A Little Look Back….

Hola amigos reflexivos,

I hope you’re doing well. I’ve been enjoying the extra hour of sunlight (as tarnished by rain as it may be in jolly old England), and am ready to embrace summer time.

I’m not sure what I’ll be doing this summer, but I’m sure I’ll have a lot of fun.

Thank you so much for the recent feedback and comment on my latest work, it is very kind of you and I really appreciate it.

I recently found my old blogspot, and managed to salvage a few pieces from the wreck that was my astonishing (and not always in a good way) childhood blog, so I’ve adapted some of them and added them to my latest set of poems, which you can see below. I promise, they aren’t all tragic teenage ramblings.

It was interesting to look back on my older work. Sad in a few places, and hopeful in others. There are dreams I had for myself that have yet to come true, but could do, some day. I hope yours do too.

Besos,

J x

RECENT WORK

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What Jen Did Next

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bigger than satan jennifer juan

Us

Years of delicious drama,
in my head, I guess,
when I rewrote our story,
when I still had us.

When every smile had subtext,
even when empty.
Rejection was sweet hoping.
“One day” I would weep.

Alas, today, no denial,
you are mine, at last.
Except, you’ve gone off the script,
this isn’t my us.


Morning Mourning

Winter watches breath dance from him,
day begins, longing to be close.
Don’t we all? So many words fight,
throughout my mind, to belong to him.

I lost me, sleeping surrender.
Watched him dive, though he couldn’t swim,
past great white doubts, to pull me free.
Mouth to soul, I’m born in his arms.

Birds awake no one that matters,
he is already up. My heart,
she wasn’t ready, never will,
belong to me again, now there is him.


Bigger Than Satan

Dark eyed rock star,
legends in my wake.
Always on the run,
always on your lips.

Pin up my palms,
you can’t nail my voice.
Unstoppable J,
Charlie turned to me.

You’ll come crawling,
when death comes calling.
No “I told you so.”
Come home, to the twelve.

Miss misquoted,
I know where I’ve been.
Little believer,
bigger than Satan.


World

I’m tired of the world,
not being what I wanted for you.
My kiss, not warm enough,
to excite the icy heart, I’ve loved.
My eyes, blind to what’s next.
Hands that could not grasp, and keep you here.
I cursed the world, until,
I realised, I wasn’t the world.
Your heart travels and aches,
far outside of my domain.
You’re yours.


A Mealy Mouthed Reply

Peace torn from peaceful hands,
distant terror, not by your design,
though they crudely scratch names,
they never earned.

Walking mid life crisis,
confronts, retracts. Retweets, then deletes.
Denies your dignity,
begs for his own.


Lovely, Lonely

Lovely, lonely man,
don’t you get tired of keeping me awake?
Lovely, lonely hands,
even when they’re right, they feel like they’re mistakes.
I never ever do this,
I promise. Take me back to who I used to be.
Lovely, lonely me.
It’s true. No matter what I say. I’m burning,
for lovely, lonely you.


Bad Games

I’ll drink when I’m older,
but you want me now.
Place your order,
shed the girl, and make it work.
You tell me, it’s a game.

Never playing, just pushed.
Past won’t take me back,
but I still hope,
as you push, never waiting,
for girl to become woman.


Strawberry Gloss

Sure. She’s sweet.
Convinced yourself?
If you can,
then let me go.
Yet, I’m still tangled,
on your tongue.
Do you still taste me,
when you kiss?


Fast Fashion

Look good, pay less!
You are comfortable.
You are beautiful.
They were your cost.
Late transaction,
mass distraction.
Your shine, cheapened,
if you knew your cost.


Softly, Gently.

Ever so softly,
your pale and delicate fingers,
like straws wrap around it and pull.

Ever so gently,
I call to the pain,
beckon some kind of feeling.

Ever so softly,
I push at the numbness.
I push on a smirk.

Ever so gently,
we float through a forest,
our hands are the best of friends.

Ever so softly,
your fingers keep pulling,
and the sky grows dark and large above us.

Ever so gently,
I put all my faith in you,
and you pull all the heart out of me.


Old Films

“We can’t go back and change things.”
Must we return, at all?
If it paints you bad, today,
why hang it in the gallery?

“It was a different time, back then.”
Then if you’ve changed,
why do you cling to your past,
why call your shame “art”?

“It meant something different.”
Then I mean something different,
when I stare at your past,
and call your present “scum.”


Solo Amigos

Back up baby,
strings of dreams,
guide me to locked gates.

Broke master key,
I throw it,
your presence will do.

Cry, cry, cry, cry.
It will end.
Just give me more time.

I ask nothing,
of your heart,
I ask mine to stop.

Oh, silly heart,
do what’s right.
Please, be satisfied.


Writing To Carol

From girl to wolf woman,
it was your turn to lead.
In the woods,
short skirts and stanzas.
Though you were miles away.

Saw you in London, once.
Hiked up Covent Garden.
They did ask,
and yes, poetry.
From your throat, to my core.

If I’m to ever know,
or if I never do,
I have grown.
Under watchful words,
not intended for me.

I planned for Manchester,
never quite could, never quite will.
Heart broke down,
I camped by the stars,
wrote to you, wrote to me,
and then, the world.


Lovestruck

I tell the room “relax”,
close my eyes and ride it out.
I see it, even when blinded.
You can’t drink trouble, but I’ll try.

Sage all around the place,
but evil sticks to the walls.
I will open my eyes, some day,
when I’m ready for possession.

It will be too late then,
it always is. Moment gone.
I’ll still play kiss chase with demons,
and beg for the fear of new love.


Sleeps and Screams


Tall in voice, in height,
she’s constant conflict.
Warm words to cold lips.
Drag me, like one of your twitter girls.

Hands around my heart,
wish as lights go out.
All her world’s a rage.
Pastel power trips, and princess cuts.

I do what I can.
Pillow, scream or sleep,
much of a muchness,
for she is my love, in sleep and screams.


Rebirth Of The Naturalist

Future awaits
but you are in my past,
in my dying journal.
Once live.

I later learned,
traipsed through the wilds, eyes out.
When not covered in me,
I heard.

We’ve all been young,
sometimes we grow old too.
See, our faults grow with us,
I’ve seen.

I wrote you off.
An ironic mistake,
understanding comes now,
revisiting.


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