When I tell you I want to paint a picture you should listen
Colors explicit and functioned and calling
Like the woman shining through my silken skin
Immortalized in a child crying found her way
Somehow extended
Shaken, emaciated and lucid reactions
In a milk-shaken thread
Absence of logic and pondering the girl that stood
And watched every single wicked explosion exploding
In my face
Back of the door and blood on the embrace
Running my fingers through my freshly laced hair with ribbon
My daughter compliments my spawn
The daughter of my thoughts
Listen to me call
Listen when I speak….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry, Speaking, Words on June 4, 2011 by JenJuiceHis and Hers…..
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Looting, Poetry, Words on June 4, 2011 by JenJuiceLooking up in a telepathic window
Congregations of nomads and his and hers belt-loops
I see what I thought I would on a night like this
When I can’t see the way I knew it would be
And factoring in the daunting biopsies through
Late night phone calls and mattresses deflating
In synchronicity
It gets darker as the light fades…and all I see is moonlight
Gazing back at me
Through a window of the woman I’ve grown to be –
He and she shelters me like the caring eyes that shone
Lathering the clocks like a peacock feathering on his/her
Day of dust
Shadowboxing the blood red blanket of words
Laying across my lap like the feathered pen
I held at my parents’ wedding…..
Beauty mark(ed) connection….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Love, Poetry, Synchronicity on June 2, 2011 by JenJuiceHonor the way you reveal the beauty that marks us – the same
that is mine…right above the belly button – we fed onward
and shine(d)
each other through music and our eyes saw the same moment
and the same time
another day
I look down beneath my breast and remember the beauty mark
That matches yours – with the same name
Connection through synchronicity and the place in time
Me and you met
and did the naked silhouette(d) dance in your living room
and wept…
It Is.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Life, Peace, Poetry on June 2, 2011 by JenJuiceBe withered be not
Be founded be forgot
Be sounded be without
The ones beneath
Seeking
Searching
Loving
Life
The answers may not be so
Easy, but
It is.
Cover with the good Tits….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Naked, Poetry, Tits on May 28, 2011 by JenJuiceContraband like me isn’t found at the corner store…
Nope, not the gravy train stripped of the magazine page –
laying on the floor
The one, you know, with the good tits on the cover…
A rooster crows its branches in towards me
The lost and the weary back off like a break in the wind
That I blow into
The mirror flags a sensation I want to penetrate
Like the songs I sing to
Reaching the moments between the pages I sit through
Long roads impend the days
Shadowing.
Sensing.
Reminiscing.
Breaking through the next realm of existence
Lose your bottom of thought for a while
Pull up a chair and sit with me, why don’t you…
Hold my hand, I won’t let you go
Sit on my lap, flip the pages
And let it graze through my
Lace and lips
Like the thoughts that go
In and out and you face
Again…
It’s just another dollar to find
Me through the markers and grass
Not buried yet…
Just a pile of magazines…
You know the one…with the good tits…
Under(cover)ed.
See forward……
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Hardships, Poetry, Rawness, Time on May 27, 2011 by JenJuiceFighting to stay above water, above ground – craters
Wherever I look there are so many hardships and danger
Trying to mend the ripeness of this time
So dark and no endurance more than the one I am.
I can’t hold on to any more pain coming down hard
Everywhere I look life dissipates and hardens
What we have is each other
Don’t give up…Don’t give up
One foot in front of the other…..
Spells of a myth…..
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry, Spells on May 20, 2011 by JenJuiceLightning storms are miraculous streams from the mental potency of the sky….
In a mirror of dissertation a lovely room and a meek spotlight
I find myself escaping under
commonly known for the direction I point
In a miss or permission you found my moment in time
Listening to that Mazzy Star accompanying my dial tone
when the vino yells at me with such direct us
Of such myth and cajole
Simple as a map of thought – I sit
Remember the press that surrounds when I think
and I miss
And reach to you like that triple threat you are…
And it’s not even so much new as old
That many array of nothingness in a past
That doesn’t exist in the moment
And now, all I see….is me.
You’re the big winner….contest(ed)
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Death, Deeper, Mind riot, Poetry on May 16, 2011 by JenJuiceLosing the thought among the lost and wretched…the masses
Sipping the spit off the rims dripping from the institutions of “you’re the big winner!”
Competition of the mystery rivals
Sensations with the misery of compliances
I only talk if I have something to say…
Not so much of a covert(ed) mistress of your life
“There she goes again”..they say.
Walking all over the faces of immortal treasury
And the fucked and saluted ignorant of the nation that preys…
Off the resistance of how much I care is how much I feel
Not holding onto it..kinda like the way…I let go of every little
Thing in my life…
Even you….lost interest in your weaknesses
Just like the infomercials rising a speak from
My alter-dreamer last night around 8:03pm (censored).
A Soul with no Title…..
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Deeper, Poetry on May 15, 2011 by JenJuiceWhere does the knife drop in the mourning
Light shining like an Eiffel Tower
On my porcelain skin – glowing.
That soft spot
Where I lay thin
in the wreckage
Of the battery
Solitude and the horizon of the missing persons
Lost to a grim foundation of broken bottles and
The year of the cock
Backed-up and forgot where to begin
Caught some place between the fall and the truth
gazing directly through
the sink or swim
Of how so many have no place in the vision
Dividing the sight, the penetration and the barrage of
Collisions…
Simply the way I see- it isn’t the truth at all…just my truth
Of the battle scars and the rendering cinema between the fallacy
Movement and memoirs incongruent through the rubble.
Navigation becomes like a fork to my daily routine
Trying to sip water with a metal plated limb doesn’t really
Seem relative to the way things drown in the room around the
Movement sitting on my porch of sin…(thoroughly collecting data)
Like the crater in my stomach watching the wounded
Molest its way out of battle…
only the strong survive.
You can’t fix….Stoopid.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Deeper, Poetry, Rawness, Reaching, Sickness on May 12, 2011 by JenJuiceYou can’t fix stoopid…My anti-autobiography related
To the non-relation to the family
And where did I come from? Cuz, the last time
I saw the torrid affair between the monitor
And the past I’ve been resurrected from…
Shown nothing like the doll complacent
Like I show….except, only if I really really like you.-
Then there is the abrasive abandonment of characteristics
and a pretty smile to jack up the disinterment of the lollipop
in my mouth..that somehow turns them on like you wouldn’t believe..
and I don’t..believe.
in much..just the way of the road I see..and don’t.
Cuz mothers and fathers don’t really hail an existence of hope
– just a feux dial and a mocked adventure
When I crouch down and hold the phone
I lock up around my neck and choke…
And deep breath for the miles and miles
Of heretics…that soak
The moments and the non-logic and the sacred senses
And somehow, I always find a way out….
Jen Juice 