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Crazy Times

She never thought the day would come

That the doors would have to be shut

Keeping her from doing what she loves

But it’s crazy times just now

What she does isn’t deemed “essential”

And she knows damn well it’s not quite true

That’s just like beauty

In the eye of the beholder

Crazy to believe it anyways

But she aches to touch

Aches to be touched

Misses the music and the lyrics

The good vibes

The scent of coconut oil on her hands

The feel of another person’s skin

She misses the pulse she feels, the rise and fall of breath

She longs to be needed,to fill the void

To step up and press down

Give her all and get more

It’s crazy how she knows

What to do and when and where to go

But right now

These crazy times

Are keeping her

From doing what she loves

So she’ll make do

In other ways

Hold her breath

Find the treasures

On the ragged edges

And make it through

These crazy times

Until she can do what she was born to do.

👣🧡 Jeanna’ Mead

3.31.20. 6 46 a.m

http://www.jeannasoul.com

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Crazy Daisies

She would rather have

Crazy Daisies in pitchers

Or Mason jars

Instead

She would rather have

Tequila and whiskey

Instead

She would rather be picked up

Taken for a ride

In blue jeans and barefeet

Instead

She would rather receive

A simple bracelet

Handwritten card

Instead

She would rather have

Chocolate kisses

Instead

She would rather be

Taken out for burgers and beer

A little live music somewhere

Instead

She would rather be

Kissed again and again

Instead

She would just wait and see

What will be

Instead

Jeanna’ Mead

6 23 a.m. 2.13.20

http://www.jeannasoul.com

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She Knew

Listening to this song while drinking coffee in Christmas morning

.https://open.spotify.com/track/4z8sz6E4YyFuEkv5o7IJni?si=H-jlAXihRWC4iq1qQieQS.

Mary knew. I’m sure of it.

A woman’s intuition.

She knew and she kissed her baby boy knowing full well she was kissing the face of God.

She wasn’t intimidated. She wasn’t afraid. She was His mother and she did what came naturally. She kissed Him. She loved Him. She held Him and she soothed Him.

She gave Him love and she received love back.

Imagine this, the Lord Jesus snuggling up to His mom, nestling in her embrace, loved and accepted, cherished and wanted.

Mary was filling His needs-for warmth, for food, for shelter, for attention, for compassion, for change (yes, He had to be changed.. yes,even the baby Jesus pooped).

We tend to gloss over some parts but we shouldn’t, it’s the truth.

Babies need to be changed and sometimes it stinks and it’s messy but we do it anyways, because that’s what love does.

Love does what’s necessary and what’s good and what has to be done.

Not just the things that look good and feel good, but the hard things, the tiring things and the things that take time and energy.

Mary knew it had to be done and she did it with love, with intention, and with gratitude that she was the one who was the chosen to do so.

Chosen.

Think about that for a second.

Mary was chosen to be the mother of Jesus.

And she knew it.

She didn’t understand why, but she knew she was.

So she kissed her baby boy and she kissed the face of God and He, in return, kissed her.

Today when you choose to kiss someone, kiss them with the intention and knowledge that you are kissing the face of God, too.

There is truth there.. for each and every person was created by God, for a reason and a plan that He alone understands.

We need to remember this…

Just as Mary gave Love to her baby boy, we need to give love, not just gifts wrapped in paper and tied with ribbons, with tags of a few chosen people.

We need to give love generously, gently, graciously to those people that cross our paths, that come into our lives, that somehow bump into us.

Ever stop and think that maybe, just maybe God chose that meeting, chose that person to come into your life, chose YOU to be the one that’s present and in awe of the chance to give and receive love.

Kind of like Mary was.

I think we know this.

Intuition.

We know that Love is the greatest gift we have.

So please give it, receive it, share it, find it, celebrate it, embrace it and be it.

Choose to be like Mary and choose to be like God .

I think we all want to do this just has we instinctively know that Love is what we should be giving, but we get intimidated and afraid.

We fall back on rules and regulations and on lists and others things.

We choose.

Sometimes we choose not to love, not to give, not to receive, not to embrace and not to be present and in awe.

Isn’t that a shame?

Think about it… A baby needs a mother.. needs to be held and touched, to be nurtured and loved.

