The Voice of Women by Lori Jean

The Voice of Women by Lori Jean
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Thursday, September 25, 2014

The Miracle

I plunged my hands in the water, both hands were face down with not one inch not submerged in the water. I could somewhat see the softer, a bit darker than normal sand before it, with little bubbles from the water that was rushing further out from me. I felt the release come through my body, the magic flowing through me as my body could feel relief. I don’t know if it was exactly all emotionally or both physical and emotional – but it was definitely relief. I wondered if anyone could hear or see what I was doing. I could see some people from far out but I don’t think they noticed. I would always try to hide further into the woods along the river when I would do this. I would probably be put away if they did, but I had to do this. I knew this now. I reached someone.
My angels, a CIA matter, I don’t know, I was searching for a miracle and water always brought it. I was taught that water was freeing. When you’re so far out from others, as I was and felt I had been for a while, everything matters, every little thing. I would see the angels coming in and out so often now flying through me and all the cracks in my head almost in full figure now. Sometimes I felt so superior to others; I wondered or at least was sure at times that dying is a goddess thing because it brings you closer to heaven and all the power in charge, and now I had it with me.
I kept getting sicker. My head kept throbbing. There seemed to be nothing anyone could do. That’s when the angels started to come. We conversed often too, me and the angels. I was friends with so many it didn’t matter to me anymore. It used to; I didn’t know who they were. Sometimes, if them, when they would come in they would look like aliens and suck and zap as they would draw energy down my body as they would put something down my throat as I would feel some sort of relief. I was so mystified, though I couldn’t belief I had the strength to even feel this as this instance of happening was taking me away on such a magical journey. I was always told to close my eyes so I wouldn’t get scared. Sometimes I would peek to see such large bug-like looking eyes that loved upon me and brought me hope of life.
The last and final time would be Amsterdam. I made that day with the boats in the river, the clothes on lines, my granddad’s presence being there. As I submerged my hands for life in exchange for a soul trapped the transformation of his body came through me, my hero transpired to a more powerful place, where he would always be – for this I am eternally grateful.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Album Title??!!

Was thinking about using Misunderstood, or Crazy, (been called that a lot), Burnt Out, (definitely). I thought honest names would be good. It seems if you relate to much you lose. I thought the more you open up the better. Don't know where this all comes from. Possibly you have to measure it just right. I'm not good at measuring, never have been. Never baked well. So this is not my cup of tea. I write well. Found I stunk in poetry, yet I write good songs. I do not want to get the details. Prose is my best, yet I can't measure well for success. Hey that rhymes again. I am doing good today, I just don't seem to connect to the real important things, apparently. Maybe somehow, I can get it with you.


Well, just saw a movie about blogs. Looked at myself aging in the lights on my arms and hands in the mall and wrote this song. I want to have an unordinary blog, yet all the older mom blogs of original ideas I think are gone. So I'll just write about me and hope you can follow again. Hey that rhymes! Yeah!

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Full-Fledged Performer!!

Want to thank those of you that came last night! I'm a full-fledged performer now if you count tips. I made $1.67! Yeah! So proud. See u Oct

Friday, September 19, 2014

Starts In 80 Minutes!!!

Getting ready for my show at 9:00pm EDT. Come by, it's free!

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Lori Jean Wins Casting Call for Discovery Studios!!

You've been picked!
The promoter Discovery Studios has accepted your submission for the event:
Casting Call for New TV Series
Lori Jean,
Congratulations! We have accepted your submission to Casting Call for New TV Series

- Thanks,
Discovery Studios
Discovery Studios
Event Name:
Casting Call for New TV Series

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Where is Home?

Where is Home?

