To Forgive Is Human

“I saw what you did,’ the woman sneered.

The hair stood up on the back of my neck.

I thought of how I’d scratched that inappropriate itch.

I didn’t think anyone saw.

But the woman wasn’t even addressing me,

But a poor little boy that stood—

Head hung down, posture drooped,

Eyes on the gritty ground.

We all do the best we can, Woman.

Are you casting the first stone, now,

When you have been forgiven much?

Where, oh, where is the love?

The upright stand,

Knowing imperfect

Is fine,

Knowing that itches come and go,

And to err

Is truly divine.

-jenn long

Going Somewhere

He was annoyed with himself—

That little catch in his spirit.

Ten-speed roaring past,

And his foot slipped off the pedal

Right there, and she saw it.

He coasted a minute,

Got himself re-situated,

And turned to see if she’d seen him err.

She had.

She smiled,

Watering her geraniums.

But it was he that should be sorry for her!

He was the whole one, he, the intelligent,

He, who was going somewhere.

There she sat in her own little puddle—

A yonic pool of nothing flat,

But she drew his orbit

Like the curve of space,

Like bees to the brim of her flowered hat.

-jenn long

HiddenSelf

I’ve always hidden my truest self

For fear that my realness would be too much,

That no one would like who I surely am.

But no more.

I am MySelf,

And if you don’t like me,

Maybe it is because the part of YourSelf that would,

Is hidden, too.

-jenn long

Light Is The Only Thing That Exists

Light is the only purity, element.
There is no earth, no wind, no fire.
There is no water flowing heavenly.
Only the Light is alive.

He popped up,
All Paperback 7,
Healing rainbow in his wings,

Stirring the images,

Shifting the paradigms,

But, Light is the only thing that exists.

Light is the only vital reality.
All things flow as a part and a parcel
Of the good, the acceptable, the perfect will.

There is nothing else at all—
No lack,
No incomplete.
The Light is alive—
Arc of brightness,
Living beam.
The extant stream,
Rolls thru the chaos.
Light is the only thing there is.

Light is the only thing that exists.

-jenn long

Death, The Great Control-Freak

Death, the great control freak comes,
To squelch the Self,
To silence effervescent laughter,
To pop the balloon of Living's random glee.
A date with him is always the same.
The dull monologue he calls conversation,
Is just another fear-breathed “sermon-you've-heard-before”—
On what not to taste,

What never to touch.
It can only be re-warmed so much,
Re-casseroled and served again.
But you don't have to eat it.
Death doesn't give better favors to the polite.

Death and Life both exert their forces upon us all.
The spirit of Death so boring, controlled, predictable.

But when Life comes,
Wanting to give you a hug,
Asking you to walk a mile with her—
Go two.
Forget about Death and let Life have her way.

Release your will and let yourself be rolled up in the abundant clover.
Allow the streaming bubbles to have their sway.
Opportunity to respond arises fresh, so unpredictable.
Ruts can be shattered.
Chains fall limp.
And even now,
The sand kicked up in our faces reminds,
We can abandon death and live.

-jenn long

Blue Harvest Moon

Blue harvest moon
Casts a bliss-like full
On you
Reaping the bounty
Of tiny, white asparagus blooms.

Your loving smile reaches me
From across the field.
Acres of time and distance all merge
Just south of our stony grey castle
And our twelve fine children,
Where orgasm has strewn
Tiny bursts of blinding white blossoms
Snowing up and down all around us.

A living stream of lightning strikes,
Knocking me flat down and thoroughly unconscious .
I wake and sit straight up in the fractal clusters—
Then—with straw and fresh leaves fluffed in my hair,
And rumpled layers of petticoats and skirts gathered up,
And now—completely unclothed in this king size bed.
The great membrane of the cosmos snaps to.
All time collapses together.
I subside together with you,

And I say,
“There is a God.”

-jenn long

Duality's Paradise

Another glorious day in paradise for sure!

Dark clouds and bad news,
And Yin says, "Beautipurr."

But there are things that I must do.
Heat and Sunshine, come!
Yin says, "Oh, pooh, pooh—"

I don't know just how she does it.
I never see her rush or fidget,
Yet all is calm and done.
So I want her—
So I chase—
She never runs.
But, in my haste,
I push her into day—
So far that night-ness comes.

Her shadow halts me.
I reverse my spin.
She comes longing,
Softly calling,

“Yang?
Yang?
Where are you, Dear?”

-jenn long