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Joli's Journal


Joli's Journal

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8 entries this month
 

Reading "Base"

04:49 Jun 29 2008
Times Read: 899


An old friend asked me to record "Base" so that he could hear the cadence. I have a voice that is often helpful to me in recording, but not this time. After a dozen frustrating attempts, Irony gave me some advice...here is the result:











COMMENTS

-



Irony
Irony
04:59 Jun 29 2008

That turned out so well:) It is a stunning poem and your reading just emphasises that:)





Ockham
Ockham
05:38 Jun 29 2008

This literally exudes power, fear, and exhaustion. I would say I love it, but after a bit of thought, 'love' isn't the right word; In this I hear you in a position I never want to imagine you in, and that echoes in the soul. It is the most powerful thing I have heard come from you, and amazingly emotive. :)





Oceanne
Oceanne
06:33 Jun 29 2008

I find no words to describe.Once again,I am left speechless.





BLOODLIFE
BLOODLIFE
10:01 Jun 29 2008

Well, that worked.... in a very big way.





Sinora
Sinora
11:19 Jun 29 2008

I enjoyed that x





Vampirewitch39
Vampirewitch39
14:49 Jun 29 2008

Reading the poem you do not understand just how wonderful it is. When I hear your voice reading/emotions in the words... it's stunning. :)





birra
birra
15:19 Jul 03 2008

That was awesome. Truly awesome.



And I'll refrain from the dissertation on how many of our most primal emotions elicit the same physical responses, even if the emotions themselves are very dissimilar...



...yeah...





 

Base

20:30 Jun 26 2008
Times Read: 990





I have been here before.

I am terrified

And my feet are bare.

There is no light

And the darkness has weight.

I can feel it, heavy against me

Like a stranger who has fainted

And I struggle to bear up both the darkness

And myself.

I imagine the darkness testing my weak seams,

Trying to get inside.

I imagine that it presses into my ears,

My nose, mouth, eyes.

Violating me, an unwelcome lover

Blanketing any light inside of me,

Like ancient dust.

There is no sound.

The effort of listening

Has exhausted me.

There is a scent,

The only sensory clue

I am allowed.

It is more than enough.

I do not recognize this scent.

I cannot give it a name.

But my body knows it,

Like it knows the feel of the floor

Beneath my bare feet,

A texture that makes me clench my teeth

In the dark.

Makes me want to be small

And nothing, a gift I am teased with

And denied,

Like a game designed by a bully

Whose genius lay only within his craft.

Nothing does not exist here

Where darkness faints and rapes.

I am a mare tied to a tree in a lightning storm,

Flared nostrils and a need to run.

I am impotence charged with electric fear.

But there is no concept that I will escape.

I will not be saved.

Somewhere, shame registers

And I am surprised that it remains.

A warm stream trickles soundlessly

To the floor, under my bare feet

And my trembling threatens to shake me apart.

It comes.


COMMENTS

-



Irony
Irony
21:05 Jun 26 2008

Holy shit... I am nearly in tears, you have captured so much there. My breath actually caught in my throat.





Ockham
Ockham
21:29 Jun 26 2008

It's hard to find ways to compliment your writing without repeating myself these days; an act I abhor. I love this, though. As always, I am very glad to know you and proud to be privileged enough to read your work.





grampae
grampae
22:31 Jun 26 2008

This is amazing, it created imagery of fear, and the unknown.

I definitely felt this part:



"I am impotence charged with electric fear.

But there is no concept that I will escape."



wonderful as always!





Dragonrouge
Dragonrouge
01:17 Jun 27 2008

A careful graduation of effects that is common only at the masters of sensibility and knowledge!

I don`t know wht to do: to be happy pr o be compassionate or to cry!

But suddenly I understand.I could be both the darkness and the fear....

so i am frightened and

... I`m beginning to see...





birra
birra
02:06 Jun 27 2008

Impressive. a very different feeling than most of what you write.



But as always, conveyed in metaphorical perfection.





placidchaos
placidchaos
04:27 Jun 27 2008

Your writing is always an experience for me and I find that anything I can say to describe that experience is eclipsed by the words you used to create it, so just let me say that it is amazing.