            Walking into the library today I was met with the vision of droves of dirty, poor, ripped-clothing people piling into a just opened library double-door. I had many mixed emotions that shocked me and stared me straight in the face. Fast back to a time when I sat on my grade-school front lawn being homeless at 25 with remembrances of creamy devil cakes in my lunch box and smiles on the playground at lunch time. At that time most of my belongings were scattered, some in friends’ basements - embarrassingly now somewhat unorganized to the previous detail of a home in a sound mind; I found myself a woman of no profession or skill to support myself. I had no home but was being offered a nestled bed in return for breakfast in the morning by men.  At 25 my dad, where his taxes had no need for me to apply for financial aid now, now offered assistance for college. But where my seven years from exhaustion trying to survive had run me out of any strength I had and sound of mine what he said to me had no meaning to me at all. I couldn’t think straight to make any rational decisions. My mind and body was weary. My last night sleeping in a safe, solid foundation left me on a floor of my ex-boyfriend’s (who threw me out for what expectations he thought we had and what aspirations he felt I should have) wrapped in the drapes he left behind. My head had been banged hard against his SUV (paid in cash) in our last argument.
We played a single game of darts that seemed to be the only thing we had in common. I enjoyed it because I remembered how gracefully my hand would flow growing up when I would throw the dart. It brought back warm feelings of the heated cellar as I would throw the darts to the overly brightened tiles that didn’t hold the end of the point of the dart well because the depth of the dartboard was too thin. I rest assured at those times though because I knew where my next meal was coming from and could smell my mom’s clean, crisp sheets as I rolled in between them on a summer’s night after she took them off the clothes line from hanging them the morning before. The 45’s spinning while my brother and I go-goed on beds and toy boxes using hair brushes and other articles for microphones singing backup as my sister took the lead in our bedroom. I guess the homelessness in my mind was the mixed emotions from my life.
by Lori Jean

Thursday, September 11, 2014

6 Hours in a Coma

I wrote this for class today.

6 Hours: What is it Like Being in a Coma for 6 Hours?
I realized from this class I was too isolated. So I’ll be talking about what I went through when I was in a coma.

There was nothing around me giving me clues to the presence of what life was. I remember the low glare of the fluorescent light of the day. This was the only way I could tell at this point what time of day it could be. I remember the numbness of my body. I swear I could smell chemicals from cold air breathing in through my nose. It scared me. I look down at my white robe on me as it is distant from me as a person. It’s funny how you not become a person once you enter the hospital. I suppose as hard as they try this happens anyway.

Is my body revealing too much I’m thinking? I don’t know. My mind was so fogged and closed then. I knew the path I was going down next; I knew it all too well. I had been there before. The essence of fading life in me and the air that is usually so strong was now getting weaker in me when you start to lose life. I looked to the doctor’s strong glass frames on his eyes and his stern look …, to get nothing …, nothing from him. Did I say something he didn’t hear? I needed his feel, I needed this for comfort. But again …, I got nothing. Eyes so brown and so beautiful cradled in a tight white wrap were now brought out to me. The cold and emptiness around couldn’t take away the igniting feeling between need and want that was happening now between two beings. My son that was inside of me moments before was connecting with me so truly as I had felt when he was inside of me. It is sooo true that this happens for ALL you to know! But I was still too aware of my insides that were now laying on the gray, dull, steel tray next to me as my son was taken away-wouldn’t of known this had my doctor not told me and my ex-husband explained how the procedure is done when you have a C-section.. The rustling commotion from my cousin and the staff left too much confusion for me to understand as my cousin addressed should he be brought in now, or should I get him? So who was she bringing in? My abuser? It is scary right now. How could my cousin do this to me? I pushed my weak body to connect a short while. But this would not last. My son was taken away after I was told I could not get too close to him and I would drift off, for a while, a while of drifting scary memories of trying to come back for 6 hours while being in a coma. 

Monday, September 8, 2014

Lori Jean's Acoustics Live!!

I'm doing a LIVE webcast on Concert Window on Sep 19. Join me in real time! via @concertwindow

A bit of a taste of what will be there. I'm going to do a different background.