The Noresoup Jukebox

Runs in the family - The Roches falling short, again from the prescribed way of being, having much to do with my time though only pertaining to the mundane. house rules tend to quiet down right after church night services holy is the silence and holier is the quarrelling mouths at rest. midnight hours spent  trying to keep the trains of thought at bay. it is not enough to be educated or to feel that there is more to life; purpose knocking on my window daring my frail arms to fly. blessings are still in place yet yes, it is so very true. for the other night, I was surprised white auspicious car outside and Mordechai asking me to join the drive. and it reminded me of father I no longer know. and all the times I sat passenger while trouble outside threatened to grow. and the tiny heart settling,  growing thicker and stronger as to leave the car as someone better feeling safer and secure.  gratitude to the love now lost and gratitude to love found elsewhere. even more so, for...

September makes a grand exit showers upon showers my now fairly drenched capris. I grow resentful  as the weather worsens my aching knees but the garden's harvest was so bountiful it placated my anger with ease. short-lived joys, core theme of my rushed September. the evening would bring to my attention missing crystal on my gold ring and a few marks on my ring finger. losses after losses, what a very remarkable September. I had you, then I didn't, and then I had a few others. Then I lost about 100 times trying to propitiate my very darling mother and father, no different, I suppose it is time to leave home for another. What a dream summer had sold me! scammed I was, proper. For in this excruciating autumn, I find no thing in life can cause a stir. Everything dies eventually, these cliché falling leaves. and with them, my childish hope, for fruitful busyness like the buzzing bees. 

Lizzy McAlpine - I Don't Know You At All busy day filled with countless, unexpected additions my fervent to-do list made the most phone calls since spring asking around for space where my big boned frame might fit in. then, I wondered,  who is he really? another round of calls and very rigid promises made I cannot pull away and bring to my family shame though I paid my leave to a few hundred people goodbye, actress no longer then, I wondered, who is he really? so, of course, a phone call to my salula and a few cards with my younger sister all the stupid questions I have not uttered in so very long and they both say the same thing. ride the waves, go with the flow, you seem happy. then, I wondered, why this all feels so silly. salula reminds me  I long dreamed of person I could talk to about the mundane like this very ordinary cup. dreams spoiled by opinions elsewhere landing right on my lap warnings written in pretty cursive saying he's no good for you writing traits of the ma...

God, You must remember me from a while ago. To be precise, a year and 5 very bittersweet months. my face has changed since then do you recall how my countenance twisted in guilt and shame; I am terrible at being a daughter, You, who gave me my mother. Woes, woes, I have moved past thinking  they are all I am made of. I grew out of my mother's wider pout for my father's thinner lips; although I grieve every now and then for the change. And well, I grew into my mother's eclectic eccentricities in living, having adopted a few new friends, and a crowd of admirers; I beseech You, who amongst them might be the man my younger sister dreamt for me? Life is still so very strange,  and the ambiguity only seems to grow with time. What is this life for? I, who have never known. And I saw what they did to Nepal, and all the floods that followed. Yet, here I am, wondering why I was so lonely trying to sit upright with my lost dignity, fear ambushing me against the north wall of my apartm...

happiness is a butterfly - Lana Del Rey well, who's to blame for her nosing around this cat fussing only to find sweet escape in all the butting and bantering; this shiny, feathery wand teaser. and who's to blame the cat for wanting much more than  whatever's shiny on the surface; hunting a moving target this insatiable mind. and who to blame when the cat succeeds? and in doing so, finds out, that the prize was, in fact, rancid, poison for the mind, poison for the mouth. can she perform what God once did transforming this wasted land of bones into something powerful and holy, calling herself Ezekiel? and if she hopes for such a revival, waiting for the bones and tendons to form, will she be ridiculed for not paying heed to warnings when all advised her that there were better men, better land to run to and hunt. how to placate what curiosity brings, cat who was previously yearning, now cat who is heavy with doubts. and just how many masks had the prize worn, for all to tell ...

Alice Phoebe Lou - Angel my mother places her hands on my head prays this holy confrontation dedicates three lines to my ambiguous future and another three to my current disposition point of contention i don't believe God cares to correct attitude or posture well grateful am I still. although this gratitude broke  in the next five very long lines about finding the perfect person  to do this very awful life with. and then, my younger sister dreamt me a bride and a groom who was the least bit dashing. I ask her, "Well, is he rich?" She is quick to spurn. Speaks at length about how  he is made of humility and little riches and I sober up. "Why couldn't you dream up a better man for me? for at least in dreams, they should come easy." Frustration bubbling under both our skins "Oh, but you don't understand! He may have very little, but to him, understanding you comes easy."