SAINT+JUDE

patron saint of lost causes...

[saintjudejournal]

"Morning light's turning blue...feeling is bizarre" 🌃🌙💫✨

[saintjudejournal]

Many Moons...

May there be Many More 📸🌙💫✨

[sictransitgloriamvndi]

Monk Meditating near a Ruin by Moonlight (1862 / edited) - Frederik Marinus Kruseman

[theoptia]

Clarice Lispector, from A Breath of Life

[saintjudejournal]

Yeah, yeah, what is it, what is it!?

[saintjudejournal]

loading…🖥️🖱️💫✨

[saintjudejournal]

<title>Hello World.</title>

[saintjudejournal]

AHHH

Perhaps this is what it means to truly be “alive…

NAKED.

cool sheets rubbing against heat scorched skin_____________

rolling, tossing, turning in freshly laundered sheets.

Quiet.

Save for the hummings of the tiny light blue plastic fan...

refrigerator’s fan,

and a kettle with the promise of lemon tea

bubbling bubbling, bubbling

bubbling in the distance.

-saintjudejournal

(journal entry from 07/04/2021)

[saintjudejournal]

Literally just stared out the window and wrote this. 🤷‍♀️

[saintjudejournal]

AGORAPHOBIA; MILD CASE I PRESUME

My room consists of all the things that I could ever bear… my bed, four walls, and things on top of shelves. I sleep wake up to things atop of shelves… I have a thought, I place back on a shelf. I never leave______________ I chained me to my bed. I never leave do turtles leave their shell?

[saintjudejournal]

WHAT US FREAKS HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN ALTERNATIVELY TITLED ‘SATAN SMITING JOB WITH BOILS’

So now you see

your governments lie

No one really know what they’re doing

or what’s really going on.

It’s all subject to change

‘Cept the natural laws.

And your work is not essential except for the ones that really are...

Mother Earth, she weeps.

Tears of pesticidic ash

her valleys and her oceans covered in a sea of trash

And you with all your audacities thinking you can try_____outsmart

Outsmart what was always here?

The arrogance

falls off you and splash

In rivers below, all the creatures slowly clap

as man the great exterminator now answer for his crimes.

This is what us freaks have always known

why we spend all day indoors

running from the morning light;

fasting and preying vampiric creatures of the blackened night.

And it’s almost as if we could smell the rot since birth, stinking up the atmosphere_____

the stench.

Feel it deep inside our bones as if we’ve always known that there would be,

and you can call it what you want;

A reckoning.

A rapture.

A gathering of souls.

Michelangelo’s last judgment played out in A minor ...

keys to the kingdom now long lost.

scales,

In outstretched hands, weighing options

“Satan smiting Job with boils.”

Deep down you must have always known,

(we were not meant to last)

felt it in your bones,

(we were not meant to last)

with the way we all once were

(don’t you think it’s sad how none of this was meant to last?)

we were doomed to end like this.

[saintjudejournal]

The world is coming to an end and I have not yet lived.

I remain

A cicada safely preserved in ember,

Trapped.

in a cocoon of idleness

and self- preserving wit.

My wings, they wither

against the all encompassing storms

From below, people watch___

wonder how it all plays out_____when it’s

Strength, drawn from my own fragility that

carries me on______

How can I go on when I have seen my own mortality?

Seen how it all

plays out.

When in the end, death

the jealous, spiteful lover

grinds us all to dust?

And there’s a storm before the sea of unconsciousness of days that are yet to come.

Blinded by the great fog and grey skies

Lucy, in the skies with dumb luck, nonchalance

Blinded by her own light? She, who

chokes upon the sea of holy scrolls

as mustard gas sets in.

The world is ending and I have not yet lived

I shall never see the sun rise from the top of Mount Kilimanjaro,

Or the shores on which lies pirate's cove.

And I shall live vivaciously through Rimbaud

And those who follow suit,

The heroes of the weary, the hedonists delight

And I shall remain forever in my isolation

A vagabond, enslaved

beneath the walls and shackles that I alone have built.

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN OCTOBER 30th, 2017 at 4:30 PM, EDITED ON AUGUST 2nd, 2020 at 6:12 PM

[saintjudejournal]

Grateful to Bywords for publishing my poem “FIVE YEAR PLAN” as one of 5 for their July issue. I’ve always been pretty low key about my writing and kind of just do it sporadically when the mood hits. It was also my first time submitting a poem anywhere and out of the five I sent, I actually didn’t think this one would get picked lol. I’m not quite sure why they went with this but I’m grateful and for the first time think maybe I should keep at his whole “writing thing” and not be so secretive about it; haha. I also feel like perhaps I should try submitting to other places because ah who knows?

A part of me feels a bit validated since this was something I’d written in a state of frustration... I don’t remember exactly but I can recall vague feelings of disillusionment... you know; classic case of societal expectations and me just been like ah f*ck it, I’ve got a cup of tea and my mind...my imagination, my source of escape which have brought me this far, what else does one need?

Once again, I’m super grateful to Bywards for providing a platform for expression especially in these trying times and if you take one thing from this_______I’m also saying this to myself; just write. Whatever words you have inside of you, let them ‘em out because you never know who you might reach. I’ve always told myself I’d be ok if I’d even reach one person with my writing so while a small step, this for me is a giant leap forward. A nudge on my back to just write; the voice in the back of my head barely a whisper: “keep going.”

You can read “FIVE YEAR PLAN” under the contents tab at http://bywords.ca now.

Bywords publishes poetry, a Calendar of Literary Events, and the Bywords Quarterly Journal. Its aims are to publish emerging and established

[achasma]

The fall of Icarus (detail) from the workshop of Bernard Picart, 1731.

[saintjudejournal]

PARASYTEEE

Something inside me wants to revolt…

it’s been this way ever since I can remember

and now that the world is burning,

something inside me is bored.

  (Stirs, or rather had stirred, returns to sleep soon after)

I stand at the brink…watching it all with a sense of strange fascination, thinking

welp, saw that coming from a mile.

*and shrugs.*

‘this world is not our home

this world is not our home

we’ve got to learn how to dream

create new worlds from dreams’

and the words come back to me barely a whisper.

  But the thing inside me that stirs,

does so every once in a while.

raises her head up to stare_______ 

out the window and it’s too sunny of a day;

blinks once, twice

watches it all with strange apathy and heads back into bed

thinks it’s much warmer here,

cooler, darker too…

and while I think “but we will never grow”

she says “tomorrow is another day”.

And there’s a part of me growing tired of all the constant setbacks, restarts and “do  it all agains”

WAGONWHEEL.

I must have died a million times

I must have lived so many lives

(gats soul of melancholy man lodged within my bones, beats me black blue…)

The thing inside me yawns, blinks and stretches out

The thing inside me is you

we alternate.

and while I’m breathing in, it breathes out.

You revolt against yourself when there is nothing else to revolt.

excerpt from journal entry saturday, april 25th 2020, at 1:32pm.

[saintjudejournal]

Shout out to 2015 me 😅

[saintjudejournal]

View from Mt Royal, Montreal. 2015

also, mood. are we still saying mood?