tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204Mon, 02 Sep 2024 08:05:41 +0000Lovefeelingspainfriendspoetrybroken heartlyricsfriendshipmemoriesquotesRainemotionswritingDreamsSummerblogginglossstrengthforgivenessfreedommorningcaringfearfightinspirationlifemistakesmoving onmusicrelationshipself-reflectionweaknessDecisionschoicescryingloversmoviespassionregretssocial tiessongartexistencefuturegood byesheartachehomeinner strugglelostmindmissing youtrustwordsArundhati RoyAsha AliErykah BaduKeaneThe God of Small Thingsbetrayalbookscoffee shopcold-heartednesscolorconversationcreativitydatingdrivingfailureguilthealinghopelisteningmaking upmeetingpartingphone callphotographyproserandom throughtsrealityrisksafetysecretssunrisethankfulnessthanksthe truthuncertaintyunderstandinguniquenessyou11111:112 a.m.311AfricaAmericanAmy LeeAngelique Kidjo and Josh GrobanAntoine de Saint-ExuperyAugustBefore SunriseBird YorkBrandi CarlileBreaking upC.S. LewisCain's BloodCaptain WentworthCeasefireChicagoCoffee and CigarettesDorothee SolleEmerald CityEmiliana TorriniEmmanuel JalErykah Badu and Stephen MarleyEvanescenceExodusGuaHenry Millon De MontherlantHigh FidelityI left my heart in KenyaIn the deepIncubusJane AustenJohn MayerJohn PatrickJulyJunctionJuneKT TunstallKarim ChrobogKatiaKvitka CisykLenaLucas KellisonMind vs. HeartMinnie RipertonMusic and lyricsNnekaNyaruachODOscar WildeOther Side of the WorldPearlsPersuasionPeter PanRussian movieSadeSalt Lake CitySarah Ban BreathnachShameSouth SudanSouthern SudanSteve McqueenStock.XCHNGSunday morningsTerenceThe Four LovesTom Waits and Iggy PopWar childWarchildWest Coastabre los ojosactivismadeleadventureairportsall or nothingangerapologyapple pieargumentarteriesautumn morningavoiding truthawakeningbad choicesbattlebeing true to yourselfbeing yourselfbest friendsbeyoncebitternessblack and whitebookboring writersbrick and steelbridgebrokenbroken friendshipbus ridecall hercar washcarefulnesschasing pavementschild soldiercityclarityclimb to heavencloudsclouds in my eyescoffee housecoldcollisioncommitmentcompromiseconcrete jungleconfessionconfessionsconflicts withinconsciencecop carcosmic vibescravingcreative processcrimedancingdangerdeathdeceitdeceptiondecisiondeliberately lostdelusiondeserving youdirectionsdirectory listingdistractionsdocumentarydon't belongdon't take life too seriouslydots on the mapdoubtdoubtsegoelusive dreamemotional lossemptinessempty streetsendless summerenduranceenvironmentexpecting perfectionfake freedomfallfallingfarmer's marketfear of happinessfear of losing freedomfearsfighterfireflightflirtfloatingfortune cookiesfreefree photosfree spiritfreecyclefreecyclingfreedom dreamfreenessfresh startfriends foreverfrom abovefunfurygamut of emotionsgirlfriendsgiving backgraffitigreat belowgreat watersgunshaircutshallelujahhappinessheartheartbeatheartshellohigh stakeshigher goalhip hophis contagious laughterhis sweet embracehis worldhonestyhurts to be in the middleideasif I were a boyif we are to live in a better worldimageindependenceinside an hourglassinstitution of marriageinteresting benchesjourneyjust in casekindnesskitchen we shareknowledgelack of compassionlack of trustlearningliberationlight and darklightslistenlonely dogslongitudes and latitudeslooklosing connectionlost boys of Sudanlost sense of goodlovers rockmeaning of lifememorialmemorymindsmissingmorning papermosquito netmovie reviewmovingmr. coolmr. tallmuddy footprintsmy worldnaïve beliefsnecklacenegativityneighborhoodsnever grow upnever hurt hernightnightlifeno blindsno regretsnonprofit movementnot the Neverlandnot too proudnothing superficialobituaryoceanon and onon the edge of a dreamon the way homeon the wind’s backopen mindopen your eyesour songoverdoseoverwhelmedpaintingparentspathspeaceperceptionpinkie promisepolaritypostingpridepromiseprosaic thingsragerealizationreasonrecyclingreleasedresponsibilityreunionreviewroofsambucassandboxschool shootingsscrambled eggssecrets we both knowseeking inspirationsharing an orangeshatteredshed your prideshould have stayed longershow her she's specialsilence with no tensionsky shotsskype chatsnailso you think you are freesoccersocial lifesolitudesomething realsongssoulsoulssouth sidespiritsstraightforwardnessstrange questionsstuff that makes you feel good about yourselfsummer songtalktearsthe nights I crythe onethe reflection of warthese monthsthink of me when you rhymethinkingthinking out loudthrow yourself offtimetipping pointto do listtoo good to be truetravelingtrue lovetrying to be a better persontunestwigsuncomfortable questionsundecidedunpredictabilityvegetarianismvigilancewaitingwarweatherwhat if he was the onewhere is home anywaywithdrawalwolfwoodsworkyour place<p> <b>"This is a blog that soothes the soul and strengthens the heart"<br> - EatonWeb</b></p>http://journabble.