julie-anne-lail
American
I am a married multi-tasker, working 3 jobs and a military personnel to boot. I was a creative writing major at Gardner-Webb University and enjoyed reading my work at Open Mic Night at the local coffee shop with my fellow poets. Now i wait for inspiration. I have been writing since i can remember. My writing classes are the most challenging and influential to my work. I like honest feedback and constructive criticism.
Electrified inspiration draws me to my seat.
My mind races hundreds of miles per hour.
Ideas blossom in my mind.
When the webpage finally loads?
Nothing.
Blank.
No ideas, no inspiration, only a trickster,
dancing away boastfully with all my ideas.
****
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
How can we be the only ones in the world with a weakness.
Can you see our sickness?
This yellow, cancerous flame- eating me away.
How do i know you can stop this?
Would your mind change if i said
I made it this way?
Now i fear there won't be another day.
Where should i go?
Along this dusty, winding road
with everyone else who is alone.
Once in awhile you'll see a rigor smile
stuck in this empty soul.
We all walk these roads alone.
Together we're so alone.
When do I find out if this is it?
Where do i go to cash in these chips?
Do i empty this clip or cling to this sinking ship?
Follow me down...
Please don't say "no," please don't go.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 5:51 PM UTC
The way tarnish defines weathered copper
we see men defined my media.
Rise up power! Take hold indulgence!
Succeed, conquor and win all you can.
Gone are the days of hearing ones soul
rooting ourselves to another to remind us
that we are not transcendent.
Tomorrow is never promised.
Investment refers to stocks and bonds,
no longer to each other.
They rise and fall like the sea- impermanent
like ourselves. We long for cohesion.
We toss ourselves to and fro,
choosing to weather the raging ocean rather than
moor ourselves in the cove of friendship
and take a chance on what's real.
Now are the days of showmanship.
More than you, less than him--- besting when we can.
Gone are the days of foundations
you can really stand on.
Rise up you days of sand.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
The stars stayed in tonight.
They were intimidated by
the light and heat emanating from
you and me.
They knew it would be
without cause to try
and outshine our love.
They knew you and I would
put them to shame.
Orion put away his belt and
watched us dreamily.
Taurus calmed itself,
going off to sleep.
Even the seven sisters
somehow managed to put aside their differences
in order to watch our warm glow.
So we went out walking
just to be sure
the world wouldn’t be without our light.
With each step and each word
we only confirmed the
thoughts of the stars
and the cloudy sheets stayed fast.
Only the moon dared
try to outshine us.
She knew her love of the sun
would be the only light brighter
than us.
Feb 28, 2010
Feb 28, 2010 at 11:32 AM UTC
Starting seed, sleeping-blissful slumber flavoredwith dreams of abundance.a gentle heat envelopescoaxing life with warm embraces.Sustenance rains from the skyto fulfill the awakening life.Tightened, stiffened sinews regain their strengthstretching, reaching towardswarmth and light.Here, now, the sun is waning.The shift to the colddead times. The last of her warm embrace issoulfully propelled towardthe late bloomers, the oversleeperssweetly caressing them into wakefulness for the lastdying colors to the brightestof seasons.
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 5:21 PM UTC
I don't know what to say,
or what to call this--feeling?
No--momentum.
The speedwith which
you're crashing into me
.Suddenly, quickly, sweetly, quietly
you've crept into everything
I think of, dream, wish for.
I can't see where I've earned
anything so sweet, so kind.
Nor can i see what i could
possibly offer you.
I imagine that we are all
like grape juice, fermenting
slowly, sweetening, perfecting
and we search in each other
for the most complementary
flavor. We give a little of
ourselves to a few or many
glasses, trying, trying.
But--
suddenly, quickly, sweetly, quietly,
we pour a bit of ourselves
into one cup that blends us
perfectly into fine wine.
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 5:18 PM UTC
I can see it
intriguing smile, flirty eyes,
hair just so, to where it falls across my face.
My breath caresses the mic as if
a snake charmer wooing a cobra.
The crowd leans in
ever so slightly
in one uniform motion
but each are unaware of the others.
Confident, charming
I own them for that moment
and everything I say matters.
Maybe too much.
They chant with me
cult-like in rhythm
and memorization-of idle words
profanely displayed on billboards,
websites, anything at all.
They drink it in- starving to be inspired.
They are without, and I’ve convinced them I’m with.
With what? With consumerism,
battling to control their
next poorly placed dollar?
with knowledge that they don’t have?
Why don’t they have it? Have they tried?
No, of course not. This liberty island has
given up on the American dream; hoping
it can be fought from a prostrate position
on an over-stuffed couch from their
over-stuffed mouths.
They’ve been stuffed with too much power,
too much misplaced freedom.
America, you are no longer free. You chain yourself
with entitlement and ownership.
You force your ideals on any too weak
to speak up for their own. You have turned
into one giant, fifth grade girl fight
with hair-pulling, pinching and screams.
You don’t even know why you fight anymore,
do you?
Feb 20, 2010
Feb 20, 2010 at 3:02 PM UTC
"Don't die on the inside,"
was the text i sent-
knowing it was a bittersweet visit
and a hard decision.
"I'm gonna get so ****** up,"
to forget- as we discussed,
because everyone knows
Bud is the friend of the broken.
Never forget, my friend,
the things that make you feel,
because numbness is a hell
of probing fingers only the mute acknowledge.
Upon discussion, you recite back
the "right thing to do" with all the logic-
an adult assurance of
knowing what's best over what's wanted.
And yet, stone words
rolled easily off of my well-advise tongue
to assure you
of the answer you dreaded.
We both know the ONE will
never come, doesn't exsist, was never determined-
but try to appreciate that your stage time
hasn't yet come in the tragedy that is love.
So when the stone words weigh you down,
don't jump in, don't drown.
Take each stone, examining it well,
and don't die on the inside.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 5:28 PM UTC
Skyfall
usually docile
sweet and cleansing.
Today-
bitter, oppressive, forceful,
breaking through-
manipulating the earth
teasing all life
with the promise
of sustenance
but with no delivery.
Gathering itself
to push through the lowlands.
All take cover tonight,
except angry gales
joining the clouds in
their hatred of gravity
and ****** the earth
with rain.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 5:24 PM UTC
My joy bubbled over
when I saw you again.
Words overlapped
like midday traffic in New York.
Our hands found
their home with eachother
as if there was never
an absence.
I guess i just never
realized I had left
a slice of my soul
in your hands.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 5:21 PM UTC