She has lured me, with lust and with love.

Celebrated my ego with pomp and with pus.

In success, in failure, in pain and in pleasure


has been.

I’ve followed her, enthralled and listless,

unable to resist the seductress,

limply following her command,

and she has told me her dreams

and she has ripped my clothes to their seams

fondled my patience

and left it wanting,

and left me haunting



She’s enlisted my fears,

as torment.

She’s sung her hopes over me.

She’s caressed my temples with memories,

though forlorn,

her happiness has guided me

through many seasons of melancholy.


I’ve wanted her,

and she’s run.

I’ve forgotten her,

and she’s come.

She’s laid against my soul,

in etchings and words,

that I’ve found in her world,

this lovely, lonely girl.


– janberry © 10 Nov 2017. 3.13am.





“You’ll die alone.”
“You can’t just walk away like that.”
“You can’t do it on your own.”
“You do everything by yourself.”
“You don’t stick it out.”
“You decided, on your own, that this relationship was over. No consultation?”

At my worst, these are the things people say of me. I usually don’t want to show up with my heart open to yet another relationship, and have to wait for them to get to where I was the moment I showed up.

I’d reason, If you really wanted me around, then when I drift away, you’d reach for me. You wouldn’t let me go. You wouldn’t LET me go. You wouldn’t let ME go. You wouldn’t let me GO.

I’d probably lose interest in objectifying you at some point. And see all the reasons why you’re the one pushing me away. Maybe this is all the power I never had. To believe that I’m just useful to you..that everything is perfunctory..that there is no sentiment you bear for me. When I’m no longer useful, you will no longer be vulnerable, because that has expired. I have the power to be suspicious of you when I want to, turning your motives on and off.

When it’s time for me to run away and hide, you’re cold (switch). When it’s time for me to come out and talk, you’re hot (switch). I never had this power with my mother. She was always cold, and I was born hot. So, I had to feign coldness and shelve my thoughts behind the interrogations that our conversations were. This chapter was resignation. Accepting the fact that my inner self was not welcome here. There was always so much going on…the message: “too much.”

I bring an entire childhood to the table. You’re not just dealing with how I feel, you’re dealing with how I felt. Rejected. T says I’m normal, and of course I don’t believe her. What could be normal about feeling like my vulnerability, my feelings are an intense and overbearing burden to everyone? So, instead, I either share too much or too little, until the trickle dries up completely and you’ve been rejected, before you could reject me..because that’s where you’re going with this, not so? I never want anyone to see me like ‘this’..spiraling outward in the cold air of their warm embrace.

I’ve only gotten more mysterious about it, but it’s really the same dismissal, over and over. I reject you. Is what I sense real at all, or is it just retched pain? Vomiting Janessa at 4, at 6, at 8, at 12…

I feel it’d be noble of me to accept that she was right when she said that “I’ll die alone.” Isn’t that why I’m in the sick house? How could she bring up the very source of my pain as a parting gift? Except, I don’t believe her, and I’m leaving. It’ll be easier for us both if we don’t speak. The words in between are too painful, and you’ll reject mine and reject me..anyway.

I can’t blame it all on myself. The pain… the pain is to blame too. It’s done to me what I repeatedly do to you. This is all the power I never had. I’ll switch off before you grow cold, imagining that it doesn’t make a difference either way, whether I’m here or not. I’m neither warm nor cold. I’m just indifferent.

Janessa ‘Janberry’ Mc Kell. © 10 Oct 2017. 12.19am.

Point of Return

Point of Return
Feels foolish, yea…and then you say, nothing tried, nothing gained. You can learn about yourself and others by venturing… adventuring.
If you don’t go bravely, you would remain naive, about your own reflection.
Be courageous, and you’d see your desire. You’d own it, and admit your needs. In that light, you can make a decision. Run or stay, but see it all in the light of truth. The fear of possibility is the same as the despair of impossibility. It all begins at the point of return.
– janberry. 30 aug 2017. 10.43pm.

Madness and Passion

Madness and Passion

In 2012, my mother was diagnosed with sarcoma (cancer of the muscle). She went on her annual Buddhist retreat that year and bought gifts for my father, brother and sister-in-law. My gifts were a ‘faith’ keychain, a card saying ‘Never Never Never Give Up’ and a journal with a quote on the cover; “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.”

I’ve been timid about writing in that journal but the quote on the cover is quite a meditation. I decided to do it, to go in the direction of my dreams…and to do it confidently…

Firstly, it required confidence…I didn’t know this feeling in its entirety before. It felt like all of a sudden I was is a sort of bold, gritty feeling..a ruthlessness, an unwillingness to accept ‘No’ from myself but willing to see and follow any ‘Yes’ that was consistent with my dreams, simply because I can. Confidence says to you, “Yes, you can.” Yes, I can.

I had to believe that I was worth my dream…That was hard. I had to stop fearing my dreams…that was harder. And I had to be willing to go after MY dreams, not someone else’s dreams for me…THIS was the hardest because taking that step would cut me off emotionally from anyone who would rather manipulate me into their version of me than accept who I truly am.

At the beginning of the process, I had to surrender my time to diligently planning and building the consistency of getting one or more thing(s) done toward my dreams every single day.. I had to say ‘No’ to many things and I had to begin to work…really work at it..hard work too!

I’ve had to be fierce and unrelenting when I’d rather give up. At the times I’m most ready to give up, a change of perspective or approach or a poignant question of, “What am I learning about myself or this situation in this moment?” would move me forward.

I love to journal so I know my biggest fear about beginning to use this journal is that dream-making never ends but the journal will run out of pages eventually.

I am a work in progress, confidently charting my own course, fearlessly believing in my abilities and purpose. And figuring out that the things most worth it, most consistent with my life-work require me to ‘never never never give up…’
What are your dreams? Have you begun working on them?

growing pain

growing pain

Only now growing up socially…

worse things have happened.

failing forward. inertia dragging my emotions along.
age means nothing anymore,
and I have to accept that,
painful like teeth emerging.
Tooth fairy, spare me a dollar nah?
I’ll pay it back, just let me move forward painlessly.
harder on myself than anyone will ever be,
even still, the warrior way is not…painlessly.

– janberry. © 29 mar 2017. 12.16pm.

Moon of Old

Moon of Old

Sages sprinkle their white ash and hum in quiet

in quiet, they repose..

old songs run down their walls

like movements of sound

ringing out in the black

in the quiet.

through the metal bars,

she shine, she illuminate

through the hate, they illuminate

shamans of love

rush in and bow to the sky.

Your purity is more than me,

and more than I.

You are old,

older than me,

you’re all older than I.

You know things I cannot say.

Sages you wring the night dry,

washing your rhythms in time.

On your metered prose

I can only sing,

over you,

under you,

with you,

to you,

for you,

moon of old.

– janberry. © 16 mar 2017. 4.04am.