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.com (Jules)Blogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-907521840606285406Sat, 16 Nov 2013 01:55:00 +00002013-11-15T19:55:20.397-06:00being true to yourselfcommitmentcompromisedoubtsfear of losing freedomfearsgamut of emotionsindependenceinstitution of marriagethe onetrue love<!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> http://journabble.blogspot.com/2013/11/to-love-or-to-be-free.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-989335783741455356Sun, 15 Jul 2012 06:52:00 +00002013-10-11T22:53:07.731-05:00deserving youmissing youoceanpainRainskype chatWest Coast The empty bar hangs over a cliff, and in between beer sips and a quiet talk with a couple of friends on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I watch the rain hug the window panes. It goes on like an endless string of silver, only to end a second later, eaten by the angry ocean below. The water drums are complemented by the sad melody of the wind attempting to make shortcuts through the cracks in the roof. http://journabble.blogspot.com/2012/07/missing-you.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-8567159264868196622Fri, 06 Jul 2012 20:19:00 +00002012-07-15T01:55:23.092-05:00brokenhopeLoveshatteredFor a second there you gave me hope. You lifted me up, and for one brief flicker of a moment you made me believe again. And then you walked away, as cruel as ever. I fell so abruptly and hit the ground so hard, that my entire being shattered into a million little pieces, each one a reflection of your heart. Do you really love her? Please tell me that it's only a passing whim. Lie to me if you http://journabble.blogspot.com/2012/07/for-second-there-you-gave-me-hope.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-7693134972689424776Mon, 02 Jul 2012 21:21:00 +00002012-07-02T16:46:31.035-05:00broken heartCaptain WentworthDreamsemptinesshopeJane AustenLovepainPersuasion “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago… I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant…For you alone, I think and plan. Have you nothttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2012/07/i-can-listen-no-longer-in-silence.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-9064664526021514707Tue, 07 Feb 2012 07:08:00 +00002012-07-02T16:48:32.141-05:00creativityinspirationtimewriting I miss the time when my pen would touch the paper and just run with its own strange effort, at its own pace, as if some knowledge of me was fundamentally laid into its ink, some knowledge I didn’t have, but the pen did. I miss the time when I didn’t write poetry... when poetry wrote me. It wrote my life, because my life was reasonably paced, paced well enough for my thoughts to have the time http://journabble.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-miss-times-when-my-pen-would-touch.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-8154495229398148939Mon, 06 Feb 2012 07:35:00 +00002012-07-02T17:00:33.713-05:00friendshiphis worldlifeLovememoriesmy worldthe truthwork I wrote this a while ago but never found it good enough to post. It's not my best piece of writing but it's an honest one, hence I think it deserves the right to be. He is no longer in my life. I have worked with others since then, I had better friends since then, I've loved stronger since then, and I laughed, and cried, and lived, and broke hearts, and was left brokenhearted. But an http://journabble.blogspot.com/2012/02/once-upon-time.