Sleep, my friend

Sleep, my friendwoman-2714174_1280

I can’t keep my eyes open

The lids

they’re being pulled down by a crane

And the weightlessness of sleep washes over me like


Some bigger than others

I want to skip all this creating and let my consciousness free in dreams

But I’m almost finished just a few more sentences

-Saschia Johnson

This is bad

This is badfantasy-2779926_1280

These critics tell me how this is bad

so bad

They cringe and shrivel and their fingers twitch horizontal

And I say, with the most innocent eyes I can conjure,

I like it this way I like it a mess

And rugged and the honesty that’s so pure it makes you cry

dirty sheets and pants damp with sweat

Don’t tell me my way is bad just because

You live by the way someone else wipes your ass.


-Saschia Johnson

Frayed Ends- Morality Collection

Frayed Endscassiopeia-a-11180_1280

And what,
dear children,
is the end of the world?

Is it when
a hydrogen bomb is triggered,
and flesh and concrete
and body and soul
are brought to nothingness by the fury
of a stillborn sun?

Is it when
the rich finally get tired
of carrying the poor on their backs
(or, conversely,
when the poor
feel likewise
about the rich)
and drag them bodily
against the nearest convenient wall
(you can see it now, can’t you,
aglow in an aura
of weathered newsreel)
and shove a Luger
straight between their eyes
and blow their brains out,



like wooden ducks at a carnival shooting gallery?

Is it when
the march of progress
tears apart the land

and poisons the water
and fills the air
with smoke and mercury
and electromagnetic waves
that carry only noise
and boundless ignorance,

aided & abetted
by the zombie hordes
who don’t really have a clear idea
about much of anything
(except, you know,
that they were promised
a new season
of that hot new show
and they really hope they get it
because, like,
that shit is pretty awesome)?

Is it when
a good friend
writes you a letter –

oh let’s be real,
the friend writes you an email
or a text
or a tweet
because who the hell has time anymore –

but for the sake of argument,
a good friend
a letter,

itemizing in detail
the exact reason why
he or she
will never speak to you again,
delineating the lines
that you
so carelessly
and wishing you
a long and happy life
without the burden of their
continued presence?

Is it when

your car breaks down,
or your phone falls in the toilet,
or the dog poops on your new carpet,
or the other guy at the office
got that big account that you wanted,
or the cute piece at the bar
seems a lot more interested
in that hot blond than in
your particular charms,
or your significant whoever is
mad at you again
because you forgot to mow the lawn or
wash the dishes or
suck them off
like you promised to?


Is it when you see
your newborn child
for the first time,
when you hear him propose,
when you hear her say Yes,
when you earn that last diploma,
when you meet a new friend,
when you forgive an old friend
for the sin of being human,
when you laugh with a good joke,
when others laugh with your jokes,
when you move into your own space
for the first time,
when you get your first real paycheck,
when you learn something
you never imagined before,
when you help someone understand something
that you know,
when you build,
when you love,
when you live?

And what,
dear children,
is the difference
between an end
and a beginning?

Written by: Geoff Blanchette (use link to see his wordpress) a writer and actor based in Westerly, RI


Would you like to add your opinion? Instead of commenting on this post please write/create something to be shared with the community.

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Wanna read more? Here’s another great piece in our Morality Collection, I Want It All by Geoff Blanchette

Sweaty Palms

Speaking of posting things that make our palms sweat and our hearts beat out of our chest. I figured I’d post a personal one. Race is something that is extremely hard for me to talk about. I have a post in drafts that’s still there about the complexities of growing up bi-racial. But I figured I’d start here. I’m nervous to post this.

Shed Me



am I not allowed to be angry

to be upset when discrimination floods back to my memory

watching his spirit drop on our first date

hearing whispers how I shouldn’t wear my hair naturally

I watched as my friends were asked to leave

even though they were shopping casually

I watched as my brother’s spirit decayed

from constant aggression from the police

Can I not feel something emotionally?

should I be calm when even after years of proof

I’m told these things don’t exist?

Aren’t my experiences proof!

can I not allow these situations to flood back in front of me

those situations when they were just being kids but singled out intentionally


When God come to greet me and asks, “Where’s your brother?”

I will have the conscience to say

“Right here, he’s right here next to me.”



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The mission of Jayne.Press is to inspire growth and respect real life content within New England. Jayne.Press will continue to find ways to increase in community to create a place for writers to be paid for their craft through writing real life experiences, using creative ways to advance inner growth, and providing an outlet from mundane lifestyles. will continue to evolve along with readership.

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