 

Conveyances (audio)

03:09 Jun 23 2008
Times Read: 1,113


My read-through of "Conveyances." Click the link below to hear.

Conveyances

COMMENTS

-



Irony
Irony
03:41 Jun 23 2008

This is staying on my desktop to be listened to often. I love hearing you read your work:)





birra
birra
05:17 Jun 23 2008

Hearing you read your work... the inflection and rhythm... to hear it as you hear it in your head... especially such an empassioned poem.



Breathtaking.





Sinora
Sinora
06:27 Jun 23 2008

Great stuff





BLOODLIFE
BLOODLIFE
08:12 Jun 23 2008

I so never read it the same way you meant it to be heard. You improve on perfection.





captainglobehead
captainglobehead
13:32 Jun 23 2008

Your writing and oratory never fail to impress.



I will re-visit this one often.





Ockham
Ockham
17:23 Jun 23 2008

I love hearing you read, so very, very much.





Ockham
Ockham
21:07 Jun 23 2008

I thinc i r alerjik 2 stewpud, evri tym i entar irc i gets da snifflz. :(





Vampirewitch39
Vampirewitch39
23:40 Jun 23 2008

I don't have a cool comment for this... other then I love to hear you read your work. And to hear you cuss. :) We want more, please.





Angelus
Angelus
23:56 Jun 23 2008

**Grins**



I adore the cadence in your reading.

And, 'yes' I agree with Vampirerwitch: I liked hearing you 'cuss'.





placidchaos
placidchaos
03:41 Jun 26 2008

The best I can say is that it's entrancing. I'm so glad that I was finally able to listen to it.





 

Conveyances

19:55 Jun 22 2008
Times Read: 1,201





Must I love you tomorrow

When I love you today?

Stop eyeing my measure,

The kilos of myself

Stored on your shelf

For a tomorrow that dreams

Only fitfully of itself.

Love the unpreserved me

And quite frankly,

Fuck your crisper drawer.

Fuck your paranoid need to keep me.

Experience my goddamned presence

Here, loving your eyes

And the way you move your hands

With elegance

With promise.

I’m a declarative sentence you need to yell

At the top of your lungs to hold me still.

I want. I want with the flaws of now.

Yesterday is too close already.

Kiss my mouth,

Dirty mouth for a Christian girl.

Kiss me into myself, where I stand

Now.

COMMENTS

-



Irony
Irony
19:59 Jun 22 2008

This one conveys so much emotion and strength. I think it is perhaps one of my favourites:) I keep getting drawn back to the line "Fuck your crisper drawer." It is almost like a written slap to the face, a call to pay attention.





Ockham
Ockham
20:05 Jun 22 2008

I am not sure exactly what I think of this one. It is powerful, certainly. It is exceptionally well written, as are all your works. It challenges me to understand the emotion it conveys, and I am not certain that I can identify with the feeling you have imbued it with. I feel the failing is with my own emotional response though, my all or nothing/never or forever approach to friendships and love, which leaves temporary dalliances as a foreign concept.





Sinora
Sinora
20:15 Jun 22 2008

Yay the crisper drawer did it for me...great stuff.





Joli
Joli
20:17 Jun 22 2008

Just an attempt at a carpe diem of my very own.



And a question for you: Even if you don't agree with a piece of writing...can it still have merit? If only just in the emotion? Can my dalliance still be powerful when read even as you reject it as a personal construct for yourself?





Ockham
Ockham
20:21 Jun 22 2008

Of course it can, and is! As I said, it challenges me, I've *thought* about this one a lot more to figure out exactly how it is it makes me feel. That alone makes it a worthy piece of art. The fact that I don't identify with it is not a reflection of your work, but more a facet of myself that I had not truly thought about before reading this.





Joli
Joli
20:28 Jun 22 2008

I didn't mean to suggest that I felt criticized. I ask to invite discourse on something that interests me. A comment I get frequently, and my most hated comment is: "I don't get it."