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-5524737858499543894Wed, 14 Sep 2011 15:40:00 +00002012-02-06T01:07:49.235-06:00collisionideasthinking out loudunpredictabilityWords fell into their places as I started concentrating on social ties — things that drive us in the same direction, or away from each other, or toward one another until we collide. When you look more into people, you start seeing more of yourself. I think it takes a sync of minds to sooth a soul, but it often takes a collision of minds to spark an idea. Why can’t we be as happy on our own as we http://journabble.blogspot.com/2011/01/collision.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-6696432446052917678Tue, 07 Jun 2011 22:42:00 +00002012-02-06T01:08:00.448-06:00dancingLovelovers rockSadeA gentle screech of the gate tells me you are here, and only the dense shrubs entangled in the darkness of the garden separate us from each other’s arms.Your face glows in the soft light of a single candle, your eyes are smiling, you carry some food in your hand. I can’t live another second without feeling the warmth of your embrace. We have a little picnic on the floor, eating pizza, watching http://journabble.blogspot.com/2011/06/lovers-rock.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-8925115122380125123Sun, 28 Feb 2010 07:00:00 +00002012-02-06T00:58:39.583-06:00confessionI see the rain, and a car full of people, and suppressed tears in the corners of my eyes. "You will come back," she whispers kindly, and deep in my heart, I know I will. She jokes with me as she cuts your birthday cake, days after my return. We cheer to a great year ahead... a year full of surprises.We share an unexpected work trip, some eight hours in a bus that feel like a lifetime. You tell mehttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/12/confession.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-1219340014080428538Fri, 12 Feb 2010 17:36:00 +00002012-02-06T00:59:19.663-06:00blogginglonely dogsSunday morningsIn the backroads of my mind, where gravel meets the fallen leaves in a gentle touch, you are lost somewhere in between the windy sky and the earth, moist from the rainy yesterday. You are holding my hand in a sweet attempt to keep it warm. Who are you?I know this is silly, a digitalized feeling of a sort, a quick note in my phone, one of many saved during countless traffic jams of Nairobi. I http://journabble.blogspot.com/2010/02/unforget.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-3947501217526432130Mon, 17 Aug 2009 16:35:00 +00002011-09-14T11:50:46.581-05:00Bird Yorkclimb to heavenconflicts withinexpecting perfectionIn the deepkitchen we sharelyricsshed your pridethrow yourself offWe expect a lot from each other, and it’s in that expectation of perfection that our arguments are born. We don’t understand each other. We look at each other with that tired look of the world on our shoulders, mountains climbed behind, oceans to swim ahead. We are so different that despite all outside efforts to combine us, we can never become one. Yet a string so strong holds us together, we http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/08/now-you-are-out-there-livin-in-deep.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-3786804022226092961Sun, 07 Jun 2009 13:52:00 +00002012-02-06T01:08:48.216-06:00Augustendless summerJulyJunemissing youphone callpoetrywaitingI’ll come in August, He declaresEach sound reflectedIn a rain poolOf endless summerWords get trappedIn maze of thoughts Blended with dreamsDiluted quickly By the realJune’s proving busyShe reflectsTrying to maskThe notes of fear that JulyWill last foreverDrops of moist On fingertipsTension withinKnowing that August ends too soonAnd then?Listening to Pretty Wings by Maxwellhttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/06/waiting.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2816408234049206164Mon, 25 May 2009 19:40:00 +00002009-05-25T15:08:27.854-05:00all or nothingcravingmorningmosquito netODoverdosewithdrawalYou give me an injection of care, a dose just big enough to last a day. But like any other drug, the one you are giving me can be unsafe. You give too much sometimes, deliberately or not; you overdose me. “You sleep babe. I arrived safe,” my phone is beeping through the wall of mosquito netting. I can’t sleep. My mind is high on you, and this overdose gives me cravings. I’m dreading the http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/05/od.