A little pow-wow with herself around midnight…
Sputters of thought…and motions. Or so I sought.
A breath and hip circle took me to a memory of me
Driving my 5-speed on some destitute mountain in Idaho. And…I can’t even remember the people’s names I was with. I just remember the feeling and the sunset view…
Archive for Poetry
Better thought, next time.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry on December 23, 2016 by JenJuiceBe-Title-(wo)men(t).
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags black and white, breathe, dance, emotion, floetry, Her, introspection, mantra, mind travel, movement, poems, Poetry, segregated, self love, shadow on December 12, 2016 by JenJuiceFound(ed). Restless…ly.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags accountability, Life, Mind, Poetry, presence, Society, travel, Truth, writing on November 9, 2016 by JenJuiceWhat is it that you are my mind’s eye presently? What is that water that needs a desert? You, the teacher…tell me what is the question I forgot to rescue?
The wonderment of the widow caresses ever so slightly the demised threat – the culture….
…Of the universe-soul (loneliness)….the embodiment of the empty foolish world….but, truth be told..isn’t language designed to help us understand the code…after all?
I just want to…..Surrender…..to you.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Her, him, jenjuice, Love, Lovers, passion, Poetry, raw, Truth, writing on October 24, 2016 by JenJuiceThe thundering thoughts of you franchise me like the wall
I spray-painted my digits on – when you weren’t looking, of course.
The covert her-ness. Never close enough and always craving more –
of you. This may be the hardest rendition of a teaching I’ve reached.
This point.
The undertones of speech yet…the wetness of
the energy is so fucking deep – we can’t even speak.
What words are there to be said – when we speak our own language
on a frequency we both understand? So, why is this one of such an insatiable deliverance?
When all I want to do is surrender….I can’t.
My place…..
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags elecricity, Her, him, Love, passion, poems, Poetry, writing on October 23, 2016 by JenJuiceI want to sleep just to wake up in your arms.
Wet Spots Matter….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags 20 year olds, boys, dick, frat, Fuck, fuck boys, getting laid, girls, poems, Poetry, Thoughts, travel, travel tips, wet spots, writing on October 6, 2016 by JenJuiceFinding myself in an institutionalized frat party…not the role of successful backpacking. But, it’s like being held captive to a heart-stained perfume you can’t quite wash off. I’ve bathed and cut the glitter off but the fuck boys still seem to be following me with blazin’ swords out and ready for the war zone. Who you fuckin’ with, boys? Let’s talk. Let’s see what you got with your ego busted up. Losing your hair mid-twenties and yes, fuck as many girls as you can cuz that’s what “experience” is about, right? Sticking your inexperienced dick into as many wet places as possible. What do you think you got fuckin’ with all these girls – who are you, really? Have you seen you before? If not, just a little tip…..wet spots matter.
A town..not so far from the world….you count the currency blown.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags authentic, beauty, belief, dark, dichotomy, lies, perception, poems, Poetry, rockstar, Thoughts, travel, travel tips, Truth, writing on October 4, 2016 by JenJuiceI’ve never quite understood showing tits for beads….I mean, it’s your luscious breasts – your beautiful body. Beads and tits..they just don’t even (com)pair. It’s like these people that take photos of them drinking anything possible – playing drinking games, but who really wins?
Traveling….romanticizing how your self is another self in another country means what? Are you authentic self in or out or out or in or swirling like a spawn. Run, don’t walk, fuck, drink, don’t drive, be, live, spread yourself thin and wildly…another Girl or Boy Gone Wild story…because, what is it about to you? Observing the minds of others or is it just to fuck as many people that you can in as many different countries as possible? We all have a story – what is yours? What makes you special (or not)?
In a sentimental fashion there used to be sentiment. Some place in between the digging our way out of our own way we lost the place we are destined…or have we chosen this speed? Do you not even recognize your way of being? The unaware doll… the unaware being. The choice to be in the darkness of speed. Where do you look for (mind) food when you need to eat? The lurker hiding in the black worlds of the black beaches, dark as midnight without a stun gun. Watch out for those synthetic drugs…some stories are true whether you believe them or not.
What is that we are stressing over? The context of how the train won’t speed up, the way the car in front of you didn’t signal? I didn’t pronounce the word the way you think it should be heard through your ears. The reaction on my face didn’t go to par as to what you think it should, so now you feel rejected? So, what did you eat today? Where is the time you forgot to understand where it is to be present?
The dichotomy of sensationalism and broken down ledges…we try to climb down from our own levies we built for our own protection, but it’s just a crack away from a torrential downpour.
If the only word you have to describe a town was “date-rapey” – I wonder if people would still visit. The backpacker’s guide to life is the lie they all tell themselves – that everything and everyday is absolutely the most “awesome” experience ever. If that is the case….it’s all downhill from there I would surmise…the “Rockstar” lifestyle plays a reel of a story that perhaps isn’t so lustrous after all.
Hotel Wallz…..
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags dreaming, hotel rooms, moans, needs, poem, Poetry, sensation, sexual, travel, waking life on September 24, 2016 by JenJuiceThrobbing of the hotel room next to me seeping through the walls – her moans increasing like the sounds of a thousand deaths and rebirths….sliding down the foundation. Powerless of her screams…and, surrendering to his needs….
Just a whisper away – and I feel a bit intrusive, though, I’m listening….infringed with the thickness of her orgasmic purrs and my visuals…I’ve pulsated my own thoughts and my own story…..
Thus, the dream versus the reality…we all are dreaming beings…after all.
Wither(ed) and some place…searching for the…Her.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags darkness, heart, Her, home, introspection, Love, Naked, Poetry, searching, skin deep, travel on September 11, 2016 by JenJuice
The 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…
The forgetful….nature.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags anxiety, bad-mannered brain, body cage, choice, darkestdays, grief, Poetry on April 4, 2016 by JenJuiceWhen you don’t know which way to turn
Your grief isn’t shared, isn’t separate, isn’t one,
Isn’t the other
Which one….am I hurting for?
And what’s this..the energy
Of (trust) – the most dead,
Yet, most alive
I’ve ever felt.
The bottom drops
Like the dash on my headboard
Of time…
Synchronicity reminds me…
It ain’t nothing, but the life
I chose….

