Posted in art, Music, poetry

This Heart that Beats

I wish I knew how to write myself a love letter, wish my arms could wrap around my heart, cradle the weight in my palms and breathe the electricity of the beat, feel the strum of my guitar beneath my fingers, let fly the fear held captive in unbroken tears, and trust that I am beautiful, write that I am beautiful that it doesn’t matter that he couldn’t see it and he couldn’t see it and he couldn’t see it.  I love that I don’t want to pretend that I don’t miss him, heart zipped up, mended as if it had never cracked. I’m mismatched, stitched by time, how some days it disappears and others feel like years, losing moments to old emotions, the fool caught in yesterday,  picking at old scabs.   I wish I could forgive the girl that fell. I want to tell her that I love her and that she should never regret the size of her own heart, her capacity to admire, her courage to feel, her strength to invite him to see her art, even if he couldn’t see it, and he couldn’t see it, and he couldn’t see it.  I want to write myself a love letter, sing my worth, guitar in hand and trust that I am beautiful.   —Leanne Rebecca

I ran out of time today to do everything that I wanted to do. I need to remember that it doesn’t make me a failure, but that my life is full.

Tonight I’m listening to acoustic Sleeping with Sirens and Grizfolk. I want to lose myself in the lyrics like I did yesterday at Warped Tour, closing my eyes and feeling the music of each band, letting it grab hold of my soul and claim a part of me, even for just a second.

I discovered a band called Onward Etc. If there’s one thing you’ll take away from this blog post, it’s to listen to them and find your own poem in their lyrics.

Good night loves.

–Leanne Rebecca

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Posted in honesty, loneliness, poetry

It All

It All  It all hides what I know they know that none of us will say, that connections fade like the end of a song, that no matter how much wine we drink and how many laughs we discover, the ache still penetrates once everyone goes back home.  Some of us pour another glass, write a fucking poem  to keep the room from spinning, some of us sing the same song on repeat until we’ve hit all the stages of grief— pretending we’re not bothered, pretending we’re empowered, falling prey to obsessions that eventually break and that last glass of wine comes back up in perfect cue with the final ringing note and two fingers clutching desperately  to this idea that we can erase our transgressions, and live tomorrow  like we’re not embarrassed, as if we don’t know this is all wrong, and we’re hurting each other, suffering with mouths shut, fucking ourselves wishing the whole time he’d call and that I could be a better friend and drink less.   We never wanted to hurt you.  We never wanted to hurt ourselves. But we did it anyway because we didn’t know what to do when the song ended and the produced track fell silent and all we were left with was an empty bottle and an empty bed and no one to tell us what was right.

I used to write all the time, even when I didn’t have a poem in mind. I was a regular at a couple cafes and coffee shops and would set aside blocks of time to make myself at home in their booths, put my feet up, and figure out something to say that day. I can’t write like that anymore, can’t draw inspiration from nothing, concoct a story or rework a random memory into anything with any meaning. These days I only write when I have no choice, when something is going through my mind that I need to get out, and that itch to write is so consuming that I won’t be able to sleep until it’s out.

Today was about obsession. I listened to the same song on repeat all day long. I’m not kidding. This isn’t an exaggeration. I’m not so secretly crushing on the band’s frontman and I can’t get enough of it. The song, “In the End” by Black Veil Brides, is a metal anthem that begs for attention. There’s a reason the video has 49 MILLION views on YouTube. Today I added a couple more hundred to that count. After a day like that, trapped in the grips of passion, the outpouring of emotion, the crying of an entire generation summed up in about 4 minutes, I needed to write a poem. I NEEDED to write a poem. I needed my voice heard too.

Tonight I feel like I could write forever.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in Music, poetry

The Biggest Disappointment

The Biggest Disappointment   He never knew the real me— the first year too nervous to say the wrong thing, the second pretending to be something else so he would see me as whatever it was he wanted that wasn’t me, trapped in someone else’s poetry, obsessed with this image, starving my integrity, my body, to play a game he didn’t want to play until I pushed and pulled so hard that I lost the one person that understood that words are not just words, ever, lost, before he even heard me.

We all make mistakes. Some carry a little more weight than others and the consequences rain harder. There’s no trick to overcoming mistakes, except maybe to let go of regret.

I went to a Matt and Kim concert last night. They have this one song called “Now” that sums it up perfectly:

I know that things aren’t perfect
But lets make tonight worth it
Stand up right here take a bow
And we will all ride this thing down
Now

All we can do is move forward and accept our imperfections, accept our mistakes, and try with all our might to not make the same ones again. No guarantees though, and that’s ok. For now, make the most of today.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in honesty, poetry

Glory One Day

Glory One Day  The oppression formed a mushroom cloud around my entire body, trapping years of everything I couldn’t say in smog laden prison. I suffocated from the inside out, suppressed by the need to control every breath, every swallow, obsessing like a hypochondriac, everything was wrong and nothing.   I needed your permission to open my soul to the world outside of me, to not feel consumed  by the ashes of regrets  and stop fighting  just stop  and find the glory of staring mistakes in the eye, owning their weight with faith that one day I’ll learn to let them fade, lifted by release.

This weekend I saw Paramore, one of my favorite bands, play at the Beale Street Music Festival in Memphis. I was moved to literal tears by the set and turned to my friend and said, “it’s crazy how much I relate to their music.” My friend looked me in the eye and said, “Leanne, it’s not crazy because we all feel that way.”