I guess I don't see myself as a cryptic writer. I write for few reasons...to paint pictures in your head and to make you have an emotional response to words used sparingly and focused sharply.



Do I sometimes have a meaning below the meaning? Yes. But reading it at the surface level should always paint a picture and/or give you a feeling if I've done my job. Yours will differ from the next reader because I want you to provide at least half of the experience. That you have makes me happy, even in cases where a piece isn't liked so much or is disliked outright.





Ockham
Ockham
20:35 Jun 22 2008

It paints a picture for me, the surface meaning is clear and precise. It is the emotional response below that that gave me pause and forced me to think.



("that that". God damnit, English. Why must we be this way?)





Joli
Joli
20:36 Jun 22 2008

Any and all thoughts on the subject welcome.





faeriemoon
faeriemoon
20:51 Jun 22 2008

Well done as always. :)



It brings to me a range of emotion. An ebb and flow with a well place crescendo. What I hear is, "Look at me, the me of now. Don't look beyond or behind. Be with me in THIS moment."



I am addicted and inspired by your work. Thank you for sharing.





BLOODLIFE
BLOODLIFE
21:02 Jun 22 2008

You always write beautifully, I am biased towards your style but I will try to stay a little objective.

I would agree with Ockham pertaining to merit. I believe it works for most things, when you have respect for someones ideals irrespective if you agree or not on the subject it will always have merit.

As for it being powerful, if people don't agree they will just call you a power hungry nut, so 'yes' it's still powerful.






birra
birra
23:21 Jun 22 2008

And my little'ol comment will be lost at the bottom of the chain...



...but I'm glad I could inspire you a bit for this. How often is it one word that strikes our fancy and helps to give birth to art. Something as wonderful as your creation.



I fear to assume, but in this case, I think... I get it.





DuCroix
DuCroix
01:52 Jun 23 2008

words escape even the most cunning of us.





Angelus
Angelus
23:52 Jun 23 2008

..desire, frustration & lust, were 'conveyed' to me.

Yet, to join the debate, I so love your writing, even if I don't always get your picture.





Dragonrouge
Dragonrouge
17:02 Jun 26 2008

A great one!

Damn I forgot to close the water and my gbath is a mess now!



I guess this poem influenced my neighbours too...

;))



I love the end!





Oceanne
Oceanne
21:04 Jun 26 2008

I do believe this is one of my very favorites.





 

Slip Out Sideways

23:31 Jun 21 2008
Times Read: 1,246





You forget my name on the exhale

And you are not the words that I love.

No, you are the stir,

The punctuation mark

In every sentence I ever write.

You are the ellipses,

The pauses and exclamations

Of a day gone beautifully wrong.

You are the most random person I know

And I slip past the cooler

To scoop handfuls of you instead,

Gulping, because you are not to be savored.

I love you in the spaces between words

And you love me

Because I don’t care to reside in you

Or to press my hands against your walls.

I live in the smile I always paint

Over the scars on your face.

I live in the second you think,

“How did I let her get away?”

Your profile will hold me a while.

You’ll forget my name

And we’ll meet again in an epic tale.

I’ll be your ink, the bite and flow

You, my page, the sand and snow.

COMMENTS

-



Irony
Irony
23:41 Jun 21 2008

I love this, it perfectly captures the subject:) Thank you for sharing your poetry, I don't think I say that enough.





Sinora
Sinora
23:48 Jun 21 2008

Nice





LIFEBLOOD
LIFEBLOOD
23:54 Jun 21 2008

I wish I had an ounce of what inspires you.





BLOODLIFE
BLOODLIFE
00:04 Jun 22 2008

Hey Lifeblood ... even a fraction of that.





Joli
Joli
00:19 Jun 22 2008

Personality fracture complete





birra
birra
23:23 Jun 22 2008

*sigh*





Dragonrouge
Dragonrouge
17:07 Jun 26 2008

Another great one!!??

Hey, post a damn bad poem too, or I`ll think you are torturing Baudelaire that came back from the dead!






 

Cracked

22:24 Jun 16 2008
Times Read: 1,374





I walked into the grief

Of a man on the street,

Raw and bare,

Laid out in the afternoon sun.

