Where Joy Lies

My heart aches and breaks as I sit in my self made grave
Disconnected and trapped, I feel alone as I build my own tomb
I sit and liquify myself into some sort of melancholy happiness
Becoming some sort of wobbling feeling

Even as I quake and cry
Even as my mind turns poisonous
And I think I should die
Even as my walls move around me and trap me inside
With a smoke and a drink, I still know where joy lies

Joy lies down on the sidewalk in front of a bar
Where me and strangers scream poems at each other and into the stars
It’s where the bouncer laughs and eats curry after playing a song on stage
It’s where all these artist come together to make noise and dance away

Joy lies at the bottom of my double whiskey
And that’s not a sad statement because that’s where it rests for all of us
At the bottom of our drinks, we turn our heads up and smile
At the bottom of our drinks, we kick our heels and turn wild

Joy lies in the afterglow of a kiss
As two faces pull apart
Joy lies in two interested parties
Walking past each other at the bar

Joy lies in the saxophonist’s sound
That bops around our heads and makes us feel all
It’s where the bartender and I talk about drinks
Books, music, and wine
Where we smile because, at least in this moment, we’re alright

Joy lies in the aftermath of the night
In the shotgun boom explosion of fun
It blows me a kiss and wishes me well
As I slowly meander on back home

On and Off and On and Off

I stir
There’s a man on the TV
And he’s calling me over
Motioning me to come to his side
With the curve in his hand

And from my perch on the window
I can look down upon the world
At all the ants that are people
Walking around loud and proud

But I got distracted from the man on the TV
And he gets angry at my forgetfulness
So I approach again and listen to him whine
He pushes his grey hair back and tells me
Tells me

The walls have nice colours
They have stories when they’re all beat up like mine
Chipped paint and water stains that will be there, always
This is my eternal home

And the man on the TV is screaming now
About how I am causing all these problems
That I have no focus and no will
That I am weak and a coward

But I’m just sure he hasn’t looked at the trees long enough
If you stare into those branches I swear you see God, or someone
All wrapped around somewhere and nowhere
Trees and their leaves, wrapping and spinning and staying
I think trees are all we need.
Trees

And that man! That man on the TV
Screaming his deafening battle cry at me
It’s all too much
He’s saying that if I keep this up I am nothing
But I am already nothing, according to him
He tells me I need to buy this
I need to be that
I need to love my country
I need to hate this country
It’s too much
I turn off the TV
And go perch on my window
Above the world
And stare at a tree

Samuel Plauche was born on the island of Vashon in Washington. With not much to do on the heavily forested island, Plauche quickly found a love in books, which quickly led to a love of storytelling as he would make up stories of magical creatures in the woods around his house. At the age of twelve, Plauche moved to southern Louisiana where he became more involved with his Cajun heritage and began hearing more and more Cajun folktales, songs, and poetry. These writing lessons only found on bayous and southern porches continued to influence Plauche’s writing, and soon he too was joining these storytelling sessions with ones of his own creation. Eventually, Plauche moved to Seattle, and his writing changed yet again to include more stories about living in the city. Plauche now combines the magic found in forests and the themes of old Cajun storytelling into setting specific stories, often inspired by events from his own life, about the highs and lows of the cities he has been to. Plauche moved to Chicago and graduated from Columbia College Chicago with his Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing with a specification in Fiction. He has recently had work published in Commuterlit, Black Poppy Review, and Mementos CHI as well as having an active website where he self publishes poetry and short stories for his ever growing audience.