Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

I Drove You Crazy

I didn’t plan to spend so much time,

inside your mind.

Sweet sailor valentine,

dressed up in denim,

and your mother’s money,

precocious brocialist baby boy,

that I just couldn’t resist.

I never meant to mean so much,

just summer love,

or something to study,

but there I was,

traipsing through your mind.

It was just the summer.

My own was somewhere else,

sometimes,

when we kissed,

under sing song stars.

You complained about my expensive and excessive lipgloss,

and I made a mental note,

to punish you forever,

but,

you must understand,

I never meant like this.

I never meant to mean so much,

because I thought we were pretend,

so I was unaware of why you started to cry,

when I called you,

offering homework help,

and liquorice.

It was just liquorice. 

I never meant to move in to your mind.

I never meant to mean so much.

You must understand,

I didn’t think I had the right,

but,

still,

I dove inside,

and drove you crazy,

so you say.

I never meant to mean so much.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Planting Roses

No bars to break,

but here I am,

surrounded by searching space,

a prisoner,

encased in ivy,

that I have imagined,

grew side by side,

with the roses we planted.

 

 

I never knew my charge,

but I was sentenced to be sped,

back to the real world,

on several delayed trains,

with barely there air conditioning,

and piece by piece,

I felt each flower fall,

all around me.

 

 

The empty, invisible walls tell tales,

and I can’t tell which voice is yours,

anymore,

because the rain still falls,

and the wind still wails,

but I’m not sure they’re really there.

I’m not sure where it hurts,

I just know that it does,

and I know why it does,

even if that isn’t “proper science”.

 

I don’t know if you’ll wait for me,

or how long you’d have to wait,

but I know I need you to.

I remember this kind of crying,

thirteen,

Hastings beach,

knowing my world wouldn’t fit into a quaint country village,

not just the bright lights,

I had dreamed of,

for as long as I knew how to dream,

but a love.

I wanted a love,

that I couldn’t yet describe,

and maybe never could.

 

 

Again,

twenty three,

pausing at Preston,

with my heart in my throat,

poking it’s way out,

with razor blades and regret,

knowing it had found the love,

but not the words,

to explain how essential it was.

 

 

It never ends,

it only eases,

until it doesn’t,

and then,

I am back behind bars,

that cannot be broken,

by anything but,

freedom to be locked away,

planting roses,

with you,

and watching your excited eyes,

as we we wait for them to grow.

 

img_1926.jpg

I could walk away,

at any second,

out the door,

into the sunset,

under a train,

but with each step,

the chains of my choice,

and the punishment it brings others,

would grow heavier,

until my legs broke,

and my torso wept.

 

 

Give me rain,

or sun,

or death.

Give me some way,

to make each moment just a moment,

rather than a reminder,

that I have a life,

and a job,

and a whole realm of responsibilities,

that don’t include planting roses,

with you,

and watching your excited eyes,

as we we wait for them to grow.

 

 

Give me hope,

that one day,

I will find a time,

when I can survive on the inside,

and see it more as the outside,

real life,

my life,

without you.

 

 

Tell me that I’ll survive,

even if you’re lying,

or,

better yet,

lie down,

keep my side of the bed warm,

rain roses from the roof,

petals,

settled in the sheets,

growing strong under bright lights,

waiting for me to make parole.

 

 

I’ve found the words now.


Enter The Poetry Competition here

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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Summer Sun

When the sun goes down,
I still shade my view,
with blue hearts,
so you can’t see,
my aching eyes,
that want more than the summer,
from you.

The rest of me,
is just as crazy about you,
I bury myself under soft sand,
waiting for waves to tell me what went wrong.
I already know.
I watch you,
through blue hearts,
broken-hearted eyes,
soft sand,
and summer regrets.

summer sun jennifer juan.jpg

It’s not your fault,
if I said yes,
to summer,
thinking it could last forever,
but I’ll always hate you,
just as much as I love you,
for being so close,
but disappearing,
with the setting sun.

Winter approaches,
with the sun,
in fleeting,
fortunate moments,
but it doesn’t feel the same on my skin.
I’ve hoarded my memories of you,
set out like a shrine,
atop the soft, sombre sand,
that knows it will never be the same,
now you’re gone.


Enter The Poetry Competition here

Order “Kissing Boys, Just For The Thrill” here

Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Listen to “2AM” here

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Ladylike

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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Movies, Personal, Writing

New Video: I Want To Be Joan Crawford

Hola amigos,

Today, I have another new video, based on my poem “I Want To Be Joan Crawford” from my new book.

I hope you enjoy it!

Besos,

J x


Enter The Poetry Competition here

Order “Kissing Boys, Just For The Thrill” here

Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Listen to “2AM” here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Notes To My Muse
Are You Afraid?
Ladylike

RECENT BLOGS
Release Day
2AM Music Video
Why I Hate Dating In The Modern World

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