lauren Joan's own

Now-a-days LA and my DNA

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Tue, 03 Mar 2015 18:55:00 +0000

Now-a-days LA

The life is different in SoCal

I come

Every long once

In a while

I always forget

But remember

When I get here

How it feels

The light is

Suffused

Yet

More direct

Like desert air

Mixed with ocean

And smog

Underneath you can feel

How gorgeous it's innocence

Once was

When My great grandmother moved

To SoCal Los Angeles

90 years ago,

Before my grandfather

Even knew my grandma,

When his hair was curly

Chestnut

And his smile young

As well as bright

He came here to

Los Angeles

From Salt Lake City

To try to make a go of

Living the Cali life

But missed

The place

he'd only ever

Live his life long,

Moved back

To salt lake-

Mormon land

After only 6 months

And I am here now

A-days LA

Cause he went to a church

ward dance

After finding the California life

Was not his

Life

And so in

Salt lake later

He saw my beautiful black haired

Grandmother

When she was

16 years old and

He was 20

They danced

And danced

And married

And danced

And

My mother came

With her chestnut curls

Screaming

And bewildered

Into the world

And

So I'm here

The Autumn

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Mon, 24 Nov 2014 07:04:00 +0000

The autumn

Wind and sky

Leaves dance

Autumn

Beauty

Lasting

For a

Precious

Moment

Birds chatter call

Water ripples

Spilling the reflection

Gold

Green

Yellow

The foothills roll

In the distance

And the air is sweet

With dusk

The dogs pant

Whine

It's time

To move on

And so we do

Flying

Into this memory

Crackling the pebble walk

Beneath our feet.

Our honored Dead

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Mon, 03 Nov 2014 02:15:00 +0000

Dia de los muertos

Our honored dead

Ancestors

Dead

Death another realm

Another place

Where flowers bloom

Fragrant everlasting

And we, in this side,

Living

Smelling the flowers

Lost to us once they bloom;

Yet there

Another reaches us,

It's face

A glimpse

Delicate

Sweet

Caress

Of memory

That lives

Alongside

Our yearning,

Assuages the sharp breath

Of sunset

The Stars

appearing before us,

forever there,

to behold.

Our imagined presumption

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Mon, 27 Oct 2014 04:56:00 +0000

Our imagined presumption

The blister erupts

Boils scrum

What is this infection

We spew?

The obsolescence

A manufactured

Distortion,

Would we

Grasp

This

The light of

Truth?

What is truth?

When the later day

Social constructs blind

Our insight

We will be once and

Forever

Bereft

Grief strangled

Upon a shore

Of our own drowned

Vision.

Stark grace

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 10 Sep 2014 19:25:00 +0000

Beheaded by ISIS

Acting

In their so-called

Name of God

Militant hands

Held up

The chubby little body.

The child's arms

Hung like a dolls

In the hands of

The dark, bearded man

Eyes showing blankly

Horrific,

She wore a ruffled dress

White tights over shoeless

Small feet

She must have been

4 years old or 3

I imagine she had curly

Black hair

And her smile brought

Delight to those who

Cherished her

The toll

Wretched minds

Wreck upon the world

She who was justly

Innocent

Her ruffled dress in bright colors

Caught

In the park

Playground

Playing

With dolls

What is this descent

Beyond hell?

Wretched place

Of ice

Black

Dark

Extinct of Light's

Shine?

Love

Unknown

To these monstrous

Men,

It's gleam

Of feeling

Extinguished

So profoundly

In their fiery

blank

Eyes,

Holding the little one's

Life

In their own

Lifeless hands?

Sorrow runs

Deep

Bottomless

From them--

they who

have nothing

To hold

Except a

Heart

bearing starvation's scars.

While the little one's

radiance

Sings

An Innocence

Transcendence

Of darkness and

Dying

In ruffled dress,

White stocking feet

Plump baby arms

From just a doll's

body.

