Archive for the ‘repetition’ Category


Posted: September 24, 2012 in alone, clarity, confusion, destiny, facts, hope, lonliness, love, me, poetry, repetition

don’t hold my hand, i don’t want it to mean something

don’t kiss my lips, i don’t want it to mean something

don’t press your bare skin up against mine, i don’t want it to mean something

don’t tell me i’m beautiful

don’t tell me i’m smart

or witty

or charming

or full of insight

or moxy

i don’t want it to mean something

don’t come swooping into my life

consuming me

wrapping my wholeness in glitter and glitz

and warmth and optimism

and titillating promises of futures

i don’t want it to mean something

don’t insult me

don’t neglect me

don’t take me for granted

don’t stop seeing who i AM

don’t make me leave with less than i came in with

i don’t want it to mean something


Posted: August 27, 2012 in alone, clarity, confusion, destiny, hope, lonliness, love, me, poetry, repetition

evicted and evacuated

panic my companion and leader

traversing the same road

blindfolded by the thickness

attempting escape of the round rubber room

i fall and fail

staying down hopes for dissipation









Posted: August 26, 2012 in alone, clarity, confusion, destiny, lonliness, love, me, poetry, repetition

well travelled
from verbose to morose
nothing found in empty arms
and still

life breathing
heart beating
earth spinning
unaffected and unrejected

walk about as i was born
comfortable and secure
longing only in weakness
knowing my appalling calling

between life’s tread and dead
i do not blink or sink
no surprise or sunrise
just more breathing and deceiving


Posted: July 23, 2012 in alone, clarity, destiny, hope, lonliness, love, me, poetry, repetition

casual words scarify the now dead dream with permanence

sharing sleep doesn’t mean you share dreams

neither does love

or love

have i lost myself again?

me contingent on you

you defining me

me nameless, tasteless, and out of touch

like a dream of naked high school hallways

i resume the traveless walk

or the journey to your destination

blinded to the forks, splits and reality

i look to my empty hand and trace the shallow lines

with my own fingers

mapping the life ive been missing





born to die alone

ever surrounded by the untouchable




i knew this would come

stifled by the space

and darkness

familiar streets

the same old faces haunting the same old haunts

blocks i could circle with my eyes closed

the heaviness

the sadness

the cheese in the acme rat trap

i am not here

though my fingerprints scar the neighborhoods and predictable street signs

i never was here

she was me but i was not her

and here i am

unable to fill her shoes

and unwilling

smothered by the need to drive and “find something to do”

knowing the steps to its funeral march

i am paralyzed by my coordinates

suffocated regrets of never leaving and always returning

i am not her

yet it cleverly calls her name

and the emptiness in my heart

is programmed to respond

To this day, I’ve never known what I’ve wanted to be when I grew up. Sure, I can drop some wonderful answer or answers that make me sound driven and focused, but those answers are just like my mind, dreamy. I have babysat children until they no longer needed supervision. At the movies, I was your ticket girl. Copy, collate, bind, laminate and things of these ilk saw me from Illinois to North Carolina. I’ve convinced you of how great you looked in over priced and under styled clothing. My day was filled with checking yourself and your mistress, dealer, gay lover or lonely soul into hotel rooms, no questions asked. Drink mixer, personal counselor, girl with the rack and bitch for hire blanketed my eyes for a few years from the giving end of the bar. I’ve help children stand straight, walk correctly, recover from injuries and colic as your friendly desk girl at your Chiropractor. None of these things, are who I am.

Before an age even the most egregious sweat shop would hire me, I have written. I have sang. I have crafted. I have loved clothing. I have gazed into distinctive windows of kitschy houses. I have strained my neck grasping for glimpses of the apex of sky scrapers. I have instinctively changed diapers, fed soft milky lips and patted soft spined backs. Is this who I am? My bank account would argue that, “No ma’am all evidence states to the contrary.” It kinda feels like me, left to my own inner thoughts, but does that matter?

