Posted in art, creative writing, poetry

Making Sense of It.

Making Sense of It.  A sheet divides the ramblings of my desires and the secrets beneath his ribs.  I see the shadows of his hungers through the fabric, obscured intentions taunting when the light hits.  Neither of us speak, playing the game, pursuing, hunting, manipulating.   I only know what I feel.

This one may not be about what you think it is. Just consider it.

Have a great weekend!

–Leanne Rebecca

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Posted in art, poetry, writing

Tiny Brains

Tiny Brains  It was a Sunday night, the day before Labor Day.   We laid on the ground outside of the bowling alley.  She sat on the curb first. I mimicked her artistry, knees crumpling,  muscles oozing like jelly, slinking to the ground in a glob until I’d surpassed sitting and settled on horizontal stargazing.   We played out the therapy session, a cement couch counting the justifications— why I texted him,  why she felt betrayed— we vomited honesty, beer-numbed confessions of hearts the size of our confusion, the hearts that led us to fall on our backs in a parking lot and brains too small to sit on a bench.

Katie, this one’s for you.

I’ve gathered from my Facebook newsfeed that Monday was rough. Too many hearts and brains are fighting. Thank God it’s Tuesday, folks. Call a truce, and then celebrate with pancakes.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Promises

Promises

Every Saturday I eat lunch at the same place. The entire staff knows my name and my regular order. I can’t tell you how many poems I’ve posted on here have been scribbled while eating a Frida burger with headphones in my ear, downing cup after cup of their delicious fruit infused water. I feel inclined to say this one’s no exception, except it is. I didn’t even eat the day I wrote this. I opted for a smoothie. I don’t know what that means or why I felt I needed to share my dietary habits, but maybe there’s a significance to it.

Regardless, this poem is inspired by Love is a Story’s cover of “Hide and Seek” originally by Imogen Heap. I must have listened to it 10 times on repeat in the course of writing this poem and in those minutes of absolute focus, I wasn’t in Fridas Deli anymore. I was skipping through daydreams. That’s why I love writing: there aren’t any rules.

Have a great Sunday and come back next week for more musically inspired poetry!

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

Be Concerned

Be ConcernedThis week I’ve favored the word “melancholy,” not quite feeling sad, not quite feeling happy, not quite sure what I want, conflicted, comfortable, and on edge all at the same time. This melancholy state has allowed me to take a few moments of introspection and reflect upon my goals, my hopes, and my confidence. Hearing the Twenty One Pilots song “Be Concerned” this morning, I felt drawn to the dichotomy of the music: the sense of purity that contrasts with the raw verse of the rap. I listened a couple times, and then before even perceiving that I’d picked up a pen, I’d written a poem.

Thanks for stopping by. If you have a second, check out the archives of all my Twenty One Pilots inspired poetry and give a listen to their music below. Also, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. What are you feeling conflicted about right now?