you said I was just like you

you said you could see me thru

you said I could be happy too

And I believed you

you were the soldier at my back

just us against the world, as a matter of fact

look what you left me with, this impossible dream!

just thinking about you makes me want to scream!

take responsibility

for the vision you put in me

you made it a winnable fight

theres no place in this world for me

my own friends hate me

and I half think they're right

so ask me for help

while you're calling me sell out, hey!

I'll be right there for you

cuz I stay true, ok

so maybe Im obsolete in this WHITE world

don't think its the right world

can't take the hood out this fight girl

so SCREAM!

listen, listen

to what my eyes are calling out

a frozen moment

of my falling out

Im just a soldier

5 hours from my war

in a place where peeps

dont even get what Im fightin for

all I dreamt of was an ally

impossible, more than rare

til you made it my life

and now I can't get back there...

Silent (inspired by Howl by Alen Ginsberg)

I saw the madness destroyed by the best minds of my generation, calmly motorized drones,

wrapping themselves in brand name platitutes and clothing anything that would require *work*,

uneducated graduates playing with fate of the universe to ignore the implications of their wiis: we are losing,

who choke upon the sand around their ears and cling to the wagon as it steers off the road into the wilderness of baren human intellect,

who hold the lie of art above the moon while whitiling NASA away in exchange for imitation nobels for investigating toothpaste: un-acknowelded rewards for ignoring possibility and metaphore,

who cower in mediocracy rather than risk the verge of break through,

who answer to their 99 cent ringtones describing the proper way to objectify one's body in the lost beauty of fluid sexuality rather than to the call of destiny,

who expect answers to their incesant buzzings as a slave to the social order of obsessive time wasting even when true spirit rejects the notion dishonored by their lack of faith in desires to hear their empty voice... a desire murdered by percieved monopolies on thinning time,

who follow their schedules and submit their paperwork in perfect syncrynation with their chronometers a simple system of exchange sterile in prevention of personal poverty and the insane anger that brought revolution,

who hold their beating hearts over the stuff of life insufferable childern ordered to put their seatbelts on for their own breeded stupidity to continue,

who would deny lips against the lips of true loves, wedding vows, procreation through scientifically assisted means, on account of genitalia and numbers! for what? to retrain outdated definitions of marriage? definitions that never claimed to be about love? shall we return to political arrangements and monetary exchanges for people like cattle?

who gladly surgically alter their bodies in the name of conventional beauty, but would deny that same right to those altering to fit their true mind's self if it fell outside the narrow bounds of normalcy,

who will complain of the nation's problems with an apathetic shrug, but not a vote,

who note with suprise and distain that the few starving hysrterical nakeds are angry! their legacy is forgotten! but where is the outrage? where are the cries against Veitnam as we enter into its sequel! while there are more military than collage recruiters in high schools and half the population can't point out their destination on an unmarked map!

Silent sirens screeching
Forewarned futuristic forgeries
And fear
Crying crimson in cowardice
Dreams dented desperate
And dying
Tarnished in tainted terror
Married to meloncholy memories
And mastered
Wonder of wished wildness
Freedom of frivolous fits
And fascinated
Beckoned by beautiful blues
Random to reverbs of roughness

And running...

3:27 am. I am snapped awake by a noise from outside my room.
I silently beg the powers that be that my dad isn’t waking up. Then I remember
this is a college dorm room. I’m safe… for the moment.

When I woke up an hour ago I went through all my routines: attempting
to write poetry, do calisthenics, even my homework if it would exhaust me
enough to sleep soundly, but all attempts have failed. I blame my restless
nights on memories that I occasionally dream and get stuck repeating over and
over again. But I’m not thinking about those dreams tonight.

The first incarnations of the other dream began when I was
eight. They were good dreams then, though. It was so easy to fool myself. All I
had to do was pretend I was the girl in the interaction after I woke up. Even
now that I can’t hide from the fact that I wasn’t the girl those dreams aren’t
so bad. It’s just easier to imagine, living vicariously through a guy. I have
dreams with two girls too. That’s ok. Everyone has a sexuality, they can’t help
it, it’s normal. It’s ok.

But the dreams get stranger. I used to think I just watched
too much Ramna 1/2, with my friends joking, “Instant sex change, just add
water.” But somewhere I know that the dreams started before I ever watched that
anime.  Don’t get me wrong, that’s ok
too. I have a couple friends who used to be men or used to be women. Whatever,
that would be ok.

But there are no nice words like gay or transgender for the
dreams I have. I used to make up words for what I was feeling before I told
Monica Dorenzo that her brain was the size of a lepton in the 5^th
grade. She told a teacher that I called her a lesbian and I got yelled at.
Guess I was right about her brain. But I decided the old labels had enough
problems with out me making up new ones.

So I bury my head under the pillow, afraid to wonder what I am. I’m always hoping I can block
out the dreams for one more day… I hate the middle of the night.

P.S. I found out there is a name for it. So its about time to come out. I am gender queer. That means that sometimes I feel female, but just as often I feel male. No matter what gender I physically am I will be unhappy some of the time. But I think now that I am accepting and facing what I am and realizing that its no more "not ok" than trangendered or gay I can feel good all of the time with the acceptance of my friends and lots of cross dressing tee hee! Love ya'll, thanks for supporting me. Esp. ****! Peace.