Ever since I was a little girl I never understood why I felt directed to be something other than what I felt. I should want dolls, not Han Solos. My toys should reflect a future dictated by television reruns from a past that truly never existed. Likewise, so should my career and self-image. Wouldn’t it be great to be a teacher? Or a nurse? Or a softball player? Or thinner? Or have a bigger ass? Or the girl who makes boys fight for her affections? Or drunk? Or high? Or miserable to the point of being incapacitated for days? Wouldn’t it be grand? Think of the possibilities! And when you find yourself legally adulted, you’ll have no idea who you were, are, and will be. Instead, you’ll have a carpet bag of failures, diagnoses and vertigo. My name is Jennifer, and I am a…an uncertainty.

The funny thing is, if I look back, I can be resentful and angry and enraged that I was passed along from one person’s ideal to another. The momentum started before I realized my voice, opinion or self-knowledge had merit. Yet here I am, fine. Not “fine” in the teeth clenched, white knuckled grip of adult denial, fine like okay. I made it through all that topsy turvy undirected, yet pushed and pulled life. I’m not angry. I’m not sad. I have no regrets. I do have something all that made me aware of. I have a survival instinct that should instill fear in the black soul of my oppressors. Inside of me, there is a voice that will stay quiet as I bumble through life gathering lessons and scars and debt and vices, until it is time to go. And when that time arrives, I am a force of reckoning. There will be no discussion. I will not issue you a receipt. Exit stage left.

Rest, recovery time, reconstruction, reparations will follow, some times quickly, some times slow and laboriously. Then I stand. I resume my universal walk about. Looking back is only to recall the origin of my acute  inconvenient pains and use those memories positively, usually to make you laugh at my jokes or wallow in my poetry. With my constantly evolving and patched up soul, I glide through my days gazing into distinctive windows of kitschy houses, strain my neck grasping for glimpses of the apex of sky scrapers, I  instinctively change diapers, feed soft milky lips and pat soft spined backs. Then I write it all down, in some way shape or form. As only a person who has lived is capable of.


Posted: June 9, 2012 in clarity, facts, me, poetry, repetition

amputated tongue
mouth stitched usless
words escape & mutiny
time sucking syllables
scarred into mind, soul & ear
speech becoming screeching
mind & heart void of consideration
the meaning long lost
motives made moot
phonetic failure my only fortitude

i see the flicker across your face
the smell oozes from your pores
more dead than alive
you gasp for air
heart nonetheless beating
beating for spite & out of habit
stale exhales cross dry unkissed lips
artificial hair color
makeshift soul
heartless sleeves hide your scars
journeys void of straight lines
heels hardened by hellish walks
you are me
i am you
unless i change

itd be a lie to say i never lie
i lie to myself
i lie with men who lie to me
my heart upon a shelf

i yearn for the honesty
though it scares my soul to death
unsure id even handle it
and manage the management of breath

seems odd to brace off truth
seems odd to run from fact
but run i have and run i will
never looking back

true truth is self created
self truths the elusive dream
unfrequented often foreign
uncomfortably tearing seems

can i fault you for who you are
can i ever trust your word
lies from self & others
the only things ive heard

tenuous tedious time tried & tired
i haven’t seen the mountain top
i’ve just heard it exists
slippery sliding stranded & sucked dry
crying out to the echoes & the ether
looking for a new path in my old grooved & worn road
eyes dry distracted divided & dumb
resistance is as futile as lies
heart educated by repetitive madness
crushed cracked crazy & checked out
no longer tethered by hopes stone
the little red balloon departs my heart
exhaustion of excuses explanations & eternity
i float in the linear streams of truth
sinking, all the while strapped to your back