An indecency,

There and bare before us all.

I looked to the people walking by

Who looked to me,

All of us lost in a helpless dance

Of “What should we do now?”

I had never seen a man weep so openly.

So deeply.

Wracked by gulps of air,

The poison he did not want,

He knelt in the street,

No longer a street,

Lost to us all,

Dressed like us all.

He cried in the street,

A cell phone far-flung

Lay open still,

A thing of revulsion

Cast away

Here in the middle of day.

He screamed in the street,

Exposed and frightening

In the clutch of his pain

Right in the middle of day.

So raw. So true. So real.

Far too real.

His hands and arms

Were held stiffly forward,

As though he might touch

The unreachable source of his ache.

We walked away,

Leaving him to the street

Leaving him to weep.

We walked away

With unease and his grief,

Cell phones heavy in hand,

Just silent harbingers,

Keeping our lies at bay,

Our afternoon truths

A tone away.


“Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything,

That’s how the light gets in.”




Credits:

*This was inspired by "Lost At E Minor"

**Ending is Leonard Cohen's chorus from "Anthem."

COMMENTS

-



Beastt17
Beastt17
20:45 Jun 17 2008

You never fail to blow me completely away. This one tightened my gut, stopped my breathing and put me on the edge of my seat like one of the few good horror movies.



Such a gorgeous ache in the reading.





Joli
Joli
21:33 Jun 17 2008

You'll never know how appreciated that was. I have been struggling with whether or not this one sucked. Thank you for your always welcome comment, critique, and encouragement.





Irony
Irony
01:34 Jun 18 2008

The gut tightening breath stealing feeling this poem gave me has already been said so eloquently by beastt. I think this is probably the most powerful poem I have ever seen you write. I feel this mans pain and grief intimately. Your words punch those emotions right through my chest and into my heart. Don't you dare for one moment think that this poem sucks. It knocks me off my feet. It is wonderful!





birra
birra
03:12 Jun 18 2008

I do believe I have run out of positive descriptors and unique good things to say about your art.



This one... is special. It took me a couple times through to get the feel for it, and I'm sure in your heart, and how you hear it in your mind, you feel it in a different way than I do.



The thing I love most about this is, it is a bit to the left of your usual writing. You're not afraid to take risks, to try something new, to go somewhere you haven't gone before.



That is such a refreshing quality, and one I rarely find in the people I meet.



This isn't just another wonderfuly written poem - this is another piece of you that you have shared with all of us.





Beastt17
Beastt17
08:41 Jun 18 2008

She (you, Joli), has range for certain. Were I ever able to approach her ability with words, I know I'd cower in one safe corner, afraid to move from an area of comfort. Joli, you stretch and we gasp. You shift footing and we hold our breath. You tilt your head 93° to the horizon and you leave us almost too stunned to speak.



They're words: just words. And you wield them like a Samurai, cutting the candle's flame or carving a gaping wound, to watch our hearts fall from our chest.





Ockham
Ockham
19:54 Jun 18 2008

I'm just going to point you at this the next time you are worried that you've written something that sucks. You have never written anything that I have not thoroughly enjoyed, and while self-criticism is what grinds the edge of talent, your talent is already sharp enough to slice the soul. Any sharper, and I might bleed out just from reading.





Joli
Joli
20:00 Jun 18 2008

I'm speechless. No writer ever had such encouragement. Thank you for taking your valuable time to let me know that you like my work.





Ockham
Ockham
20:06 Jun 18 2008

I'd like to point out that that looked a lot like speech to me, young lady.



Luv u newayz, bb. ;)





Joli
Joli
20:11 Jun 18 2008

Got me! :)





placidchaos
placidchaos
21:27 Jun 18 2008

So tell me, when do you plan to publish a book so that I can buy it? ;)





Oceanne
Oceanne
16:55 Jun 22 2008

I am always awed and silenced when I leave your journal Joli.Simply amazing.





 

Islands and Miles

03:55 Jun 16 2008
Times Read: 1,418





Your beautiful lips

Forming words,

Words that blanket me

When the day nods off

And I shoplift time,

Never enough.

