Dead

I have no passion left. I don’t care about anything I once cared about. Organic healthy food, gardening, exercise, making my own health and beauty products, hiking, camping, art, building, writing, fun, adventure, sustainable living, TREEHOUSES… Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest don’t inspire anymore, they only make me sad and angry now. It’s all so worthless. No one else cares who I am, or who I once was. those things don’t matter, who I was never mattered because I was the only one who cared. No one shared in those passions with me. I can’t care anymore. It’s too hard to keep up with all of that. There isn’t time nor money to care anyway and it hurts too much to give a shit when no one else feels my passion, no one else feels joy in doing those things WITH me, always telling me why we can’t, or why they don’t want to. No one cares to lift me up to a place where I am ABLE to care about those things and pursue them. No one is proud of my passions, and now I’m not either.IMG_6101 They are dead, and I might as well be too. I wish I was. I wish I could lay down and never wake up in this stupid world. But I can’t. I would leave and find like minded souls, but THIS is my family. I have an obligation to feed and clothe them, to keep them alive and moving forward. So I stay. I try to love them. I DO love them, even though it means losing myself. I’m trying. I wake up every morning, I pull myself painfully out of merciful sleep and I put one foot in front of the other, living the same drudgery over and over and over again. I work every day instead of doing the things that I once loved, and every cent I make is sucked away  by the money sucking machine. No passion, no hope, no joy. I hope I can keep trudging long enough to get them through before I die. I am dying. Slowly. I’ve failed the child that I was. Not a single dream has come true. I’m tired of fighting, so I won’t anymore. I surrender to this bondage, the enslavement to the machine. Fuck it all.

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Today I pushed you from me. 


  

For the second time in history.

In reality I can’t count how many times I’ve pushed you out.

But this time…

Oh this time it’s as sweet as it’s been bitter.

Cuz you’ll think of me too as time grows thicker.

Waiting on the Other Side

  Are you there? 

On the other side?

Watching me? Waiting?

I’m lonely.

Slowly returning to normalcy.

No longer hiding and scared.

Still can’t eat much.

Can’t sit down much.

I walk around sighing

playing with my hair

touching my face

hugging myself.

One second smiling,

The next I’m dying.

I’m a twitterpated tween.

Shake it off

Check my phone

My inbox is safely,

despairingly…empty.

Love songs are no longer meaningless, but tragic.

Attempting to push emotions

& crackling chemistry asside

Trying to bring back logic 

In order to decide.

Think RATIONAL thoughts Jeanette!

Reality is rarely like our fantasies.

Don’t jump in blind.

(Self Portrait by JETTE 1997)

Heaven On Earth

I’ll not always be pretty, but if you let me, I’ll paint you some beautiful walls.

Fill your house with smells when the snow falls.

Soups, coffee, stews

Cookies, cider and hot brews

If you provide the means.

In the summer your…our yard would be bursting with greens!

Melons, cabbages, tomatoes, herbs and beans!

The kids would make crafts and we’d cook and sing!

If you just provide the means.

With you, we’d camp and hike and fish!

Travel every corner of creation, sometimes with kids, but others, the kids we’d ditch! 😉

We’d run around outside having fun to stay fit.

It wouldn’t be a chore, it would be life,

fun and free and light!

I’d create for hours every day

while you and the kids were away.

I’d sew and paint and write!

Oh what a beautiful sight!

They say heaven is beyond human imagination and it must be true.

If heaven is better than that, I can’t wait till this life is through.

Love Songs

So many love songs.

I hear them line by loving line.

from across the whole world they are keeping time.

Why can’t just one be mine?

Oh God I’m running out of time!

I sound so bitter, but I promise I’m sweet

Only scared I won’t be pretty

by the time we meet.

I don’t need money nor do I need fame.

I just want someone to feel butterflies

at the sound of my name.

I live with someone,

but I’m all alone.

Begging for a love song,

but his heart is stone.

He’d have me believe that all men are this way,

that I don’t deserve one anyway.

But I know that’s not true!

I hear them singing! I DO!

Men know how to love, I just know they do!

Why doesn’t mine? What did I do?

I just want a love song.

One that’s true.

Legal Addictions

But cha know!

Knowin’ ya gonna get another go

is just goin’ roun’ an’ roun’

knowin’ ya gonna get another go

is goin’ roun’ an’ roun’ in circles

why we gotta do the things we do

we’re not movin’ foreward

why we gotta do the things we do

you know they keep us out of heaven

and I say

the Lord forgive but we must not forget

we gotta pay for what we’re doin’

Rollin’ up pon that little corner store

sayin’ Lord just one more smoke

then I’m gonna quit oh Lord you know I will

when this pack is gone

sittin’ on the front porch rocker swing

puffin’ up that nasty smoke

three babies sittin’ by an’ by

watchin’ their momma kill herself before their eyes

I’m trustin’ in the Fathers’ forgiveness

to excuse this thing I’m doin’

the Lord is gonna give me one more chance

yes I know He will

But cha know!