Spring fever

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Sat, 02 Aug 2014 21:52:00 +0000

Chicken love watermelon

Spring and the flowers bloom

Oranges next to blossoms in the

Same tree

Early watermelon from Mexico

And the chickens love

The luscious sweet

But they don't like

Cantaloupe

Soon the only thing left

Is watermelon juice stains

Beside drying pieces

Of cantaloupe

Mint reaches towards sun

Open arms deep green

Mud is black and wet

Roses grandly flushed

Red leaves of the crabapple

Tree catch and swirl

In the wind

Dogs sleep and snore

Hummingbird clicks

A bee, then a wasp

Hover fly by

Wind chimes ring

And there I see the

Hummingbird zoom zip

In the blue

Calling out

I am here

In this now

And me, I think,

On a day in spring

I called in sick today

From work

Pizza pilgrims progress

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Sat, 02 Aug 2014 21:49:00 +0000

A pizza Pilgrims progress

Lo johns pizza

Bleeker street

East village

New York City

Holy shrine

Of pizza pies

From brick ovens shimmering

Crisp the sacred crust

Oh heaven on earth!

Is it the water?

Is it the tomatoey sweet sharp tang?

Cheese skimmed melty?

The seance in old long time

Greenwich village occupation?

The scratched scarred walls?

Generations of scrawled initials

Names dates years

Scratches on scratches

Story layers

Time travel

And time arrested

While all around Bleeker

The yogurt shops

And skinny model clothes shops

Shopping center for the few

Who can

Gucci

Jimmy Choo's

Live their priceless

Privilege

Johns

Pizza

Circ 1950s

I look up

At the neon sign

Glowing bright

Look through the window

To outside

Through fluorescent

Red letters

Caught suspect

Spelling itself backwards

But shinning on.

Meadowville time travel

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Sat, 02 Aug 2014 21:45:00 +0000

Iridescent:

Old house in meadowville Idaho

The things we see

In the shimmering of time

The green fields burst with life

The sky above a dramatic

blue-

-White cavalcade

And the little house

Standing still

It's memories grasped

In rusted window latches

Rusted window shades

Littered floor-ceiling plastered

Broken glass

Old discarded trash

Yet alive

Dancing echoes in the air

Voices of children playing

Teacher's school bell ringing

Waiting horses swishing tails

In afternoon heat

Family home cooking at the stove

Setting sun gold sky

The windows filled by

Exquisite meadowed landscape

Then now today this moment

in tomorrow

Resting in heart and bone and blood

Eternal

And earth

once and

forever.

St Mary's all hail the uncles

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Fri, 01 Aug 2014 23:11:00 +0000

St Mary's all hail the uncles

One day

My uncle saw that BYU

and St Mary's U

In Moraga, Cali

playing basketball

Or was it baseball

"I saw this as a place,"

My uncle said,

To sell my house (in Salt Lake City, UT) and move to"

Retire from retirement

That is

"If the wife goes first"

He reiterated

Start a new life.

Then, Later, upon a separate visit (uncles not talking these live long years over an old maelstrom)

my other uncle,

Upon hearing

his (younger) brother

was seeing something in

St Mary's remembered

Their grandfather

Who was a janitor for

St Mary's school

On the hills in SLC

Who said, (circa 1953 or so),

pushing his broom,

"You should go to St Mary's

College - it's a baseball college"

"But I never did," older uncle said, sweeping his hand out

Over the street, yards, neighborhood,

"instead,

I met Connie (the girl next door) and stayed right here"

Grandpa is long gone

Connie's gone now, too

The uncles are here

Caught in between

St Mary's

Then

And

Now

Yearning,

Missing

The living their life

and lonely

All hail St Mary's,

Dear uncles.

LA X

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Sun, 16 Mar 2014 06:34:00 +0000

LA X

The dinosaur of international

Terminal travel

Wireless weak

No charging stations

Only tired

Scratched plastic tables

And worn navy nagahid

Seating

Circa1992

So it goes

And I wait

Terminal B

Terminal Bore

Then hallelujah

The phone rings

He's here landed

All the way from Dubai

From Basra from

Samawa, Iraq

The old home town

Where bombs ring

The country

And the people are

"Their minds no good"

He says

From all the war

So he comes back

Home away from home

California

Come here and help me, he says

But doesn't understand I can't

Go past security

Like we used to back in the day

September 10, 2001

He's tired

Confused

Addled

Come help me he insists

I can't

Fuck you then

So it goes

Welcome back

I love you

2 hours pass

And finally he comes walking out

Dragging his carry on bag

behind him

the big bag

Is gone

On -

Flying in

To home

Without him

February 1, 2014: Birthday Compost @ 56

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Sun, 16 Feb 2014 05:23:00 +0000

February 1, 2014:
Birthday compost @ 56

The sun is beautiful
Despite the drought
Cali dry
Blue skies
Recently washed
With just a little rain
So the day unfolds
A path of thorns
And thistles that
Grasp soft
Downy self
The way paved
With rocks,
whithered
Weeds from last spring
And thin brave
Shoots of green crab grass
While a red-tailed hawk
Sweeps overhead
Great captain
Glides
I am this magnificence
I am the lost weeds of last spring
I am tender shoots
Green pushing through
The dry thorns
The sticky sharp thistle
Needles that prick
But fall away
Dissolved crushed
When picked out
The wind carrying
Bits and cloud
Leaves and soaring
Hawk captain
Into silent sky.