It’s that simple.

And really, so is everything else.

Mary knew that.

And so do we, deep down in our soul.

So Merry Christmas, may you love more and be loved more.

Jeanna’Mead

7 32 a.m. 12.25.19

http://www.jeannasoul.com

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Bliss, Snake Oil, and Kisses

She opens up the very last tiny vial

Breathes in the intoxicating scent

That took her back in time

Broke her heart just a little

Made her wonder

And remember

Once upon a time

She stood up on her tippy toes

To reach as high as she could

Held on and let go

All at once

This morning she decided she wouldn’t wait

Any longer

Expect anyone else to know

Her beloved favorites

Scents and words

She had always worn

That she longed to have more

A woman once grabbed her

Pressed her lips

Against her hand

Breathed in and said,

“You smell like a head shop, a little booze and musk… It suits you well”

“It’s mysterious and inviting”

She could only laugh

At the idea

That she was mysterious and inviting

Weren’t those two things a contradiction

At the very least

But secretly she knew

She was someone’s idea of bliss

She was a little too intense

A bit too sensual

Scared a few just a little

Made others long for more

She read lips and minds

Understood the language of the eyes

She laid the stones

Spoke the words

Filled the air with clarity

And sometimes it was a bit too much

A little snake oil, blood kisses, mixed with bliss and twenty one vices

She couldn’t resist any longer

The very last vial had shown her

If she wanted something, she must be the one

Instead of waiting for someone else

She knew herself best

What she wanted to be

Mysterious and inviting

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

6 17 a.m. 12.23.19

(For the giver of Bliss .. Words become art)

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4 o’clock cravings

She’s up at 4 in the morning

Couldn’t ignore the feeling any more

She needed something sweet

Something hot

Something to make it through

To stop the feeling

That woke her up too soon

She poured a cup of coffee

Added a bit of milk and made it sweet

Then reached for the cookies

Peanut butter and chocolate

Heaven help her

Cause she can’t help herself

When there’s a hunger burning inside her

All those good intentions and promises go right out the door

She vowed to make up for it

By doing twice as much

Working even harder

To counteract her 4 o’clock cravings

Lord knows she tries

But she’s only got one life

And if this is one of her vices

Well, heaven help her

Because she can’t help herself

She’ll drink every last drop

Lick her fingers till all trace is gone

Then slide back in

Between the sheets

Satisfied for the time being

Until she wakes up

Craving something else again.

🍪☕♥️👣 Jeanna’ Mead

4 27 a.m 7.14.19

http://www.jeannasoul.com

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Fingerprints

“Values are like fingerprints. Nobody’s are the same, but you leave ’em all over everything you do…” – Elvis Presley

She didn’t quite trust

Her own fingerprints

She wouldn’t use them

To keep her secrets locked in

For fear they would lock her out instead

She felt like her fingerprints had changed

With pressure and time

As she touched other people

Over and over

Over and over,again

Rubbing in love

Rubbing out pain

Leaving parts of her skin

Bits of her soul

In each stroke

No wonder she didn’t quite trust

Her own fingerprints

It seemed like she had

Too much of others carved into her skin

Just like the way she became

Just a little,tiny bit different

With every one she knew

Just enough to make a difference

She became who and what

Was needed at any given moment

Giving parts of her heart

Holding back parts of her body

She felt as if she was covered with the fingerprints of others

Just as surely as she had left her own

Invisible on the skin

Penetrated deep within

Down into the bones

Stained on the soul

Fingerprints

That couldn’t quite be trusted

To hold up in a court of law

But they could be trusted to hold on

To the secrets she kept

intertwined

Overlapped

Buried deep

Burned into

Her very own fingerprints

That she didn’t trust

To look the same

Over and over

Over and over,again

👣❤Jeanna’ Mead

6 46 a.m 4-7-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

My cell phone and my bank account offer the option of a fingerprint identification. I tried using it..only to get myself locked out.

I placed my finger precisely as instructed,over and over again, and it would not accept my fingerprint the second time around.

Maybe all the years of rubbing others,of burning my fingers on hot stones, cast iron pans, boiling water and this,that and another has changed my fingerprints.