knowin’ ya gonna get another go

is just goin’ roun’ and roun’

knowin’ ya gonna get another go

is goin’ roun’ an’ roun’ in circles

why we gotta do the things we do

we’re not movin’ foreward

why we gotta do the things we do

you know they keep us out of heaven

the Lord forgive but we must not forget

we gotta pay for what we’re doin’

the wife and kids have gone away today

out to visit grandma

and he says

oh Lord I know it’s sin but I am just a man

what she don’t know won’t hurt her

sit on down and flip the little switch

on the home computer

look at all the honeys Lord they look so nice

they’re everything she isn’t

I’m trustin’ in the Fathers’ forgiveness

to excuse this thing I’m doin’

the Lord is gonna give me one more chance

yes I know He will

but cha know

knowin’ ya gonna get another go

is just goin’ roun’ an’ roun’

knowin’ ya gonna’ get another go

is goin’ roun’ an’ roun’ in circles

why we gotta do the things we do

ya know they keep us out of heaven

the Lord forgive but we must not forget

we gotta pay for what we’re doin’

bar-b-que at the river today

oh Lord there’s gonna be beer there

I’ll only have a few cuz you know how I am

I wanna be a good mother

I’m feelin’ good and the kids are all playin’

I’ll just have another

twelve beers later I can’t stand up no more

oh and my baby’s cryin’

I’m trustin’ in the Father’s forgiveness

to excuse this thing I’m doin’

the Lord is gonna give me one more chance

oh yes I know He will….

American Woman

I thought I’d share a poem I wrote around 2007 when the kids were still little.

American Woman

she’s an average American woman

full of questions, dualities, confusion

says and thinks she don’t know what’s wrong or right,

but in her heart she knows the truth from the lies

she’s a mother and her kids so love her

but she no longer has time to be a good lover

marked and saggin’ from bearin’ and raisin’

she knows her body’s no longer worth cravin’

the girls on tv are fake, an illusion

it’s so wrong to need that to feel like a woman

she wants to get back what she lost with her youth

but how would she feel if her body weren’t truth?

she knows earth will die from so much pollution

can’t afford “green” so she lives in delusion

she wants to help the worlds hunger and strife

instead her family’s fed at Wal-Marts low price

she knows it’s wrong to add to the landfills

but what can she do with all the diapers and spills?

resycaling’s expensive, laundry takes time

it’s all an excuse, she knows she’s committing crime

“This world is so screwed!” she cries in her heart

can she teach herself and kids to make a new start?

she feels way to weak, too tired, and too dumb

so she goes about her brainwashed life feeling numb

Bubble Bath Reflections

Forgive me please, writing is not my first art, I am a visual artist. Please take a few moments to browse through my work and comment whenever you like?

Taking a bath, listening to Yoruma Radio on Pandora. Staring at my completely bare bathroom walls with candle light dancing off them. Smelling the incredible scent of both candles and essential oils. I’m dreaming of what could be there on those bare walls staring back at me. I want a play of mirrors and fine art there for the candles to dance with. I’m in a particularly bitter and depressed mood for various reasons. The bath and candles help. The music is so incredibly soothing. It occurs to me that I could make music like that if I applied myself for years. But I don’t really want to. I’d rather apply paint or clay. Instrumental music is one art I would just want to appreciate and admire. That thought leads me to be disturbed. I DO appreciate music. It helps me relax, to think. This particular type helps me feel luxurious, rich and relaxed. But I’m none of those things. I’m not classy, I am starting a new job tomorrow that pays half of what I’m used to. I’m only hoping I can keep these walls that I have so many hopes for. Here I am soaking in clean water with beautiful light dancing around me listening to music that just a short time ago was reserved for only the most noble. Am I grateful? Oh YES! I am in clean hot water with bubbles and scents and can crawl into a nice bed within these many walls! But also, as I mentioned, I’m disturbed. You see, I’m an artist too. I know what it takes to acquire such skill, and how that skill is such a part of you that it’s impossible to separate the individual from the art. Here I am knowing that if I had to pay for the privilege, it’s not that I wouldn’t, but I COULDN’T. As an artist, and a good one I think, I can’t even afford to MAKE my OWN art without a full time job, much less support other artists. And with a full time job I must sacrifice family to make art.

I CAN’T pay for it, this beautiful music, and neither can many others, save the uber rich, or upper middle class at the least. Now instead of relaxing, I feel guilty. I want to give these AMAZING artists who bring me such joy and help and comfort, their due, just like my loyal fans who always profess to LOVE my work, but never buy any. I get SO bitter that I can’t get PAID to do the thing that brings me, and seems to bring others, so much joy. That means I CANNOT do it and feed my children too. And who does pay artists now days anyway? Advertising agencies I guess. But that leads to a whole other bag if worms….

I just can’t wait for the Kingdom to come! A day when I and everyone else can do what they are called to do and still have enough for themselves and their young!

And then I think how selfish I must be! I MUST be grateful for the job that will keep food in their mouths even if if won’t provide a vacation or art materials. Oh Lord help my selfishness? Help my worldly desires? Please bless the artists of the world whom you have called to make beautiful things for your sake and not for the pleasures of this world? Please help us be strong enough to deny ourselves while continuing to use the gifts you have given us for YOUR glory?

So blissful, and so melancholy at the same time,

Jeanette
A.K.A. JETTE

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