Posted: January 28, 2012 in clarity, destiny, karma, love, me, poetry, repetition

subjects buried
never realized
or dug up from the depths of eternity

the stillness
the buoyancy
the ebb and flow of the past present and future

long ago
far away
separated from unity like splintered unmade introductions

washed up
dried up
life crept back into the ever waiting vessel of opportunity

evolving isolation
eyes opening
we discovered the strange neighbor in eternity’s plan

never new
far from familiar
reminders of who we are who were we and who we may yet be

soul twined stranger

here again
to remind me
to remember
do better
be clever
let go with the mated collective love coated hope

never promising
simply stating
live, feel, learn, grow, move, and it will never ever cease to BE

so this is not the mood i expected to end my day with.

when i woke i was…..alright

when i dressed…i was ok…

as i ran to get my check & pay bills i was good…

all nite at work i felt better.

and then when he called and was on his way home

i was GREAT…

when he first showed up i was AWESOME!

and then…

let me preface with the fact that my parents raised me

as i was a key to the future…

and their solution to that,

was controlling me through most of my adult life.

when i have lived with my bf’s i was in charge of the finances

& kept our heads above water even if i needed a second job…

but when i live with “them”

my spending & credit report deteriorates my future…

nuff said…

so today…

because of my wanton need for futures so bright and trees of

green…red roses too…

i cashed my own check…

took the cash & over paid 2 bills by a few bucks

i did things people like u do all the time

that i usually only do once a year at tax return….

i went to fuck ass walmart

bought a body wash i like

mascara i prefer

cover stick im compelled to believe i need

got vitamins to avoid the flu

bcp to avoid a MISTAKE

a new foot pumice as mine broke today

a facial cleanser that works great for me

a body lotion i like for fall/winter

and spent short of 58 dollars

and still had money to buy quarters for wash

and enough to get through and possibly contribute a bit…

and as i said…

fuckery ensued

lead in with wanna hear what i did today that made me happy?

with my walmart bag in tow…

and was met with the infamous “high five grown up 34 yr old”

well ok

but my life is my life

it doesnt suit me to envy or empathize to reborn myself sans


this is my life.

today was good.

and maybe my life has lead me to want more than sarcasm

when i just wanted an ear.

i feel lonely.

and very out of control.

i feel like my life has always been contingent.

and so far ive felt like it no longer is…but hes more um…

i dunno, like my dad & mom mixed & on crack

in a bad way at times like that.

then hes all brown sugar & real butter.

and it sux that he opens his home to me but i cant say i love u.

im so sad now.

so confused.

and as ive said a million times…

this crazy bitch wants to run FAST!!

whether its the same or a whole new deal.

the only thing that could fix this is a day of no obligation.

getting prettied up because i WANT to.

smelling good.

a movie i pick.

dinner somewhere i pick…

not some quick garbage where god forbid u enjoy the moment

& enjoy a conversation


i feel like a has been barely cute housewife

& i dont even say i love u

and will always be petrified to…

even if i get mail here.


but welcome to jenny folks!

i need a fucking vacation!

and tomorrow i will dumb it up for money…as usual…

and smile & die slowly inside

& not get any of what i  want at most what i need.

and be the illegally died pink poodle

& jump those hoops like a pro

& wake up …

try…get disappointed………..




35 yr old grown up






hike hike hike!

have a great week grown ups!

im glad that you now feel the responsibility. there are people we affiliate with that are unwell…as if we should speak, but we have the misfortune of outwitting our emotions, at times. i have cleared the shit for anyone who may have gotten victorian and need their moment. i will do it again. i always query why im so burdened, yet the first to be discarded…..sorry i think i wrote a poem there or something. im half buzzy, and now question if im allowed more than 4 hours, in humanities time, to feel joy. i feel each second that surpasses that, one is taken from the next incident. i feel so entitled to a moment of pleasure in anothers comany. sorry…i feel flowery.  could it be im raw and sincere and poetic?!?! if forced to answer, id protest too much. i maintain my relentlessness and integrity. proceed with the crucifixion and martyrdom. i accept. i am defined.


Posted: January 27, 2011 in confusion, lonliness, me, repetition

my life is a hellish hamster wheel

i want to jump off

that could result in injury

or vice versa

maybe somebody can stop it

then id just owe them something

round and round i go