Wednesday, December 31, 2014

So he dumped our insides out
Together on ripped wax paper,
And he wanted us to talk about them,
But all we could do was stare.
Some parts of us were frozen,
Others, pale and watery,
Only recognizable to me
Were the undigested peas and corn.

And it didn't seem much to think about,
Much less to give a voice to it,
And so the room stayed quiet,
Like our quiet desperate lives.


Monday, December 29, 2014

The puddle that was my love for you
Dried up,
And a flower grew in its place,
And parrots flew
And nested in its bush.
And the flower bloomed
And made seeds
For orioles and parakeets
All the way from Tyre to Kush
Until there were beautiful
Streams in the desert,
And all the prophecies came true.
And the colorful flowers, blooms, and seeds,
Finches, wrens, and parakeets
All sing and play and dance unto
The mystic music
Of love
That conquers all.

Hush baby hush
let the wind make the promise
hush baby hush
don't talk now but only listen
your dreams are small
but there is a quiet whisper
that speaks to us all
of our clandestine bigness

You are too young
To go off on a tangent
Stay within the center here
Until you see your calling
There are easy ways
And distraction
Stay until you see so clear
The way that you should go

It doesn't really matter
If the world can't see your progress
What they consider day is night to you
So stand and breathe and know
That already
Is upon you
And already you can stand
against the flow


Saturday, December 27, 2014

I stood on a high mountain.
I looked deep into the past,
But I could not discern a clear image,
For it was too distant.
So I looked the other way,
As far as I could into the future.
It was too far away, too,
And everything was fuzzy.

So I looked up.
The sun was right above my head.
It shone down on me in all its noonday strength.
I closed my eyes so I could see it better.
And as I did,
I felt the song of creation beam down
Upon the soft spot in my infant head.
It gave me great hope and light
To the very core of my soul.


Friday, December 26, 2014

I'm going away to live with the Amish.
I've fallen in love with their tips.
I'm going to learn the best ways to clean cast iron,
And how to keep rust off my tin snips,
How to make apple cider vinegar,
And peel onions minus the tears,
How to turn the fire up under the grease
Without any qualms or fears.

Cause you know ?
That second batch of taters has to be cooked a little better.
Folks ain't as hungry as they were before,
And full people can just be so critical.


Wednesday, December 24, 2014

I have nothin to say
But say itself
I let my muffins do the talkin

Oh yes honey
Muffins do speak
They tell it all
Doncha know

Binary code
Of scent
And taste
When under duress

Irradiation changes things
Message is clear
Merrrry Christmas Muffins
For everyone <3


Monday, December 22, 2014

There is no proof
Like an old proof.
The best are chiseled in stone
Or left in a seldom seen comment box
At the height of social media.
But no matter,
For even Time won't tell,
But only the Treasure one imparts
To the deceptive second hand
And the Sacred Geometrical TrueLove along the way.


Saturday, December 20, 2014

Philosophy is just a kid
Waiting to open his presents
Wanting what he wants
And wondering what actually lies
So hidden

Religion is the ritual
Wrapping and unwrapping
The disappointment
Or surprise
Based from expectations high or low

Revelation holds the key
Exquisite mystery unfolding
In every deeper understanding
Forthcoming out of Love

- jenn

Friday, December 19, 2014

I've waited thirty years
To send a message back to you,
So that I would not violate
Your cosmology.
You believe the speed of light
Is 186,282 miles per second
Or, we'll say "c,"
But that is only in a vacuum, my dear.

But if your mind could open to me,
You could hear me calling you now.
You would would see
Me holding unconventionally.
You would see my impatient,
Indecent behavior
As I wait,
And you would see "c" accurately.

- jenn

Thursday, December 18, 2014

The world is my oyster.
It's yours, too.
But I don't like oyster,
Or oyster stew,
So it's a hungry existence I find.

There's some leftover fruit,
But I don't know what part.
Someone's eaten all the cumquats,
And all that's left here is a piece
Of it's rind.

