uninspired

For my birthday last year my roommate gave me
the gift that I asked for:
a word of the day calendar.
and i use it each day. and i read the word and
i tell myself I am going to use that word in a
conversation at some point during the day.
but i never do.
i mostly see the words as a kind of forshadowing
of what my day is going to be like.
today's word: solipsism.
meaning a theory holding that the self can
know nothing but its own modifications and
that the self is the only existent thing.
i didn't use that word in a sentence today.
i'm not sure i know what it means.
i can't know anything but myself as I change
and exist through time.
i haven't been able to write. but i am writing now.
I thank Bukowski. he inspires me. his poetry,
his alcoholism, his honesty. his death.
I was in the City this weekend. And all I had was one goal.
To find the Bethesda Fountain. It took me over an hour to find.
Its smack dab in the middle of Central Park.
I found Bethesda. (I speak like we are old friends)
and sat and sat. and watched and watched.
for over two hours. in the sun. and i listened and i didnt move.
and i tried to write. i wanted to write. so i did.
and i realize now how much i hate what i wrote. it might have
been good. but i know now it was uninspired.
Bukowski inspires me. Bethesda simply quiets me.
And I thank them both.

sophomore slump

Sophomore Slump
By Diana Lee LaBrecque

Maybe its because I am a romantic at heart
Hidden by a dark cloak of cynic bad dreams.

Maybe its because my mother is right and
All I need is a boyfriend…or maybe a job.

Maybe its because for some reason it’s still winter
And the groundhog likes to mess
With the seasonal depression in all of us.

Maybe all of a sudden everything feels like its
Too much to handle
Maybe all of a sudden everything feels like its
Not enough to fully hold.

Maybe I could just blame that boy that said he’d write.
Maybe I could just blame that bad mix of antidepressants.
Maybe I could just blame that lack of attention as a child.

But I’ve played those games before and
I’m still left with questions given as answers.

And that sudden rush of panicked emptiness
That needs to be filled with anything but lonely regret

Maybe its that damn fear that I’ll wake up tomorrow and
Want to be anything else than what I am trying
To be for the rest of my life

Maybe its that damn fear
that I should have woken up yesterday.
To shake myself from this slump

comment ramble on "Isaac's Dream"

meeting isaac's dream roomate of some one im waiting for
not like i go out and try to be seen but
you know people know you the best that know you the worst
and guitarists always say, hey jess, write me a title for this mess of words, hey jess, when you hear this do you get any ideas for a layout a life
a lyric a hit a pause i heard you can make a
symphony fit a collage?
and he tells me the story of isaac's dream
i repeat it like an idiot thinking it means anything
mortals die one death and artists die two
one for the body and
for what they never could do
so i hear a story of isaac's dream
so dark it inspires me scary i know
another story to repeat
at times
when people should know
what we all must know.

eyes extreme

(work in progress)

isaac's dream.
she said-with eyes extreme.
not some religious tale.
but a kid who drove cross country
in a dream.
and kissed its reality hard.
he met the life almost had.
but its too bad,
he was taught tragedy
with one eye open.