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danijordan
I'm trying, I promise.
20 Posts • 69 Followers • 62 Following
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danijordan

My friends, the wildflowers

I am friends with wildflowers.

Though the breeze carries them

far and wide

I do not worry.

For they are the wildflowers

and they store loveliness in each petal.

They are strong and firmly rooted.

They grow and grow through uncertainty.

They are the wildflowers.

I smile as I see glimpses of their grace

in the faces of those around me

in books I read

in songs I sing

through the pen that puts words on this page.

I see the wildflowers.

Spreading vibrancy and life

as they float on the wind.

Creating new wildflowers.

They do not rely on circumstance,

They are circumstance.

They are the wildflowers.

& I know, no matter how far away from me they grow

they are still beatiful, still lovely, still living.

Because we are the wildflowers.

& we won't cease to grow

until the world is full

of color.

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danijordan

no one quite knew what to make of the moon anymore

My favorite of the originals I've written

https://soundcloud.com/dani-jordan-lee/no-one-quite-knew-what-to-make-of-the-moon-anymore

Lyrics

Verse 1:

The moon outside sits heavy and full

but I, inside, am empty

I scream to feel you pull me in

but I know you won't ever hear me

Chorus: 

Walk with me

those nights I can't fall asleep

stay with me

my mind, for you, to keep 

Verse 2:

Your vacancy, crawling under my skin

Retracing where you had been

The light, once bright, now dim.

I can't ever win

Chorus

Verse 3:

Moonlight peaks through the branch and leaves

Reveal my inadequacies

I am an open vessel on a rough and stormy sea

Use me as you please

Modified Chorus: 

Walk with me

those nights you can't fall asleep

stay with me

my mind is breaking at the seams

Walk with me 

those nights you can't fall asleep

stay with me

my mind, for you, to keep. 

#original #song #songwriter #moon #soundcloud

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danijordan in Music and Rap

no one quite knew what to make of the moon anymore

I'm still new to this whole songwriting thing, check it out please! 

https://soundcloud.com/dani-jordan-lee/no-one-quite-knew-what-to-make-of-the-moon-anymore

Lyrics

Verse 1:

The moon outside sits heavy and full

but I, inside, am empty

I scream to feel you pull me in

but I know you won't ever hear me

Chorus: 

Walk with me

those nights I can't fall asleep

stay with me

my mind, for you, to keep 

Verse 2:

Your vacancy, crawling under my skin

Retracing where you had been

The light, once bright, now dim.

I can't ever win

Chorus

Verse 3:

Moonlight peaks through the branch and leaves

Reveal my inadequacies

I am an open vessel on a rough and stormy sea

Use me as you please

Modified Chorus: 

Walk with me

those nights you can't fall asleep

stay with me

my mind is breaking at the seams

Walk with me 

those nights you can't fall asleep

stay with me

my mind, for you, to keep. 

Challenge
Writing with Authenticity 100-300 words. No rhymes accepted.
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danijordan

Doesn’t Bother Me

It’s happening again.

I can feel my eyeballs

In their sockets. 

My skin is too tight.

My hands contort themselves

As I try to give my bones

More room.

But it doesn’t bother me anymore.

I’m cold,

And I shake.

I’m warmer,

I still shake.

It doesn’t bother me anymore.

Whispering

He assures me,

That surely

He will shield me

From the shrieks

And screams coming from

Between my ears.

That self-destructive voice

Barks at him to

Leave me alone.

The look in his eyes breaks

Open the flood gates in my own.

But it doesn’t bother me anymore.

The dam is broken I

want to die I want to die I want to die

plays on a loop

behind my eyes

like nails on a chalkboard I

drag my own

and stain my arms and legs red

and he’s trying I think

a muffled voice

as if he’s speaking into a pillow

and I’m on the moon

waiting for a moment

of stillness

like driving under a bridge

in the pouring rain

but the road is open

and the drops hit the

windshield like a barrage of

bullets and I pray

for a stray to go

through my skull

It doesn’t.

I writhe.

But it doesn’t bother me anymore.

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danijordan in Poetry & Free Verse

wildflowers and weeds.

Wildflowers and weeds 

are growing in the corner

of my back porch.

We haven't stepped out there

since we moved in last summer

when we kept the windows opened 

and sunlight flooded the hardwood floors.

They don't need 

love or attention,

maintenance,

or care.

They sprout,

regardless.

Now up to my waist,

they've made it on their 

own. 

When I gaze out through my kitchen window,

they stare back at me.

As if for to flaunt their growth.  

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danijordan in Poetry & Free Verse

side effects may include.

Behind closed eyes

you're not the person

who I love

As the sun lays down to rest

apart from earthly things

and the thoughts that make up my conscious being

create a cacophony, undistinguished

My grasp on reality loosens 

until it is no longer 

in reach

lullaby--  

when you lie

here

you'll always

lose. 

