Archive for Liquid moments

Found…without…With(in)…With All.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , on July 1, 2011 by JenJuice

A shell found thoughtless
Meaningless battles rendered meaning somehow
Short –comings breathing down the edge of my sanctuary
Maps of doorways burn down the mirror in your throat
Kissing the air
Flowing like the dog barking at the….
Moment of…
Jagged pendants swarm a silhouette daunting spirited-like men
Sorted and found me out –

The clouds paint me like the fly that bounces
Off passing movement and my local bar –
Some days don’t really feel like days at all
A mirrored belief that there was someone there
Instead of me

You see….

Illusions twisted through my diatribe found listless
Like my number –
It takes skill to find another way to say “No,
I’m not interested – find another….”
Because when I look around I see the future
And the so it may
Caught dancing blunders –
Simmering movement
Inside and out
And channeling my day
I found…..
I found without

See me….

Walking into the light basked shiny silver
Of her found listless and why
Her body loved like her eyes saw
and, beauty entrenched the moments
and she cradles the fall
deep founded
meaningful and loving-full
of the woman
With All.

Beauty course(s)…..

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , on August 9, 2010 by JenJuice

If it is not restricted to the restraint
obliterated by the facts and the complaints
Creators enamored
To the voices
Of the central
You see..the sweet
Pattern of success
And the willowbees
through the meaning
Of the distress
All has one –
You know
It has to be….

Dinner with friends (or parents)..tell me again?

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , on February 20, 2009 by JenJuice

Sitting trying to act engaged and as if I’m listening. The buzz from the beer and the spinach and mushroom quesadilla is fading. All I can hear is a muffled sound that resembles my parents rehearsing adulthood by speaking in an overtone of “adult” speak.  I thought by having dinner and drinks with my colleagues would mean that instead of feeling like the kid at the kid’s table I would be involved in more peer sited topics, but not the case. I high-five the eight year old at the opposite side of the table as if the only connect is her. In-laws, children that speak a second language, and husbands that annoy are all brand topics at this four top table. I feel like if I don’t nod and smile appropriately I may give away the nail on the chalkboard boredom that has overcome my body. Officially, I have lost the feeling in my face and now cybering my way to bed. Another beautiful dinner with peers of no harm but seemingly not the shoes I want to inhabit.