Galaxy

The mother spilled her milk
in our corner of the universe
milk, the sustenance
of babies
of all warm mammals
with heartbeats
and eyes
is it any wonder
that our experience
of creation
is called
the Milky Way

~Jenny

I can’t remember
when these jeans
I am wearing
were new
and the knees
were not torn
and the buckle
didn’t constantly
come undone
and all of the rhinestones
were still in tact
I can’t remember
just like I can’t remember
why I have kept
that fucking
toaster oven
coach
bookcase
dresser
microwave
mattresses
big oozing
sores
that I have carried around
for years
from one place to another
shouting
you don’t deserve more
make due
make due
I should have saved
I should have saved
each dollar
as a testament
to how I feel
about myself
and a love note
to say
you
deserve more
and eventually
the things build
up
and they are not just things
but daily reminders
that I was worth it
I’m not 14 anymore
I’m 35
right on the edge
of becoming an adult
right on the edge
of giving a fuck
about myself
and what I want

~Jenny

Humor Me

I know I'm often all over the place on this blog
but the nice things is....it's MINE--
So today on the way to work I heard the below song.
I used to hear it sung by numerous people
when I used to go Karaoke.
I really never sung, unless I was extremely
drunk, I loved to listen to people sing.
There was the good, the bad and the ugly
about the life I was living.
But Dammit, it was fun at times, very fun.
and free---sitting at the table or at the bar
drinking beers.  Sitting at home, and on a whim
getting a call for some unplanned rabel-rousing.
And I will not lie.  I love a good dive bar every now
and then.  These days it seems to be more occasional
respectable like establishments that are not
closed down by any means, just briefly
visited and usually there is dinner
or some snacks involved.
With all these changes coming,
I feel as though I'm loosing myself
and going to the other end of the scale
the prissy lissy good lady scale.
Sometimes, you gotta fight for who you are
You gotta fight inside and out. With yourself
and those around you, and demand your right
to remain an individual, to pursue your dreams
remember your spunk and your strength
stand up for what you love, and what you hate
who you were, who you are and who you say
you never will become.
So--I like a good dive bar every now and then
and I like my hair just so, and I like some cases
of the Fuck-its---we're all allowed those moments
cause when you set aside the dive bars
and the occasional case of the Fuck-its
and replace them with all households goods, respectable,
starched collar only, do as I say, second guessing
yourself to the point you can't make a decision
for  yourself anymore, that's when the heart attacks come.
That's when tiredness perpetuates and feeds off itself,
and that's when you let your dreams get eaten.
Turn it up.  It's good.
~Jenny

"Jobs for People Who Don't Like People"

This was the title of an article on Yahoo today.
I do not have any of the qualifications for the jobs listed.
Such as computer programmer, accountant etc. However,
I am a writer, and I am an introvert~the article mentions both.
It's nice to know that I'm not a freak though.  This article
brought a lot of comfort.  I don't like to make small talk, usually.
I feel very uncomfortable around groups of people.
It hurts my skin sometimes. Sometimes more than others,
and it becomes unbearable.  And I don't want to pretend
to be a social butterfly, or to posses amazing social graces anymore.
I love my people, that's different.  My people are my family,
my boyfriend/best friend, animals, a couple friends, very few
here and there.  Books, art, music, movies, nature.
The older I get, the more introverted I seem to become.
The less I want to try.  It's nice to know I'm not "alone"
as ironic as that may sound.  That there are others out there
who feel this way too.

~Jenny 

I have the Van Gogh blues
whirling
in swirling colors
in my mind
there is no one
place
where each stroke
ends
and the next begins
the painting
tells a continuous story

and other artists
and writers
visit too
there will be ladies
on the lawn
having tea
there will be women
with umbrella’s
holding a child’s hand
there will be figures
with haunting
mysterious stares

I will not eat the paint
but I will sit
on the bench
in the museum
during my sleeping hours
and just gaze
the pictures
make no sense
they do not speak
they only feel

sometimes
I live
in a yellow house

~Jenny

Casual Conversations

when you come to the end
of the line
I will be there
when I come to the end
of the line
you will be there
with dandelions
in our hair
it all doesn’t make sense
not now
bear fountains
with light up eyes
and smoke
maybe I should have
kept my mouth shut
they don’t understand
doling out snippets
of washed up memories
coming out awkward
and afraid
self analyzing
the bullshit

~Jenny

11/11

It's good that this day
came and went
without me even realizing
what day it was

It's good that this day
came and went
with me going to the doctor
to take care of myself
with me showing up for work
and paying my dues