Tlahuiollin

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Mon, 27 Jan 2014 03:27:00 +0000

Tlahuiollin

He stands so tall

The morning sun

Glints upon

His obsidian hair

Sleek

Pulled back

Into a tight

Thick dark braid

Held firm

Twisting to his waist

The neatness of his

White shirt and tie

The softness of deep brown

Eyes

Alive with all he sees and

Feels

So young

Yet a true warrior

He is a king

His spirit

His body

the soil in

Earth

Wind

Fire

The clouds surrounding

Peaks

Mountains

ancient

Volcanic

Jagged sheer

Shoots of yellow corn

Green forest

Moss

The gentleness

Of family love

The tilled farmland

And all the humble people

Who harvest its bounty

He is the summation --

His hands holding the now

His heart reaching all tomorrow.

The Way

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Sat, 18 Jan 2014 06:36:00 +0000

The way

The clocks tick

The fire burns jumps red yellow

Through the stove window

Molly cat sits watching the flames

The warmth of the silence

Then the soft voice unwavering --

Believe

Always

Let go of all doubt

This work is hard

The reward deep

The fire burns dances

The silence of a warm room

Of listening

Waiting

Breathing the meaning

Into heart's blood,

Muscle's memory

Spirit's singing--

The moment living

The life unfurling

The mountains waiting to climb

The waters vast reach

To sail upon

This ocean

These currents

Taking us

To this way.

Micro ScopicTime

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Mon, 09 Dec 2013 03:20:00 +0000

Micro scopic time

west fate shopping fever

Blooming dale s

The chatter

And circumstances

We immerse

Ourselves in

The bright like green

Red blue Christmas lights

The splendor of a night

So cold you have to wear

Mittens

Scarf

Hat

Wool wrapped

Warm

In the nights starlight and

Sparkling cold

Rare for cali folks along the coast,

Never mind the majestic sierras,

I am here

Now in this shopping

Christ

Mass

Mecca

The mall

And in this

I see the night

The colored lights

The soft warm wool

Wrapping

Ever lasting

If I just take a micro scoptic

Moment

To remember.

Deluxe Memory

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:38:00 +0000

Deluxe salad days

2 pkgs cherry jello

1 lemon jello

1 1/2 c. Pineapple juice

1 c. Whip cream

1 c cottage cheese small curd

Deluxe salad

Family time

July 1968

Or '69

Those were the days

When simple jello

Was tbe exotic

When pineapple juice

Was the world

Brought to you

In a can

Sweetness

Tropical

Palm trees and ocean breeze

In the dry Utah-Idaho summer-scape

Cousins and teetertoters

Hot shiny metal slides to the sand

And grass

Swing high jump out to the sky

Land fall roll laugh

Do it again

Grownups talk in the shade of

The park picnic tables

Under mighty cottonwood trees

Faded photos taken that day

Of the old folks

Four sisters One brother

Grandma joy

Great Aunt ined

Great Aunt elma

Great Aunt orpha

Great Uncle Dick--old cowboy--alcoholic

All in a row

So long ago

Seems like yesterday

But dim

Til I taste the deluxe salad

I made today

July in 2010 California

And it has the right flavors

Color

Almost the same textures

But not as pretty as grandma's.

Which means

I'll have to try again

So I can hold that day

Tight to me

Like today

Like time

Isn't bound

Or linear

But alive still

However we choose

To know it.

Bat Mitzvah

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:36:00 +0000

Bat Mitzvah eve

Chant the dreamscape currents

Knowing the meaning

Without the hesitation

Of un-lived life--

So we hold these moments

Precious and true

Glorious grace

Held in the center of

Our heart

Realized

And within

Reach.

New York minute

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:35:00 +0000

Late summer night NYC

The hum

People

Moving

The night like silver black skin

The brilliant and the destitute

Cigarette smoke

Take a slow drag

It's like hell is heaven

Choosing what to see

Will we see?