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-3891539922750611828Tue, 19 May 2009 23:53:00 +00002012-02-06T01:00:18.094-06:00distractionsfeelingshigher goalmissing yousecrets we both knowIf only I could tell you the truth, I’d tell you how much I miss you. I’d tell you how much it hurts to suppress that thought. I’d tell you how my chest is about to explode all too often from the tension within. I’d tell you how I eat on the go and work late hours, till I pass out of fatigue, not allotting my mind a single free minute to think of us. I’d tell you how understanding of our work andhttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/05/how-do-you-start-story-that-never-ends.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2379600972101445016Fri, 17 Apr 2009 21:17:00 +00002009-04-17T16:21:15.081-05:00homelostthe nights I cryMy world is falling apart. I am in a new place, surrounded by new people, but they are not taking bricks out of my walls. My world is falling apart for different reasons. I am surrounded by laughter and phone buzz and road bumps as I fly though the day, and this busyness is making me happy. It’s when my head touches the pillow and the thoughts of work finally slip away, one by one, that I feel http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/04/homeless.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-4602625801132181372Tue, 10 Mar 2009 18:30:00 +00002012-02-06T00:50:45.091-06:00cosmic vibesdon't take life too seriouslymr. coolmr. tallsandboxundecidedThere are Mr.Tall & Mr. Cool. They are both tall and cool, but Mr. Tall is taller, and Mr. Cool is cooler. Sorry, I am having fun here. I guess I could say her heart is spit in two, but she’s not sure if any of this is deep all the way to the heart. Her mind said it was too busy to process new drama. She misses Mr. Tall, thinking about him every now and then. He messed up (they all do sooner or http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/03/ms-undecided.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-1073082584404439144Fri, 06 Mar 2009 13:11:00 +00002012-02-07T03:41:36.908-06:00concrete junglegreat belowhigh stakeshis contagious laughterhis sweet embraceno regretssilence with no tensionwhat if he was the oneSometimes memories come out of nowhere. In a pure world, certain ones would have been marked with guilt. In real life, there's often no sorry close enough to reach for. Then again, maybe it's better to stay pure of fake regrets. A night like this pulls me out onto a dim porch, makes a spark in the darkness and points to the concrete jungle below. That's when the thoughts of him come knocking http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/03/great-below.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-8170524255445106821Sun, 01 Mar 2009 21:45:00 +00002012-02-06T01:12:29.089-06:00clouds in my eyeshappinessKatiaLenaMinnie Ripertonon the edge of a dreamRussian movieThe ripples run into the sunAnd your smile blends with the clouds that flutter by meAs I sit on the edge of a dreamWhat do I see? What do I see?Why do I write so much when I'm sad, and so little when happy? Am I incapable of describing happiness? Am I afraid to spook it with clumsy words? Or am I too busy being happy, to write?I saw a Russian movie the other day and this dialog got stuck in my http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/03/clouds-reflected-in-my-eyes.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-3431500329661365094Sat, 21 Feb 2009 13:30:00 +00002009-02-21T07:30:01.183-06:00beyoncecall herif I were a boylistennever hurt hernot too proudour songshow her she's specialtrustI would notice the tune we both like and tell her it would be our songI would leave a note on her pillow to remind her she's specialI would find that one word to boost her confidence I would give her my trust, her freedomI would listen... alwaysI wouldn't be too proud to call her if I wanted to hear her voiceI wouldn't forget the things she's passionate aboutI wouldn't hide my feelings if I had http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/if-i-were-boy.