I come empty handed to you,
Like a child
With a a weedy flower or two,
Or something he's found in the road:
A button,
A penny,
Some plastic art.

But you, come,
Like a little child, too,
And let's enter the gates of heaven
And blow dandelions
And play hide and seek
With my near broken heart.


Wednesday, December 17, 2014

The truth came by to tell me why,
But I was busy vacuuming.
Red breasted robins came early to sing
And tell me the best spots to
Picnic in spring,
But I didn't listen,
Until the lilacs kissed me.

Dewy lips and libidinous tongue--
I shut my eyes and mouth as one
And lent a little more than an ear,
Open to the forbidden words
So undersaid,
Open to the petitioner
Who told me how he missed me,
Open to the moment,
And the delicious taste
Of the lilacs as they kissed me.

The ancient wound healed suddenly
And left no trace of pain or scar.
A gentle wind answered my angry question
And left me dazed and dizzy,
And hopelessly in love with you,
And never too tired or busy
To miss the chance to sing or dance
Or laugh,
Or let the lilacs kiss me.


Sunday, December 14, 2014

I'm lost amid a million suction cups.
I've floated free from the roots
And wander in the maze of bulbous swellings.
They move along a cold shore,
And I with them.

When I see the brilliant coral,
I stop and make a wish,
That I will come to understand my home
Here amongst the starfish.

Love washes over my ugly places,
Replaces them with beauty,
Fills them in like a magic coat
Of satin on a painting left undone.
It shades me in and colors me,
Gives me dimension and texture,
Finishes my scars and places
Left broken down.

And carefully, and tenderly,
Love wraps me up and hides me,
Carries me off to the one true place
Where I can be myself.
And there, in the midst of exquisite glory,
Time stops
And allows me
To see myself as Love sees
The finished me.


Friday, December 12, 2014

Peas and green beans, ham and a small yam
All baked together til they didn't give a damn
Whether they were eaten today or tomorrow
Or the next, in joy, or in sorrow.
They were snubbed without once being tasted,
And thrown into a garbage pail, and wasted
Four dollars and njnety-three cents or ruther---
The fiasco I refer to as supper!

If I renounce my dreams because I know
That by renouncing them they will come to pass,
Am I really letting anything go?
And will my dreams come true then, anyway?

And if I love a butterfly and set it free,
And watch it flutter off without an aim
To let it live somewhere on its last day,
Will it ever come back to me?

And if I dream of the butterfly's return,
And see it's fractal colors lined with black
Like the stained glass in an empty church,
Will I be glad that the butterfly is back?


Wednesday, December 10, 2014

This is what makes a Goddess good:
Scowling eyes,
Furrowed brows,
And obvious doubts.

Doubts don't diminish me anymore.
I've stood too many times in the river
And seen the carefree wink
Of the stars and the nudge
That steers THEM by.
And I know that nudge
In a personal way,
And the warm laughter
Of peace and pure joy.

And my life, hidden from the scowls of men,
Is right and true and powerful.
And I will win!
Again and again
And again!


Monday, December 8, 2014

Come and lay your head on mine.
Let us think together.
For two heads are better than one,
They always say.

And I will close my eyes and dream,
While you kiss me on the mouth,
And tell me we have thought enough
For one day.

And now I can see far into precession,
Twenty-six free falling thousand years,
At gravity, that starts at minus nine,
But ends at zero.

And now I can see that even the Sun
Tries to come back to one-pointed centeredness,
Tries to go step in the same stream twice,
For even the Milky Way
Calls for a Hero.


Friday, December 5, 2014

This furry little bag of bones
I call my cat,
Is soft and fluffy and wonderful
And all that,
And in the middle of the night
He jumps up on my bed
And walks up my legs
To my back, beneath my head,
And he sits,
And he purrs.

His purr is loud and effortlessly so,
And if you could see the sound
Then you would know
That he, like a beacon
Shines a welcome light
Of love and affirmation.
Into the night, he beams
Unmistakably, o'er the fog and squall,
"This is herrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,