I know that I have changed….I have taken all my experiences and those of the people I’ve touched and it has made me a different woman..I’m passionate..compassionate, forgiving and fiercely protective because I’ve been broken, buried,burned and blossomed into who I ask now and I wouldn’t change any of it..just like my fingerprints…these life experiences have made me who and what I was meant to be.

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Just One Cross – 1,000 Are Not Hers

1,000 Crosses

she radiates beauty beyond compare
malachite eyes dancing on delicate features
thick flaming hair accentuating skin so fair
she has built within her own dark lair
where every aching hour is neither here nor there
transfixed on modern technologies to articulate her pain
searching diligently for ways to cut her losses
pain has nailed her to a thousand crosses
like a cask of amontillado she remains walled in
growing moss- lamenting – wailing in her literature
all the times she’s been double-crossed
she lives now in a four-walled cubicle
a home chiseled to create personal comfort
protection from human-demons devoid of true love
the pathetic and sad in endless cycles of utter despair
she feels spurned
rougher, tougher still searching for her elusive lover
trapped in an unreal reality
her unrealized spirituality zaps her vitality
she hopes for better days
& yearns for someone magical to discover her sexuality
she weeps silently and peeks outside her shuttered windows
counting endless stars – glimmering pinpoint beams of light
through eyes that seek their own purity
something to move her out of obscurity
trapped, she reveals nothing
stuffing stories of her pain that fall like rain
upon the mantle of her secure fortress
distressed with stress as her days slowly pass her by
why bother to confess or confide in wounded people
who couldn’t care less?
still, she must find a magical person to listen
to love her – to save her from madness
her tormented broken heart continually cries and wails
seeking an ounce of genuine gladness
prose scribbled on cerebral portals
bring some release from her infinite dark losses
the very fabric of her being implores her to “know thyself”
she prays silently to no one in particular to remove the painful nails
that suspend her on a thousand crosses…

the time has come to become like the albatross and fly
before she dies broken in her loneliness & fear…

-randini-

Randy E Welch

That was then
But not now
She finally had enough
Of all that crab
Those walls she had built herself
To guard her oft-broken,misunderstood heart
Came with a price that she refused to pay any longer

So she took the scissors
Cut off her hair
Let one side fall to the ground
While she stared at herself
In the mirror
As she twisted a handful of curls
In her right hand
And cut off the rest
Leaving a mess on the bathroom floor
In doing so
She opened up
The door to her soul

The less hair she had
The more she smiled
The weight of other people’s expectations
Fell away

She had learned long ago

Not to confide or confess

A cotton picking thing to anyone that just might turn around and use those things

To try to make sense

Make her change

Send her on a guilt trip

Bury her in shame

Make her fit into some cubicle

Take away her natural sensuality

God given spiritually

Inclination for mystery and magic

Just so that they could be satisfied

With what they thought she was

She finally felt as if she had just enough

Of all the right people standing along side

Filling up her cup

With all she wanted

Much of what she needed

She had prayed

Night and day

In her own way

And in doing so

She found the courage and the strength

To pack up what she couldn’t live without

Kick the rest to the curb

Lay claim to what is rightfully hers
Walk right inside her very own door

Breathing in the sweet scent of freedom that comes from

Doing what makes her soul dance within

Her well loved, well worn imperfect body
With a single stone cross around her neck

She was not lonely

Never had been afraid

She felt such purpose and peace

As if this was exactly as she had prayed and wished

Way back then

To have now.

👣💙Jeanna’ Mead

8 33 a.m 3-10-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

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Wake Up Dead

One day I received a text reply from my friend and it said, very simply, “Take care of yourself or you’re going to wake up dead.”

Wake up dead.

I laughed it off at first but then I started to reflect on those words and what it meant.

Wake up dead.

Just imagine that you wake up dead..Just like that..and all the things left behind, left unsaid,left undone….

There’s a Paulo Coelho quote that I love that says,

“One day you will wake up and there will be no more time to do any of the things you wanted to do…do them NOW!”

And yet…I’m so guilty of not doing the very thing I’m always telling others to do.

I have a long list of things I want to do and places I want to go.

I have words to write and words to say.

I have things to give and things I want to receive.

I have people that I need to spend more time with and people that I need to have a heart-to-heart talk with.