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-4590529797660158224Wed, 11 Feb 2009 21:36:00 +00002012-02-06T01:14:12.868-06:00activismdecisiondoubtfightflightfriendshipLovenever grow upnot the Neverlandon the wind’s backpassionpeacePeter PanSouth Sudanthe reflection of wartrustyou“Second to the right, and straight on till morning… I'll teach you to jump on the wind's back, and away we go.”I feel like Wendy right now. You are my Peter Pan, the boy who decided to never grow up. You make faces at me. “Do I look like a ghost?” I giggle and close my eyes, pretending to be scared. You plunge forward at once, trying to pull me after you, off the window overlooking this troubled http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/where-do-you-live-peter.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-6307556766251384502Mon, 09 Feb 2009 23:40:00 +00002009-02-09T18:41:45.261-06:002 a.m.brick and steelbridgeChicagocitycop cardon't belongempty streetsfrom abovegraffitihomelightsneighborhoodsnightquotessouth sideSteve Mcqueen“I would rather wake up in the middle of nowhere than in any city on Earth.” – Steve McqueenI look 33 floors down, at the blinking city lights, savoring the picture for only a moment before jumping back into reality. There it goes. My eyes were flying. My mind was locked in a box. Everything in the waking life is relative. Stare at something for a long enough time, your eyes open wide, and the http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/it-could-have-been-home.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2318213512725297423Fri, 06 Feb 2009 18:30:00 +00002012-02-06T01:16:41.723-06:00111apple piecaringcoffee shopJunctionmemoriesmorningmorning paperno blindsnothing superficialsambucasscrambled eggssharing an orangesomething realyouyour place10:30 a.m.“Was it 110 or 111?” You ask, taking the backpack off my shoulder, stretching your arm in front of me, saving my life once again from the madness of traffic. I keep forgetting that they arrive from the opposite side here.“It’s 111,” I say, unable to conceal a smile. “You almost remembered.”A screeching noise behind us announces a 111 coming to a stop just a moment later. I try to say http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/111.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-4646456339571208358Tue, 03 Feb 2009 07:50:00 +00002009-02-03T04:13:53.796-06:00bookCeasefirechild soldierdocumentaryEmmanuel JalGuahip hopKarim Chroboglost boys of Sudanmovie reviewNyaruachSouthern SudanwarWar childWarchildThree of us were in the room, watching this movie. I was holding my breath, trying hard not to cry. Then I threw a quick glance to my right and saw tears in my friend’s eyes. He’s not a softie by any means. He’s quite a man’s man, in case it draws a better picture of the situation, or the movie.War Child is a documentary about the life of Emmanuel Jal, a hip hop artist in his late 20s, who at thehttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/war-child-2008.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-8940194841073043826Thu, 29 Jan 2009 21:51:00 +00002012-02-06T01:20:47.187-06:00Americancrimegunsjust in caseschool shootingsI glued myself to the wall, trying to walk as far from you as I could in the narrow hallway. Keep that thing away from me. You pressed the trigger. I didn't blink. It wasn't charged. "Now I'm a true American," you said, laughing. The sad reality is that you are right. In fact, you couldn't fit in any better. First the big mortgaged house, now this gun. "Why, why, why in the world," was all I http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-you-bought-gun.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-6774004724335001356Wed, 14 Jan 2009 05:46:00 +00002009-01-14T04:43:20.818-06:00black and whitedelusionfake freedomfreedom dreamlack of compassionlost sense of goodobituarypoetryso you think you are freethe truthLost sense of goodFrocefully takenFrom prideless hands Freedom deprivedPainfully twistedDrained crisply dry Of happy claps They wipe the spillBuoyancy leakage Remains of it -Museum fillerDrenched in the sweat Convened by truthIt’s black and whiteNo in betweenThey touch the realTry to handle itSometimes they doSometimes they weepWake up, world. Wake up to realize that your freedom dream is nothinghttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-you-think-you-are-free.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)5