It's good that this day
came and went
like 17 years ago
faded into oblivion

We are not meant to hold on
to things
but to let go
and live

I'm still standing

~Jenny

Suburbs

She rode that pink huffy all over the neighborhood
white wheels, cushy pink seat, and it flew like the wind.
Especially the time her friend’s dog Bandit, such a mean old
yellow dog, always barking and snarling wanting to bite somebody,
just waiting till the day he got free of the fence so he could sink
his teeth into her flesh, chased her all the way down the street.
That bastard dog hopped the fence, barking and running after her
she peddled hard and fast as she could with his teeth and saliva
and barking right on her heels, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs.
She turned the corner, almost home, almost home, “how the hell am I gonna
hop off this bike and run in the gate without him getting me?” She thought
while she peddled and screamed.  She turned that corner and that dog fell back,
stopped his chasing and barking and salivating, she out peddled
and out screamed him, but around that corner, right
there was another bastard, that older than her next door neighbor
Danny, laughing his fool head off. He had seen, and heard the whole thing.
It seemed he was always there, watching, waiting to make some fun of her,
or anyone, just like that dog couldn’t wait till the day he could hop the fence.
One time, her bedroom facing his in the house next door, he caught her,
caught her dancing her little girl fool head off, dancing up a storm with
the pink mini blinds wide open.  And he may have said something, the day after
at the bus stop. Or he may have just stood there, pointing and laughing again.

Foaming With Dreams

Carried away
I get carried away
on the big sea
in the big waves
blue and green
sometimes
tossed and turned
sometimes riding high
looking on at the distant shores
of every possibility
and I trust ocean
sometimes forgetting
the ocean behaves
as she wants
and I am simply here
along for the glorious ride

~Jenny

Anatomy

notice the heart
located
in the left cavity
of the chest
pumping
it’s red love
essence
to make it’s way
up into the brain
to permeate the noodles
in that sauce
that gives it flavor
flexibility
and ethers
of right thinking
notice the heart
it is the size
of a fist
lightly clenched
releasing
and squeezing
releasing
and squeezing
those we love

~Jenny

Emotion

"Vulcans, as a matter of custom and policy, suppress or think past all emotional influence by living lives of rigid emotional self-control through meditative techniques and training of mental discipline. Vulcans are not depicted as having no emotions; although they themselves make this claim, Vulcans are an exceptionally emotional people. They developed techniques to suppress their emotions precisely because of the damage they can cause if unchecked. In one episode of Star Trek: Voyager, Tuvok explains that Vulcans' natural emotions are "erratic and volatile"; if Vulcans do not strongly repress emotions, they can get violently angry in an instant. T'Pol once stated that paranoia and homicidal rage were common on Vulcan prior to the adoption of Surak's code of emotional control. In the original series episode "The Savage Curtain", Spock meets Surak and displays emotion, for which Surak reprimands him, and he asks forgiveness." From Wikipedia

Hearts

It’s something tangible
lying there
dying on the floor
it’s in the hospice care stage
and I know the end is coming
and I cried over it
like I did him
instead of reading bible passages
like I really wanted to
but was afraid
I would look dumb
or that wasn’t what he wanted
I can read them now
he said it would be ok
I cried over it
uncontrollably
they saw my secret place
as I held my hand
to my heart
and now I know
that no matter
the consequences
of that pouring out
that it was love
pure love
and honor
for another
honor
for all of our places here on this earth
a tribute for all of our actions
roles we play
friends we make
people we come to love
it was an expression
of love.

~Jenny

Your Soles

what’s on the soles
of your feet
are they hard
or soft
new
or worn
dirty
or clean
would you like
to have them anointed
with oil
would you like
to have them anointed
with perfume
would you like
a carefully placed hand
to press it’s fingers
into just the right spot
and release them
are they wrinkly
are they smooth
do they stink
have you washed them
today
do you go to bed
with them dirty
do you rub them
against your lovers
under the blankets
do they hurt
do they feel good
do they like to feel
the warm sun baked sand
on their surface
what kind of shoes
do you cover them with
sandals
business shoes
heels
flats
tennis shoes
or do you
leave them bare

~Jenny

Generosity

I dreamt last night
that there was something wrong
with my heart
and they opened me up
to fix it

I feel bad
you have to do
everything for me
when you fill my belly
fill my tank
fill my pocket
so I can give it away
to creditors
it makes me cry inside
and it fills my heart

and makes me wish
there was something
I could do for you
besides love you
the best that I can
each day

and use the word
appreciate
but it seems so little
compared to the pile
that has been built up
the pile of unselfish
deeds
and gestures
next to my ant hill
makes me feel ashamed
and I wish there was
something more
I could do.

~Jenny