We all go through struggles, many of them more similar to the stranger sitting next to you than you might realize. We all go through cycles of making mistakes, growing, learning, and discovering glory on the other side of the darkness we never thought we’d find our way out of. Stay strong my friends and don’t be so hard on yourselves.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Dissonance

Dissonance It’s sexy- the tension in his voice that infuses each note with dichotomy— masterful but not easeful, as if he’s lamenting inner conflict in gravel-laden imperfection. I’m drawn to the impurity lacing his words like a birth mark—unique to him, a signature interrupting the underlying smoothness of his skin.  It turns me on, the dissonance of his poetry, the fluidity of his screaming, the crying of his passion. I listen again, falling into imagination’s cloud— who is the boy that owns that voice, that aches his story on the radio?

I’ve been on a Ghost Town kick lately. I first discovered the band about a year ago, listened a little, but for whatever reason wasn’t hooked. However a few weeks ago one of my friends made me a playlist with their song “Acid” on it. It’s a track I admittedly repeat over and over again as I’m driving. You could call me obsessed. The vocals draw me in almost like junk food. I just want more!! It got me thinking, what is it about certain songs or certain voices that attract different ears? For me, it’s the grit, the pain behind the sound. I’d always rather listen to something messy that throws emotion in your face than something perfected with stereotypical beauty. We all have our own preferences though, and mine certainly change with the seasons.

Happy Saturday!

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, Music, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

Quiet

Quiet  It’s the stillness that scares me, when time collects in a jar and thoughts settle like dust, caking every blink, every swallow, every breath with extra weight, a heaviness that enslaves the body like an anchor strapped to an ankle, chained, trapped ruminating in one room inside the mind, consumed by the freedom to think, suffocating in the privilege of thought, the torture hidden in the violence of quiet.

The last couple days have been action packed. For one, it was my birthday on Thursday. Secondly, I went on my first business trip. In other words, I grew up a little in the past 48 hours. I like keeping myself busy because it allows for optimum productivity and fun, sticking by the cliche of living every day like it’s my last. But every once and awhile I’m forced into solitude–the three hours I hung out in the airport yesterday and the subsequent three hours on the plane. It’s those moments, when I’m by myself, that the world feels big , and I’m invisible, just an ant in the crowd. Sure, quiet can feel calming at times, like when I curl up with a notebook and spill my feelings, but that’s the kind of quiescence I choose, the kind of quiet that begs for reflection. I wish I could remember to savor that sensation of stillness and learn to live devoid of loneliness. My company should be enough.

This one’s inspired by “Car Radio” by Twenty One Pilots. Quiet is violent.

Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Two

Two

It’s Twenty One Pilots’ Saturday on She’s in Prison and I’m officially running out of TOP songs to steal the titles from (gasp!). This one’s about options, aptly titled after the song “Two.” We’re all faced with options, some tough, some not. The dilemma isn’t the option but rather the choice that goes with it. Sometimes choosing seems impossible.

Have a great Saturday!

Posted in art, Music, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

Forest

Forest

Hello! I realize it’s been a few more days than normal since my last poem. I admit I’ve been feeling a little out of sorts when it comes to writing–not writer’s block necessarily, but more of a needed break to simply breathe. I also realize that as such I skipped yet another Twenty One Pilots inspired piece for my Saturday series. Ooops. To make up for it I’m posting it today. I think this poem is a little more like the stuff I wrote in the early days of She’s in Prison and less like the ones as of late. Regardless, thank you for stopping by for a little verse on this lovely day.

Check out Twenty One Pilots’ version of “Forest” too if you have a second. I’m feeling particularly stoked about TOP at the moment because I just purchased tickets (literally 5 minutes ago) to an upcoming show this summer. WOOHOOOOO!

Happy Easter. Happy Sunday. Happy Passover. Happy day.

Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Precarious

Precarious

The word of the day is ‘precarious.’ I caught myself relying on its beauty multiple times this morning, so clearly, I needed to write a poem based upon it. This one’s inspired by “Basically, I” by Robert Delong. I discovered his music a little less than a year ago and I remain a fan. He’s a cool dude, too. Thanks for taking a break from your Sunday to stop by for a little poetry.

Posted in art, Music, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

Clear

ClearConfidence is a weird thing–how it can come and go–how it presents itself at the strangest times–how it fails at crucial moments–and how it’s a bit abstract. I feel the most confident when I’m in front of a notebook with headphones in, rocking out to my favorite music. I’m not trying to hide behind the headphones, but rather enjoying the bliss of my favorite songs in my ears. If you’ve visited She’s in Prison before, you know that music permeates almost all of my poetry, especially that of Twenty One Pilots. I’ve been feeling a little disconnected to them lately since I retired the Josh Dun Poetry Corner and I also haven’t been to a show since October. Regardless, today’s poem is inspired and named after their song “Clear.” Take a look at all my TOP titled archives and give a listen to their version of “Clear” below.

Happy Saturday! Hit me up on Twitter folks 🙂

 

Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Protection

Protection

“Between Your Lines” is hands down my favorite Chunk! No, Captain Chunk song, so obviously, I had to write a poem inspired by it. I wrote this one awhile ago, but the time never felt right to publish it. Today seemed to fit for some reason.

Anyway, thanks for checking out my strings of words and taking a moment out of your busy life for a poetry break. Have a great rest of your weekend!

Posted in art, Music, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

Slowtown

SlowtownIt’s Saturday, it’s sunny, and I just ate an enormous vegan peanut butter cup from one of my favorite places in St. Louis (see my twitter or instagram for reference). What I’m getting at is that it’s a perfect time for a poetry break, especially when it’s inspired by a Twenty One Pilots song. “Slowtown” is off their Regional at Best album, which sadly, is hard to get a copy of. No matter; give a listen from good ol’ YouTube below.

Check out all my poetry titled after TOP songs in my archives and stop by again soon for more poetic musings inspired by music.