I crave your words

Like banana cream pie

On a summer day.

Your perfect words

That halt and falter,

Slowing me down

To listen

Slowing me down

To truly listen.


COMMENTS

-



Irony
Irony
04:15 Jun 16 2008

I love these words:) Remind me to ask you what banana cream pie is sometime. It sounds wonderful:)





birra
birra
05:12 Jun 16 2008

As your last two entries here have shown again, you are a master with the English language. I could only hope to one day be half as good as you at creating images with my words.



Some days, I wish I had a window into your mind just to try and understand how you do it...





DuCroix
DuCroix
10:02 Jun 16 2008

you did it again





STABB666
STABB666
18:25 Jun 16 2008

It is truly wonderful to hear your voice have the same meaning to myself.





Vespers
Vespers
22:18 Jun 18 2008

What I love about this, and what to me makes this an original perspective of a very human condition/inspiration for poetry are these two sections:



And I shoplift time,

Never enough.



I crave your words

Like banana cream pie

On a summer day.



You're good, Joli. Really, really good. This is gorgeous, inspiring writing, as is all of your writing that I've been lucky enough to read.



Now the question is, when are you going to publish a chapbook of your poetry and or short stories? That is, of course, if you haven't already. Of course, if you have, then how do I find it?






Dragonrouge
Dragonrouge
17:13 Jun 26 2008

Your

forming

words

when the day

and I

never

crave

like

on

your perfect

halt

slowing

to listen

slowing

to truth





Hey however I `d like to read them, your poems just ... blanket me!






 

Cistern Girl

21:24 Jun 10 2008
Times Read: 1,522




Barefoot walking halfway up the levee,

I am slanted and above the road,

The grass fresh-mown between my toes.

Oyster shell drives crunch exactly right

When an old ford crawls onto the road

Following the ferry schedule -

The ferry schedule, more important than clocks.

Trolling nets dry in the sun,

So like angel wings, which bring the shrimpers home.

A dog named Ringtail doesn’t come when he’s called

The Cajun “r” trilled long on a warm tongue.

A little brown girl in hand me down clothes

Picks at her scabbed-over knees

And looks away from the baby,

Looks toward the road,

Looks to the south,

Looks to far-off clouds rolling in,

Looks bored.

I am Cistern Girl

Smelling the river

Smelling my lover

My beloved river

Where I want my ashes to mingle with yours.

I am Cistern Girl

Collecting every drop of sky

Tasting the world unfiltered,

Splashing Pointe ala Hache dirt from my toes,

Tap wide open, soaking the earth

With rain that I have kissed,

With rain that smells like my hair,

With the impossible truth of a snow egret.

A snow egret in my ditch

Tugging at my soul,

Tugging at a crawfish.

A bird of snow in the mud of my ditch

In my front yard ditch, considering me,

Cistern Girl, barefoot in the grass.

Grass on my feet like rain,

Like truth.

Rain upon my hair

Rain that smells like a daydream

For splashing across the toes,

Cool and honest across my toes.

COMMENTS

-



BLOODLIFE
BLOODLIFE
21:31 Jun 10 2008

I'm reading that to a glass of red wine ... it so works.





Vespers
Vespers
21:32 Jun 10 2008

My five days down south will never be enough to grasp the magic that must fill your world. I yearn to know these words, their meanings and taste, but my five days could never be enough.



It's like trying to catch the feel of feathers as they take to the sky when all you have are hands.






Oceanne
Oceanne
21:37 Jun 10 2008

I can see it all so clearly now..and the smell of fresh,cleansing rain.



Beautiful.





captainglobehead
captainglobehead
03:00 Jun 11 2008

OK, I have to say I love the name "Cistern Girl".





Irony
Irony
04:12 Jun 11 2008

Beautiful.





ThothLestat
ThothLestat
16:23 Jun 11 2008

*golf clap*





DuCroix
DuCroix
02:11 Jun 14 2008

wow, it has been a long time since something rendered me speechless for 5 minutes








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