Bongo drumming

Splash of water a lone sound

In a fountain bravely going on

What beauty

Young black woman sits

Alone

Looks down

The fountain rising

Singing

Behind her

She sits and writes

Silent

A piece of herself

Shimmers there

Reflects the light

Her face

A contemplate

While the brilliant and the shinning ones

Walk round her and

Through the smoke

The hum

The sorry ones

Seeing only hell

New York dreams 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:33:00 +0000

She is filled

She walks into the rainy unknown

Knowing the purpose

Of her inner integrity

"new York is harder

In the rain" she says,

Looking at the dreary

Wet outside her window

Watching people dodge the rain

The old tough new Yorkers

Push their frailty across

The busy streets.

How have they managed?

City life is a hard life

No time to be weary

Just keep going

One foot in front of the

Other.

She is young but not so

Almost 26 she has

Some city living

Forged into her determination

She knows it's tough

Some days

But it's also so very

Marvelous too

A magic colored bright

And dark

" I'll be alright,"

She says

And seeing her there

I know she will.

Crumbs and Sunshine in New York

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:32:00 +0000

Overcast but clear September

Humid afternoon

Warm

NYU students

Chattering

Birds of a feather

Gather in Union

Square

new York city

Brash

Ignorant innocent

Before

Life has had it's way

Chewed and spit

Them

Reshaped

And

Challenged

The persistence

Of their longitude,

Brutalized their

Surviving latitudes;

Yet they

Shine with light,

The brightness

Of sparrows

And little brown birds

That sing in the morning

Before they go

Scavenging the broken

Sidewalk,

Foraging for crumbs .

September 11, 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:30:00 +0000

Dreams lost: September 11, 2011

We hold ourselves

To be self evidence

Of resiliency

Ten years

Two

War/Occupations

Shattered landscape

From which we

Arise

And

Try

To fly

From

Only it's very

Complexity

Anchors our flight

And all that remains

Of justice

The striving.

My Girl Dreams

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:29:00 +0000

My girl

She gifts herself

By following her dreams

The path is bright and dark

It questions her tenaciousness

She answers

Digs deeper

Constructs the ways

And utilizes the means

Plunges herself into

The soil she plants

New York wet

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:26:00 +0000

Rain in new york

The wet sends

Shivering

The few scampering

For shelter

Umbrellas hardly

Holding back the rain

Pools along curbs

Wait for the errant

Footstep

The sliding streets blacker

Washed dirt that never

Retreats, a slickly visible

resonace

Traffic never ceases

Life hunkers shoulders hunched

The night homesick

For dry twilight

A memory balmy

And out of reach

Except for the waiting

And the promise

The wet won't

Always hold us captive

This Moment

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:25:00 +0000

We are this moment

This moment

Now

Holds every possibility

Ever that exists

Has existed

Will exist

Infinite

Unfathomable

Yet known

Deeply

Intimately

There

Right before

Our

Naked

Longing

Willing us

To plunge

Fall in to

Indigenize

Embrace

This

Simple courage

And live

Zoo of Memory

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:23:00 +0000

A dream, a memory

Time arrested

Flash

Sunshine from

Long ago

Lost but not

A hot Arizona afternoon

Me my 12 year old self

Sitting on the tortoise statues

At the Phoenix zoo

Feeling the smooth stone

The shape like an ancient tortoise shell

And the real tortoises

In the shade beyond the barrier,

The smell pungent

Their slow movement barely visible

I'm with my grandparents

My mom and dad,

My "little" brother, as tall as me, sits on a turtle too

Even an absent big brother

No zoo for a 15 year old

But he is there still

In my life

In who I was then

All of it is there

I am once again

A girl with grandparents

And parents

A little brother

And big brother always off on his own--

Even from 54--my parents gone my grandparents gone

My brothers no where near my everyday life-

When these things come out of the ether

The sun is just as hot and bright

The smell of animal dung sharp

Reality

Again

As always?

I am still 12 years old

And also 54

And 84 and a newborn greeting the world

All at once

Spectacular dimensions

Unknowing but there

We feel it in the moment

And it lives,

lingers,

ever ever

There.

Know What?

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Joan) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:22:00 +0000

What do we know ?

The sifting sands

Tell a tale

But do we know

The answer?

Can we comprehend our

Life in relation to what we can be versus what we are?

I jump to the monumental

In the space of a practical

Contemplation

Where does it all lead to?

Neferious and inconclusive

But that is the truth

And it is what we are