Archive for Naked

Wither(ed) and some place…searching for the…Her.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 11, 2016 by JenJuice

Gas MaskThe quantitative algorithms flicker in the background–
Like honking geese vibrating through a ripple of broken tendencies.
I find myself still…wanting to run….her, the lonely traveler – her soft and rigid embrace.

Ever wonder what it would be like to go to the furthest side of the earth to remove…
All you have ever known? Well, yeah, me too….
Funny, thing is you really never forget, and running really never gets you anywhere, but–
Further from yourself than you were. And, further than you want to BE.

So, where is that you (I) want to be? In my own skin…where do I begin? With me.
The lonely sin. I don’t believe in.
My love gone and buried. Or, is that just fear locked away in my head?
The parallels…the bottomless questions of not wanting to sit still.
Terrified of the vulnerability, yet laying leg-splayed opening up to
Every inch of myself…and, her fingertips tip-toeing through my naked skinned being….
Her mind – the bold and so profound liquid movements. I crawl. I come – hither. She whispers.
Come home…

Cover with the good Tits….

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , on May 28, 2011 by JenJuice

Contraband 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
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

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…

Seeing the same moon….

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , on November 21, 2010 by JenJuice

In a cobblestoned corridor
bottoming out and looking for
that opened door
where I find all my sensibilities
and the way you look at me
fondness that catches
my breath
like the syllables
in the forgotten room
of a handshake
and a thought splattered
with a heartbeat
capturing my love letters
sitting on this page
and caressing
the way I see
truthful moments
of two people
looking up at the same moon…


Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , on September 23, 2010 by JenJuice

There isn’t a joke in a space of day
Inherited creativities in hole(d) bodies
Of nothingness – and me

Curbed – daunting