I like to hear through a clear-plated window
Vacant lots of a sober view(s)
Masked men and the benefit(s)
Of reading the new(est) and latest
King of fingered ways
Thoroughly noting signed symptoms
Shackled lip locks and the height
Of the debris
accelerating the alter-ego from a he
to a magnificent she…
Archive for Poetry
To a she….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry, SHOUT on April 11, 2011 by JenJuiceRefreshing….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Candid, Catch the falling cherry, Poetry on April 10, 2011 by JenJuiceTrees fall through the moments
I find myself trailing in a moment
Of a place I heard
And understood
Transcendental cloud droplets
Mirroring that newness
Of where I saw
Something good…
Fashion(ed) flaw….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry, Pucker up, Rawness on April 8, 2011 by JenJuiceThe smell of the piss saturates
the inner voice I hear
when I sound out like the thought
of those anti-his-ta-means.
In an old-fashioned lullaby
Of his dirty thoughts
And selfish needs
Who knows – maybe
That one day may own
Him like the day he spit
In my proverbial face…
And that’s what I call….
Fashion.
Space between me….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Hurt, Poetry, Temporary Lapses on April 5, 2011 by JenJuiceThe space between spaces
Where I find my self laying
Looking down in between my breast
Cushioning the blow of nevertheless –
Retort of the blow
Followed by the smug reactions
I only see when I’m faced down from a fall
Caught myself lower than expected
But nevertheless still part of the body
I was placed in
Some may say that’s irrelevant to the cause
I still say, I’m bequesting that moment…
Imminen(t)…
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Deeper, Mind riot, Poetry on April 4, 2011 by JenJuice
The undisputed claim
Pole dancing and the last
Thing when I say my name
Founded in a life line
Of crochet(ed)
And nickel(ed) dimes
All the same
Fuck this time
And my mind
All the time(s)
Run together
Like you and I
Bottomed out
And worn the fuck…..
The Ex Hangover….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Junxtaposing, Poetry, Reaching on April 4, 2011 by JenJuiceOne of those days laying in a spell of me and you
Changing sheets after I tore them up
Rot with desire
And a bolted memory of
The distress of it all
And a mirrored-reflection
Of the ways you wore me out
With the fog you’re in and me
And my discretion(s)
With all the sanctions
Of you and the way you cry
When I send every little
Reason why you must
Not die for such a
Unpatriotic cause….
Whispering through….it all.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Love, Poetry, Rawness on March 29, 2011 by JenJuiceWhispering in deaf’s ear
Knocking down the belligerent barriers and the
past-driven(ed) walls
My ideals and fantasies bargaining culture
Covert(ed) to the Pervert(ed)
Shadowing and senseless
My touch reaps motion(less)
Calls…
Memoirs of the into….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Deeper, Poetry, Rawness, Temporary Lapses on March 25, 2011 by JenJuiceCrying ever so delicately
As I sing this song
Bewildered by the truth
Is all I know
A smeary smile
And a cracked throat
Singing my lips,
Swaying my hips
Into the glorious
And into the not so glory
Of the way I look into you
And remember
The submission – I gave it all
To you
And the weary waters
I tread ahead
With a mile of memoirs of you
Stapled to my weary head
Nevermind the thoughts
Dream away this day
Just like the way we came
Into this weary place…
Life as a Suitcase.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry, raw on March 22, 2011 by JenJuice
Rendering phone calls of
The only said difference
Between the bed sheets
And my new found(ed) existence
Of how the suitcase
Lives with a marker and me in it
Saw between the both
And far and the few between – me
And the you I can’t seem
To get in and through to
Like the imperfect little
Glass vase I use
As my front door
The sot and
The best reasons why
I can’t do this any more
Life as a Suitcase of emotion
And you as my front door….
Through my fingers….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry, Soft Spots on March 5, 2011 by JenJuiceYou move as slow as this computer speed
Not the motive behind this mission styled
Fiction
And the mirror juggling through my fingers
Wet and solid
Like the piano I handed you
And blew into
Simple triples of fun
To have
The most
On the run…
Jen Juice 