Archive for Deeper

Found…without…With(in)…With All.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , on July 1, 2011 by JenJuice

A shell found thoughtless
Meaningless battles rendered meaning somehow
Short –comings breathing down the edge of my sanctuary
Maps of doorways burn down the mirror in your throat
Kissing the air
Flowing like the dog barking at the….
Moment of…
Jagged pendants swarm a silhouette daunting spirited-like men
Sorted and found me out –

The clouds paint me like the fly that bounces
Off passing movement and my local bar –
Some days don’t really feel like days at all
A mirrored belief that there was someone there
Instead of me

You see….

Illusions twisted through my diatribe found listless
Like my number –
It takes skill to find another way to say “No,
I’m not interested – find another….”
Because when I look around I see the future
And the so it may
Caught dancing blunders –
Simmering movement
Inside and out
And channeling my day
I found…..
I found without
Wonders…

See me….

Walking into the light basked shiny silver
Foundation
Of her found listless and why
Her body loved like her eyes saw
and, beauty entrenched the moments
and she cradles the fall
deep founded
meaningful and loving-full
of the woman
found…
Without
With(in)
With All.

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The Jen behind It.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , on June 14, 2011 by JenJuice

The moonlight penetrates my bosoms from the high light of the window
Narrowed and convincing the mortality rates rise
Shadowing existence like a dollar bill slipping out of my bra strap
Judgment cradles my lap as the dollar falls – I grasp
Dissipating and flagging my thoughts as though I lived a life of sobriety and existence
It escapes me to a never-ending reality
Corpses amuse me like the foundations and the sincerities
Molding the collapse swimming through my eyes
Befuddled grudges and baffled dues
Put your coin in my hand and walk away slowly
Don’t look back and sink woe-lee
Society of narcissist in your bag of tricks
Looking up at me embrace the heretic
Breaking down the laminate of pervasiveness
The underlying materialism
Concepts and embezzlements

If you catch me late in the hours you can catch the true Jen
Un-friended and material-less and impended

Jen-nor-I-eties…specializing between beauty and the real rise
Of the doctorate of existence
You, me and the money it doesn’t buy behind it.

You’re the big winner….contest(ed)

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , on May 16, 2011 by JenJuice

Losing the thought among the lost and wretched…the masses
Sipping the spit off the rims dripping from the institutions of “you’re the big winner!”
Competition of the mystery rivals
Sensations with the misery of compliances
I only talk if I have something to say…
Not so much of a covert(ed) mistress of your life
“There she goes again”..they say.
Walking all over the faces of immortal treasury
And the fucked and saluted ignorant of the nation that preys…
Off the resistance of how much I care is how much I feel
Not holding onto it..kinda like the way…I let go of every little
Thing in my life…
Even you….lost interest in your weaknesses
Just like the infomercials rising a speak from
My alter-dreamer last night around 8:03pm (censored).

A Soul with no Title…..

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , on May 15, 2011 by JenJuice

Where does the knife drop in the mourning
Light shining like an Eiffel Tower
On my porcelain skin – glowing.
That soft spot
Where I lay thin
in the wreckage
Of the battery
Solitude and the horizon of the missing persons
Lost to a grim foundation of broken bottles and
The year of the cock
Backed-up and forgot where to begin
Caught some place between the fall and the truth
gazing directly through
the sink or swim
Of how so many have no place in the vision
Dividing the sight, the penetration and the barrage of
Collisions…

Simply the way I see- it isn’t the truth at all…just my truth
Of the battle scars and the rendering cinema between the fallacy
Movement and memoirs incongruent through the rubble.

Navigation becomes like a fork to my daily routine
Trying to sip water with a metal plated limb doesn’t really
Seem relative to the way things drown in the room around the
Movement sitting on my porch of sin…(thoroughly collecting data)
Like the crater in my stomach watching the wounded
Molest its way out of battle…
only the strong survive.

You can’t fix….Stoopid.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , on May 12, 2011 by JenJuice

You can’t fix stoopid…My anti-autobiography related
To the non-relation to the family
And where did I come from? Cuz, the last time
I saw the torrid affair between the monitor
And the past I’ve been resurrected from…
Shown nothing like the doll complacent
Like I show….except, only if I really really like you.-
Then there is the abrasive abandonment of characteristics
and a pretty smile to jack up the disinterment of the lollipop
in my mouth..that somehow turns them on like you wouldn’t believe..
and I don’t..believe.
in much..just the way of the road I see..and don’t.
Cuz mothers and fathers don’t really hail an existence of hope
– just a feux dial and a mocked adventure
When I crouch down and hold the phone
I lock up around my neck and choke…
And deep breath for the miles and miles
Of heretics…that soak
The moments and the non-logic and the sacred senses
And somehow, I always find a way out….

Truth….

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , on May 4, 2011 by JenJuice

Hold on to the darkest part of me
In the midst of the darkest place fondled
By chivalry and the nothing less
Than you and the way I reach out
Because I know how
You bleed out
and feel you
And the life
We are
The most part of the way
It will never be the same with another
And plagued to this notion
Of the way I see your face
In the mirror
And…
In an every minute and every
Drenched face
The next
Is not happening
And you shoved me away..
How I don’t listen to my friends
When they say you’re no
Good in every way
and everything you do
To take
Me down and
Rule the world
Yet,
I never see
Because
I’ve always seen the truth
In you and
In me.

40(ish) days and One thousand Forty-Nine sweaty nights……

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , on April 29, 2011 by JenJuice

40 days and one thousand forty-nine sweaty nights
locked in the gravity
running through the simple insanity
the masquerade
of the numbers finding the pretty book of
implosive thunder and lightning
looking up to the girls that have nothing going on below the hips
and sucking it all up
and spitting out the relatives
nonsense comes in backward forms –
of shallow existences and
smoke and mirrors
swimming in a forum of
truth and relativity
mixed with showing pervasive shared identities –
when sometimes you just need to know
where the illusions are
and disillusionments cease to begin…