Words are how all things are called into our life. If you don’t want them to manifest – don’t say them. Simple.
Archive for Words
Sin, the derelict.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags greek, philosophy, Poetry, sin, Thoughts, Words on October 18, 2018 by JenJuiceSin or syn is essentially broken down from Greek to, “miss the mark”.
Who decides the placement of said mark? It’s an unattainable point line and speaking of the contrary in which words play…is in fact, who decides what each word means?
My belief is not based on a transference of thought to another mind.
Findings.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags flow, jenjuice, journey, listen, ocean, poet, simple, travel, Truth, Words on January 1, 2018 by JenJuiceYou can’t feel an ocean until you stand in one.
Listen when I speak….
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Poetry, Speaking, Words on June 4, 2011 by JenJuiceWhen I tell you I want to paint a picture you should listen
Colors explicit and functioned and calling
Like the woman shining through my silken skin
Immortalized in a child crying found her way
Somehow extended
Shaken, emaciated and lucid reactions
In a milk-shaken thread
Absence of logic and pondering the girl that stood
And watched every single wicked explosion exploding
In my face
Back of the door and blood on the embrace
Running my fingers through my freshly laced hair with ribbon
My daughter compliments my spawn
The daughter of my thoughts
Listen to me call
His and Hers…..
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags Looting, Poetry, Words on June 4, 2011 by JenJuiceLooking up in a telepathic window
Congregations of nomads and his and hers belt-loops
I see what I thought I would on a night like this
When I can’t see the way I knew it would be
And factoring in the daunting biopsies through
Late night phone calls and mattresses deflating
In synchronicity
It gets darker as the light fades…and all I see is moonlight
Gazing back at me
Through a window of the woman I’ve grown to be –
He and she shelters me like the caring eyes that shone
Lathering the clocks like a peacock feathering on his/her
Day of dust
Shadowboxing the blood red blanket of words
Laying across my lap like the feathered pen
I held at my parents’ wedding…..
Jen Juice 