If I was to wake up dead, there would be so much left unsaid and unfinished. There would be chaos and clutter for anyone that tried to make head or tails of all my drawers and closets,my books and papers, and the way I’ve done things but…..

That’s the way I am.

However..I don’t want to wake up dead that way..I just don’t.

While I know good and well that no one is promised tomorrow and only God knows when number of our days, I know something else,too.

Life is precious. Life is beautiful. Life is meant to be lived fully, lived extravagantly and intentionally, lived with love and generosity.

Because one day, just like my friend said, we will wake up dead.

Gone to glory.

Dancing with Jesus.

Standing at the pearly gates.

Passed away.

And just like that, it’ll be over and done with.

With this in mind, I decided to go through my drawers, my closets, my attic. Organizing all the stuff that I’ve accumulated over my lifetime…letters and cards, drawings from my children, handwritten recipes from my beloved Mema and Mom, books I’ve highlighted and written in, journals and notebooks filled with my poems and prayers, my painful memories and my beautiful reflections, blessings and curses that comes from the living life on ragged edge.

I want to make sure that when that time comes and I wake up dead that there isn’t anyone left wondering how I felt, how much I loved, what mattered to me.

That’s right.

I’m going to say what I think and what I feel.

I’m going to apologize when I should. Raise Cain and Abel when I get riled up. Sprinkle kindness like confetti all over creation. I’m going to whisper “I love you” and shout it,too. Dress up fancy for no good reason. Drink chocolate milk from wine glasses and wine from plastic tumblers. I’m going to dance with strangers and those that I love. I’m going to say “YES!” when I want to and declare “NO!” when I don’t.

I’m going to make time for what matters to my body,my spirit,my mind. I’m going to make plans and not excuses. Find reasons and ways instead of obstacles and barriers.

Because one of the days I might wake up dead and I damn straight want to be sure that I lived.

I want to give people something to talk about when that day comes,too.

I want them to say things like this.

She sure did love with her whole heart.

She felt with both hands.

You never had to wonder what she thought about things. She spoke her mind with truth and grace.

She was a damn good listener even though she was half deaf.

She gave as much as she received.

She loved surprising people and getting surprises.

Lawd have mercy, she loved to dance.

She couldn’t carry a tune to save her life,but she sang anyways.

She was strong as a bull and stubborn as a mule.

She didn’t always have the best but she made the best of what she had.

She never gave up on people,no matter what.

She loved cowboy boots,faded jeans and pretty lace underwear and worn them from the day she lived till the day she died.

She was smart. She was kind. She was beautiful in her own way.

Yeah, that’s what I want people to say about me when I wake up dead.

But I also want them to say it right now while I’m living and I want to make sure I say it,too.

I don’t want to hear that someone I know and care about woke up dead and I hadn’t made time to talk to them.

I don’t want to gather at a funeral home wishing I had another chance.

I don’t want to have a long list of regrets;of cancelled invitations, turned down dates, missed opportunities, unspoken words,unwritten letters,untold stories and untaken pictures.

That’s not my style,not my desire, not my choice.

So here it goes….this year is winding down and a new one is about to begin and I’m making a list,checking it twice, kind of like Santa Claus, of all the things I want to do,all the people I want to love on and the places I want to see and the dreams I want to come true so that I can start checking them off, doing it all, living my life with passion and love, giving and receiving beautiful things.

From now on.

Just because.

As long as I can.

Until the day comes.

When I wake up dead.

👣💗Jeanna’ Mead

8 59 a.m 12.6.18

Www.jeannasoul.com

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These Two Men

These two men sit

Outside with me

Comfortable and at ease

Talking about the past

Things they did

Places they had been

I sit there

Looking at them

Reading their lips

Knowing full well

I’m missing some words

But still

I know enough

These two men

Bring me along

Include me in

We have a past

Present and future

I have no doubt

These two men

Hold me close

Don’t leave me out

Remind me of who I am

And when I wonder

If it’s enough

I think about the way

These two men

Sit and talk

With me

And I feel the love

That comes along

From being known

And knowing well

These two men.

👣❤Jeanna’Mead

8 18 a.m. 8-16-16

Www.jeannasoul.com

For Jim and Benjamin..these two men…..