and the thoughts…
jumble up in the form of words that don’t come out just right
wondering if the only language is art in the form of actions;
every little pang opens up a new door
to the little dog that barks my name
Formations..
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags formative years, Open up, Poetry, Sane dogs on May 2, 2009 by JenJuiceBlow for me…
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Blow, Peach me, Poetry, Pucker up on April 28, 2009 by JenJuice
Relevancy comes in two tones – discretion and impetuousness
Sitting in the muse of my existence
Shadowing the lucrative limelight that surrounds me (I’m not impressed)Cycles swarming
Vast peaches falling
Spilling
Juice
Down
the corridor of my mind
Flowers seem as deceptive
As the breeze simmering through my lips
Blowing…
As if there was a fingertip
Pushing the words
balancing shades
Of sorrow
And the not to mentions
Of tomorrow
Shaking the difference
Of logic and the emotion filled
flagging it up to
A whistle blown…
Open…
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Deeper, Poetry, Rawness on April 4, 2009 by JenJuice 
It’s going to take me time to sit down and admit what I didn’t want
searching the myriads of moments that have created the only one that
is immaculate to the nature of the way
things are and will always be
I don’t want to exist in fear of what is
living in me directing to the only way that can commit me to believing
in something that is
fondling the only thing sensing my tones of thought
caressing my dignity to find
the sought moisture of sentiments
shining in the window
believing is seeing
in me…
And so we begin….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Deeper, Poetry on March 27, 2009 by JenJuicethe way it enchants me, like a button I hold near
to the sobriety of the the walls that turned a blistery shade of honesty
through the placement of the inconceivable way it all seems to begin (and end)
and the reality of how the proclamations dancing so gorgeously
on my tongue – when I speak..
The margins sustaining space next to my fortunes that I found some time to disclose
the way I feel
towards life and the thoughts shuddering at a moment that
takes a hold of time and crawls to a smile
and knowing that this time
is the only one..
and so it seems, the laughter portability deciphers the channels
I surf through and gaze into an open window
My reflection in the distance
so miraculously flavored
at the dollhouse rendered
full of droplets of sentimental moods
shining next to an ambush of calm
and distractions of focus
believing the sentences that come out
of the fingertips of thought
and so we begin…
Right in the middle of…
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Catch the falling cherry on March 22, 2009 by JenJuice
the wind sings to me through the purple sheer drapes
dancing around in my little room, throughout my body
the maniacal bobby pin
sitting through the sharpness of it all seems a little rhetorical even for me..and then again, it always does
finding in ways of change and back to the know how of who I am.
Once in a while
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry, Spill inward on March 9, 2009 by JenJuicesocietal riches saturated in the minds of the young beginners
once in a while
they seep into a distinct brief cul de sac that is less amusing
once in a while
children and filters blow up the back doors of their minds
once in a while
that sustain some integrity even during lightning storms
once in a while
but a las’ we find a little old woman that isn’t bitter
once in a while
as the trenches open and the wounded heal and life remarks
once in a while (rinse and repeat)
escalating bounds
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Catch the falling cherry, Take it like you mean it on March 4, 2009 by JenJuice
writing the optimistic primal graffitti subject to change with the wind
no where is used to finding the no in the most obscene since of the lake
chills that move up my body when you blow
me like a doll chattering
with a mouth full of cotton
and a hand full of spit
hands down – feet up
and there is a no
in every since of the plagiaristic formality
daunting my cordial side to only say that
I only fall when I choose
and the falling comes when there
is no where else to go
Sandra D. and me..
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Rental property on February 24, 2009 by JenJuice
why is my landlord talking to me through my window? A lady pushing 70 with bleach blonde Sandra D. hair and makeup compiled to resemble the little clown that hides underneath my bed..I some how wish this were all a fictional character, but of course, in my case – no such luck.
Fucking Please
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry, Thoughts and Some on February 24, 2009 by JenJuicewithout reason enough for me to captivate a new motive of insanity –
i contemplate the rawness of my thoughts
the incoherent posture I souly sustain to find nothing more than
scared little bodies of water
that run like pussies as if they had no idea of how to speak.
Cowardice motives are never enough for me or for my bodies of motion –
regret is not in my vocabulary because that is not living – that is robotic
fools daunting through grocery store isles pretending to carry on exotic conversations that in real time mean nothing more than a symbol of moronic irony at best. I’d just like to feel a symbiotic breeze that doesn’t feel like a blistering shot to the chest some times.
Conjunctive Thought
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Romance me, Speak to me on February 24, 2009 by JenJuice
The hours daunt by like a little child running to the Ferris wheel. Moving towards the light permeating through the white pupil – my thoughts, my hand bag, and typewriter in tow. I ask myself if it means anything to see beyond the little black dot in the middle of my eye. And if I’m the only one asking and the only person I’m asking is that little voice inside my head. Wondering if this constitutes as insanity or schizo talk. Nevertheless, I don’t think I’m the only one that has the little voice she talks to when no one is looking (and sometimes people stare). It’s not about questioning motive, but answering in which language do you think? Sifting in and out of sleep I see a dark shadow meandering towards me. The shadow feels somewhat like a little old man hunched over mimicking a bird nesting its spawn. I welcome the bit of awkwardness of this sighting, and do nothing but gaze in the other direction. My crooked smile and the warmth felt as harmless as a baby boy in his crib. I take a deep breath and look back – the dark spot vanishes, and I mutter “danka”.
Jen Juice 