Archive for writing

Don’t fuck with the fire.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , on July 11, 2018 by JenJuice

How did I get right back where I started? The move faster than you are, then come back to where you are not, farther.
This is the flow….
The imperial doorway
And the trigger points
And, we all call fire.

You got me at first sight
And ….
So much fire.
So much you and me.
And now..the rest of it
Is measuring to top
The highest me I’ve ever
Braved to go and
Be.

Art refugee

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , on July 8, 2018 by JenJuice

Art is your eyes to see what will come.

Write Mind

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , on July 8, 2018 by JenJuice

If your goal in life is to have a marriage and kids and retirement and you’ve accomplished them all – then what, death?

The record of what you do is more important than what you do.

The idea of paradise is in terms of peace of mind. The Italian Villa, the old typewriter to type, the wine cellar, the footed bathtub with a beachside view.

Paradise being the essence of breath and peculiarly the being of self. The love of self. The love of light. The love of God (God is the energy of the creator..the one-ness that connects us all). The beauty of the force of nature, we call self.

The bottomless wavering of creativity in the form of writing and dance. The sound mind of the sound mind coincides with the true nature of self.

Do you have the write mind? I do.

Quasi meaning.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , on May 7, 2018 by JenJuice

I quite often wonder why people say “I’m sorry.” when someone close to a person passes away. I’ve become more inquisitive of these two words the more death has become a close friend of mine. I’ve pondered why not just say “My apologies” for your condolences. It is just that more visible of the awkwardness this response is.  So, I began to ask people what they are sorry for or why do they say those words aside training. More times than not I would get the tale old answer, “because I was taught…”. So, what happens when you question your canned responses to life…then what?

Identifier is just a word.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , on June 21, 2017 by JenJuice

He 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.

Found(ed). Restless…ly.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , on November 9, 2016 by JenJuice

What 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 , , , , , , , , , on October 24, 2016 by JenJuice

The 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 , , , , , , , on October 23, 2016 by JenJuice

I want to sleep just to wake up in your arms.

Wet Spots Matter….

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 6, 2016 by JenJuice

Finding 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 , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 4, 2016 by JenJuice

I’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.