too much of me.

 

I can only

Give a portion

Of what I am

Because of this reality.

 

Were I free

To give you

What you desire

It would change us for eternity.

 

That is too much

For me to touch

Right now, because I am

Caught in old insecurities.

 

Perhaps, one day

I will break the bounds

And live as I wish

But fear holds me aground.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

A Time

 

Give me just

An hour,

One more hour,

To hold you.

 

Give me just

A moment,

A solitary moment,

To look into your eyes.

 

Give me just

A while,

A little while,

To love you.

 

Give me just

A chance,

One slim chance,

To make you mine.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

This next poem made me think of the one who calls herself Grounded Butterfly. If you will tell her to come read it when you see her I would appreciate that very much. So this is kinda a dedication. I cannot quite remember where I last saw her or I would tell her to come look myself:

 

Butterfly

 

Gentle butterfly

Air light and soft,

Bright picture

Against a colorful backdrop.

 

Flighty butterfly

A flash of life,

Brilliant passing

Against a motionless background.

 

Quiet butterfly

Mute hush and silent,

Beautiful mime

Against a world of noise.

 

Graceful butterfly

A fearless dancer,

Brave poise

Against a world of chaos.

 

Bright, brilliant,

Beautiful, brave,

Yet so short-lived

Butterfly.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

Lots of stuff I am still working on. Please be patient. This is all the typing I can do right now, so I will see you later.

 

All Smiles,

Jo Ann