I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Month: March 2018
Pretend. Avoid. Ignore.
It enrages, incenses and saddens me
Stop the world. I want to get off.
Pretend. Avoid. Ignore.
These are all the ways we lose ourselves
These are the reasons we run
We hide
We lie to ourselves
To others
Pretend. Avoid. Ignore.
This is why we don’t believe in ourselves
This is why confidence has failed us
This is why we all search
For meaning
For validation
Outside of ourselves
The answers lie within
If only we would listen
If only we would rise
If only we would try
If only we would find
Our voice and value
From within
We are all capable
We are all powerful
And this…
We forget the power we have
And we give it up to others
Far too often
Far too easily
Because of the struggles
And sufferings
And hurts
And unresolved pains
Everyone is carrying
To the point of overwhelm
Going through expected motions
To be good enough
Pretend. Avoid. Ignore
See me
Hear me
Accept me
Like me
Love me
Validate me
Stop. Just stop.
Damn the boxes
None of us want to fit in
But are forced to be placed in
Off with the masks
Of pretend, avoid, ignore
We wear
To hell with the platitudes
Of incessant fakeness and positivity
Love and light
Thoughts and prayers
The human condition
And reality
This only serves to feed
In feast or in famine
Never satiated
Pretend. Avoid. Ignore
Stop. Just stop.
Take a breath
Take some time
See things as they are
Stand strong in your knowing
Be firm in the unknowing
Venture forth and on
Embrace your rebel,
Bah, bah blacksheep…
Rise up. Revolt
Be different
Stand apart
And stand out
Be badass
Just as you are
Show up.
Be seen.
Be heard.
A little or
A lot
Wiser
To all the lessons that
Have shaken
And grown
And groomed me
Not right
Not wrong
Hard
Desperate
Challenged
In pieces
Shredded
Naked
Lost
Broken
Shattered
No more misguided
No longer misdirected
No longer creating
My own madness
I banish out
Pretend, avoid, ignore
I prefer to birth my wild
Wild to me is held tight in reigns
It loosens in moments
In situations
With people
In traps
In abandon
No inhibition
My wild eases and soothes
It is my comfort
It is my rebel
It cradles me
And explodes around me
My wild is careful
And cautious
Hidden and secretive
Bared only for a select few
Yet it sneaks out
And slithers about
It gets me in trouble
For it will not be caught
My wild is loud
It is proud
It seeps and seethes
It whispers softly
Then screams at me in defiance
My wild is the daggers in my eyes
The thunder in my feet
The fuck you that cannot,
Will not be concealed on my face
It vibrates throughout my body
Down with these walls that imprison me
My wild is quiet and withheld
Released and un-caged
It booms and pounds
And settles to a hum
Then hammers me like a drum
My wild is raw
And true and real
Shrouded in nicety
It is coveted and safe
Tucked away neatly
Then unknowingly unleashed
My wild is embodied in me
You will see me
You will hear me
You will fear me
You will respect me
Shhhh….not so loud
Step back in the shadows
My wild is my mind
My wild is my being
My wild is my voice
My wild is my heart
My wild is my soul
Buried deep within and among
These bones
My wild is…all of me
A cocoon
A web
Exposed in my authenticity
Just me
Released
Unapologetic
Honest
True
Real
No fucks to give
There is no allowance
You are not welcome
Here
Pretend
Avoid
Ignore
The time has come
To let your wild
Roar
©2018 Angela Felzmann
Angela Felzmann is a helping professional by day; heavy metal rocker chick when free from social compliance, and trying to be as authentic and true and genuine as any situation allows.
Posted on March 27, 2018 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
By Whitney Poole
Eight years. They’ve passed in a blur. They’ve flown. And yet they’ve crept.
I remember, in your first year, I felt, “Finally. I’ve found what I’m meant to do with my life.” And then I forgot that. I thought it meant raising babies, but now I think it meant nurturing. Creating. Sharing Joy. Living in the light of now.
I lost that, baby girl. I tried to filter life through someone else’s lens. I didn’t sit with my soul. I forgot to be in the quiet until I felt the answers. I looked to others and asked what their answers were.
I took those answers and made them my walls. That’s where I went wrong, my sweet girl.
Then, when I finally started listening to my soul, I didn’t know what to do with the answers. So I turned again to others, and I asked what they thought of my answers.
I let their opinions become my truth.
So, baby, don’t let anyone else tell you who you are. Not me, not your Daddy, not your friends. You learn to sit and listen to your soul. Because you’re brave, my sweet girl. You’re brave enough to hear the answers and trust the truths whispered, even when it’s hard.
If you will ask the questions, be honest enough to hear the answers and brave enough to trust what you hear, then you will not be led astray. You will not fall off your own path. You will not neglect your soul purpose.
I want for you more than I have ever wanted for myself.
So, I want to let you know that I am finding my way. And my way; my path back to my soul purpose, will cause you pain. And for that I am so very sorry. But I hope that my example of living a life of ‘less than’ and making my way back to my truest potential will someday be one that shows you how to be true to you.
And I hope you will find a way to always be the perfect being I know you to be. Perhaps I can be the reminder to you that the pain and the fear you must overcome to be your best self are so very worth it.
May every year between this and your last be spent in the light of who you are.
All my love for all of my lives,
Mama
©2015 Whitney Poole
Whitney Poole is a Virginia-based writer, though her poetry reflects her own deep Southern roots. Whitney has found her voice while writing her way through personal transformation, discovering that true beauty lies within the rubble. Her self-appointed task is to show this truth to others.
Posted on March 27, 2018 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
WORDS FOR SOMEONE ELSE
Jen Claire is a mother, writer, and an aspiring author from the Midwest, USA. With an emphasis on literary imagery and poetic therapy, Jen consciously pays attention to the unconscious and shares her feelings and emotions as @jenwritz on Instagram.
