If it was never broken, how can it ever be fixed?
The you, I see
Can be on top
Of me
Loving
The inner peace
I find every day
Around 5 and before
You leave
Remember
Not to go
So fast.
Cuz, time doesn’t exist
And neither
Do I.
I live.
Archive for Truth
Jun-if-I-er.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags floetry, human, Poetry, resistance, Truth on November 26, 2017 by JenJuiceEvery night I run- I hear that dose out of the heavy-heart erection
Of my emotions that I just resist feeling.
The internal wreckage has a ship wrecked fountain pen
Just waiting to be used and abused
Continue reading
Here. (is) Her.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags growth, Her, pillowtalk, Poetry, Truth on November 18, 2017 by JenJuiceThe south tried to teach me that being pretty…..I had one game.
Money.
Brains don’t matter.
I must be crazy.
I’m good for one thing – To look at.
To touch.
To keep quiet.
But oh, you peasants
Don’t you know
The truth
Isn’t that you were the whitest
In a doctrine
Of the you and I are in.
You caught lessons so old and thin
You never asked why
You felt any of that for.
Just a lousy I told you so
Hope to see you grow
The thought of this misery
Is the next alternative
To the life you were destined for.
Is here.
The Untitled. Truth. Sustained.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags gloryhole, money, Poetry, sex, Truth, usa on July 27, 2017 by JenJuiceThe goal is the job that gets you the most pussy.
But the reward is the sustained orgasm.
The simple answer to a complicated question.
Identifier is just a word.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags authentic, justme, Love, Poetry, Truth, writing on June 21, 2017 by JenJuiceHe kept yelling at me asking if I know this poet’s name or that poet’s name.
No sir.
I don’t know names.
I just know I write poetry.
You are my Sun.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags chris cornell, feminine genius, intuitive, Love, Mourning, Poetry, Truth on May 21, 2017 by JenJuiceThe other me is on recess.
You, me and that tacky little dress you called…
Well, a mess.
Wrecking my mind riots in your circumference
Of you, me and the lost whodunit.
But, it was…
The wife and the hello matrimony amalgam.
The departure of the underlying truth.
Is simple geometry. Just fucking listen.
Build you. With him. With you. With all of….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags beauty, dark, light love, Poetry, Truth, widow on May 9, 2017 by JenJuice
My body looked sad..so I had to please her.
Not looking in the mirror has consequences.
My tits…my tits are pouring your name. Fondling my memories of you…
Between me and my—self.
You, my – in between all of this…..stuff….and you aren’t here physically, but…
You are so in my body, my mind, my soul….you are in me. Always.
Penetrate through me…from the realms so profound away…you, my love…are somehow always with me…in this finite equation…of us is never in between you and me. Love.
Found(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.
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.
Jen Juice 