~J

Note: this involves shit that went down a LONG time ago. No worries...

I can't see. There are tears in my eyes. Everything else is grey.

Im pulled from beyond time and space into a moment.

Where am I? Im being pulled some place... down a hallway... Who are these people? Where are they taking me? Wait, I know. They are my friends, I guess. They are taking me to the office, to Mr. Foster, the counseleur.

Today I am going to kill myself.

Mr. Foster asks me why. I can't tell him. He'd never understand. No way, absolutely not, it would just make things worse. Things cant get worse. I could... try. Can't hurt.

I try to think of something to say. The closest I can come up with blurts out of my mouth, a mile a minute. "Im always in trouble. I dont even do anything, but Im always in trouble-"

He cuts me off. "I think there is proabably a reason you get in trouble sometimes."

"No, not sometimes. And I don't do anything!" I want to say more, but he looks frustrated, impatient. I pause. They always tell you to tell. From the time I was five I knew I was supposed to tell because my teachers would go on and on about how importatn it is. They never seemed to think that in order for me to tell they might need to stop talking for a few minutes and listen.

"Ok," he sighes. "Give me an example."

This is hard. What is safe? It is all secret, why can't I just spit everything out? But there are no words. "Well..." I begin, grasping for the one safe event. The only witnessed event, even if only by the girl next door. "I got in trouble for just being in the living room. I didn't do anything. If he had told me not to be in there I wouldve gone somewhere else. But I got punished for just bein there-"

"Im sure there was a reason." Cutting me off again, he presses. Obviously I am some dumb teen throwing a hissy fit for attention. Nothing I say would convince him otherwise.

"Whatever."

I say no more. The moment fades. Im tossing and turning in my grave. I wonder Mr. Foster do you think of me? Do you think of how many other mes you let go under your nose? How many lives you could have saved? How many feeble cries for help you ignored? DO YOU HEAR ME NOW THAT I'M HAUNTING YOU?!

Libby Ciafardoni is dead. She was a victim of child abuse. She tried to kill herself. And thank the Goddess that shes out of her misery.

My past is dead and Im leavign her behind... But she still haunts me at night. Does she haunt you?

There are words trapped along my lips
Residing in my fingertips
They refuse to leave my mouth and pen
When will I be free again?

O draconian devil
O lame saint
O captain, my elusive captain
What cag'ed planet is this?
What incomprehensible beings?
Truth lies in sparks 'tween blade and stone
E'en as they disapate the neck correctly meets my point
Held fast at flesh
And, objective rectified,
I disintegrate
Shadows grasp upon my back
And I flee back into pure reality
Her fingers, hands, arms, reach, envelope
Wholeness encircles my heart
Warm breath is home
But no! I am sand slipping thru fingers
Mem'ries crossed by time and space
Barriers unknown
Gasping in pasionless insignificance
I find myself in the flase world
O to understand the lies
O to withstand reality
O impure life

Blank page
Oil pastel poised
Ready
And snapped in two
Shall I hibernate again?
Over one missing validation?
Shall I allow anger
To drive me to self destruction
In one vile blast
Or waste away running from it?
I must find the turning tide again
With evening's empire slipping away
And the glass untouchable
In the lovely, dark, deep woods
With no path in sight
What direction can I go?

And ah, the cycle goes again
A perfect circle no doubt
I wonder if theres any escaping
What I swear Im not about
From deviant diva
To innocent flee-a
Only my lies speak true
Fog beyond windshield
Blood weapon I wield
Only one leads me to you

Warning: some real life details ahead. The jury is out on whether or not this contains anything worth actually reading or if Im just whining about my life. Sorry if its the later, I try not to do it often...

Dreams, dreams, dreams. Im dreaming about the invisible girl and shes dreaming about starbucks girl. And ****** and ***... and ***** is a cool kid. Why does that bother me? I was gonna tell her something wasnt right anyway... I mean I needed that night, she has no idea how badly, but the next day she didnt call like she said she would. And that was ok cuz I didnt call her either. And then the next day when she did call I didnt answer. My mental excuse is that sci-fi night was starting soon, but I couldve told her that. I needed more time to think. That very fact convinced me that I wasnt in this with enough of my heart. Guess I wasnt the only one. I should be glad, I wont be hurting her. Its werid. Ive been thinking alot about Dala lately. Not Dalamar, but Dala, almost thinking of them as two seperate people. I realize now that I may have had real feelings for Dala where as I always assumed that since mortally Dalamar/Dala was male I must not have had real feelings. But to me Dala was really a girl. And that changes everything. Funny to think I have to get over this all over again. This started cuz of a dream too. I had a dream that I had cancer and only had a short time to live. Fuckin realistic too cuz I went thru all the things I want to do before I die. Made arrangements for Moiraine, cut off my folks, and among other things went looking for Dalamar. Kinna freaked me out, but I dont think the dream was prophetic or anything. I think subconcuiously I really need to have some closure with Dala and thats y I dreamt up a senario where Id have to find Dalamar and find out what happened to her along with it. And so I dream of Dala and invisible girl. I know all the girls around me are wrong for me, somehow, even the one I cant quite put my finger on the problem with (maybe its just the distance? I dunno) and yet I am hating being single more everyday. What to do, what to do, what to do.....