I watch myself from above

trembling in my sleep.

Cold sweat dripping down my legs

eyelids fluttering

unopened. 

Going deeper in

everything is wrong

Your being encompassed

through your absence 

You're not who you're supposed to be

I kick the blankets off. 

lullaby-- 

when you lie

here

you'll always

lose. 

Outside, streetlights

cast their shadows 

as the stillness of the moon

floats like a halo up above.

The fluorescent humming is deafening

if only it were enough.

Neither the rising of the sun

nor the ethereal rays

piercing cracks in the blinds

could ever

make sense of it.  

Behind closed eyes

everything I know

fades to static. 

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danijordan in Poetry & Free Verse

the fluidity of grief

It's not something that ever really ends.

He left that day with no warning.

No hint of conflict or unhappiness

and when he left, he took a part of you with him.

And now you trudge along,

bare-feet on the hardwood floor

lifeless eyes gazing, everything familiar,

but nothing the same.

His hands, his strong, gentle hands

have touched everything you touch.

You remember this as you stare into the sink

and reach to turn the faucet on.

There's a patch of counter space that is clear of dust

where his mouthwash used to sit.

The outline, clear.

Your skin

Your skin is infected

because there is not a place where his hands

have not caressed.

So you scratch and scratch

deeper and deeper

trying to dig him out

and your tears wash over your face

and your hiccuping cry echoes through your now-empty

studio apartment.

Then there's stillness.

One day, months later

your scabbed arms have scarred over.

The counter top has been cleaned and

collected new dust particles

his skin cells no longer a part of it.

You smile in the mirror and dance softly on the hardwood floors.

Your heart is still heavy, but not as.

You remember the imperfections and not just

the perfectness.

How in the later days, his eyes

were a different shade of green

his voice

a different key that no longer

harmonized with your

own.

Then time stops

when you find one of his socks under your bed.

You hold that sock

and you cry.

You cry hard.

Every emotion comes rushing back

and even though it's probably a good thing

that the smell of your house has taken over

the smell of sweat

you curse the air around you for stealing

the only smell you had left of his presence

you breathe in deeply

as your sobs fill your apartment

and the grief that had once became a part of you

that you thought was drying up

comes flooding back

in a new wave.

Challenge
CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you.
The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for 24 consecutive hours. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #ProseChallenge #itslit for sharing online.
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danijordan

Love Thy Neighbor

Said the Father to his children,

"Let all that you do be done with love."

Unconditionally, to everybody,

helping others rise above.

When I was young

a sadness lived

deep in me

tearing apart my skin.

I ached and bled

and begged for death

refusing to let anyone in.

Now as I recover,

I hope I can

change the way

things work.

Because no matter

where a person comes from

love is the least they deserve.

For from love, compassion flows

spreading like a virus.

Get to know your brother, from what he needs

to the color of his iris.

Love trumps hate, as we know

and thus love shall be upheld.

As a moral compass, strive for it,

help others do good and be well.

I could be a genius, a prodigy

the most talented the world has seen.

But without love, what good is it.

Happiness, from me, will flee.

But with love, we can heal the broken

the weary, and the bruised.

Embrace and praise and give freely,

what do you have to lose?

So, therefore, children, go out and love

let the fire of compassion burn.

And when you love, you deserve

to be loved in return.

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danijordan

Hula

When I dance, I don't just dance

I feel it.

And as cringe-worthy as that sounds,

I mean it.

The stage-smile, plastered on the faces of those around me

comes to an end when it reaches me.

On my face

is a goofy grin

holding back giggles of

pure joy.

My hands tell the story just

as much as my face,

just as much as the ukulele

just as much as the implements

just as much as the singer.

Yesterday's sadness is gone

The stress of school,

all my responsibilities,

my inadequacies,

my insecurities,

gone--

once I step into the studio. Once

that first chord strums

and I stand:

hip to the left, right foot pointed out.

Left hand, center of chest

Right hand extended at 45 degrees.

My smile reaches my eyes and I feel it

down to my bare feet.

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danijordan in Poetry & Free Verse

as good as real

For Christmas every year,

I asked for a puppy.

a true companion who would never leave

my side.

When I was seven,

a brown package teared open

to reveal a soft, brown, adorable puppy

stuffed animal.

I named her Darby,

we became best friends.

With an imagination like 7-year-old me,

it was blissful.

We ran, we played fetch,

I fed her my scraps.

I'd take her for walks around the block

but all my neighbors would see

was a little girl

dragging a filthy stuffed dog

on a string tied like a noose

around the poor dog's neck.

When we'd go out,

my mother would beg me to leave

Darby at home, in my room, on my bed.

What kind of dog owner would I be

if I had listened.

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