Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, politics, Writing

Naughty Tory

He said he was a bad husband,

but not a bad man,

not a criminal.

He says the case has been dropped.

He is a disgusting, slobbery mess.

He says it’s a misunderstanding.

He is chanting like a school yard maniac.

He says he’s a good man.

He had his face on her face.

He says he’s a victim.

He is a liar.

He sits in a palace,

full of bad husbands,

delusional dinner partners,

good men,

who’ve just had bad luck.

Broken girls,

who are all allegedly scheming,

to say those same bad words,

those shameful verses.

I said no.

I tried to run.

He chased me.

He hurt me.

He said he was a bad husband.

He was telling the truth.

He said he wasn’t a bad man.

He lied.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, politics, Writing

Abuela’s Ashes

They sense you,

you know,

your songs spill to the streets.

They hear you,

in the line outside,

discussing a new centrist party,

that will definitely work out,

and an article you read,

in Lenny,

about why ironic, hipster racism,

is actually the best weapon against the far right,

or something.

party jennifer juan.jpeg

They are hunting you,

as you enter the club,

but you are safe.

They watch you,

you know,

as the long suffering bar staff,

patiently wait for you to finish talking,

about this totally amazing girl you saw,

singing new wave acoustic death metal,

at the local fair trade coffee shop.

They can see that the bar staff want you to shut up,

order a drink,

and go away.

party jennifer juan 2

They see you,

dancing with your friends,

but,

as always,

you are safe.

They approach you.

They smile at you,

and from the pockets of their pressed suits,

they produce,

a bag of my abuela’s ashes.

You smile too,

and you are suddenly dancing in a new way,

that only you and they understand,

and into your hand,

goes my abuela’s ashes,

maybe some other people too,

but don’t worry,

just as it always is,

you are safe.

party mask jennifer juan

You escape,

once again to the bathroom.

They are no longer hunting you.

You inhale and return to the party,

clothes,

red,

blood on your hands,

up your nose,

but you,

you already know what I’ll say,

you are safe,

just like always,

you are safe,

and so are they,

buying and selling abuelas and tias,

hermanos and hermanas,

from Colombia,

Peru,

Mexico,

Bolivia,

and now,

on your own streets,

your city’s blood,

is all across your face,

grinded down to pleasant powder,

the human cost,

in a format you don’t have to think about,

so you are safe.


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

Listen to “Wildflowers” here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Drowning In Us
What Ever Happened To Baby Jen?
Notes To My Muse

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

COME FIND ME

Twitter
Instagram
Ask Jen
Facebook
Patreon
Tumblr
Amazon
Podcast
Spotify
YouTube

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Bruised And Blue

“Hey man.”
He says,
knowing I am at home,
where he left me,
a forgotten phone,
or set of keys.

“Are you controlling a woman?”
I wish I were a forgotten phone,
or a set of keys.
I sing lullabies to my legs,
bruised and blue,
we get in the way of his meditation,
or just him in general.
We wait for him to come home.

“I could lose my temper, sometimes.”
He says,
knowing that I will never know when,
or what I’ve done this time,
or how the hell it got to this point.

“As I got older, I really regretted it.”
I sing lullabies to my legs,
bruised and blue,
so they can’t hear,
each blaring blast,
as he paints me,
a lonely shade of lilac.

“I just left my girlfriend at home.”
He says,
knowing he can explain,
and people will understand,
because we all make mistakes,
and nobody knows my name,
and I’ll just be another anecdote.

“I just left my girlfriend at home
and told her not to leave the house.”
I sing lullabies to my legs,
bruised and blue,
knowing he’s not the only one,
and neither am I.


National Domestic Violence Helpline

Mind – Resources For Domestic Violence

Leeway Support


Enter The Poetry Competition here

Pre 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

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Instagram
Ask Jen
Facebook
Patreon
Tumblr
Amazon
Podcast
Spotify
YouTube

 

Posted in Blog, Personal, Thoughts On Writing, Writing

My 2017 Goals

Hola Amigos!

2017 is here! 2016 was a trek of a year, and quote difficult to get through in parts, but it is now time to look towards 2017, with careful optimism.

My goals for 2017 are:

Sleep More

I adore sleeping. If I could list it in the hobbies section of my CV, I would. Despite it being a favourite past time of mine, I do very little of it. I tend to get caught up with writing late in the evening, and before I know it, it is suddenly 1am, and my alarm is only four and a half hours away from forcing me out of bed. Therefore, I’ve decided in 2017, I’ll be attempting to get to sleep before midnight as often as possible, possibly earlier.

Learn A Third Language

I mentioned last year about learning another language, and began courses in Esperanto, and later Welsh, but I’ve yet to master either.

In 2017, I’m hoping to continue with at least one of them, and be able to handle basic conversations without having to constantly check.

Stop Blaming Myself For Bad Things That Happened To Me

In 2016, I accepted a lot of things in my life that had happened in the past, that I had been ignoring and pretending weren’t bothering me. However, accepting them did bring on a lot of guilt for not having said anything at the time, and therefore suffering through it far longer than I could have done.

While I’m not quite there yet (it is only January…), I’d like to reach a point where I don’t blame myself for what I went through or how long I went through it.

I can talk forever on other people not being to blame for bad things happening to them, but when it is me, I can’t help but review everything I did, and think about whether it really was my fault. I have to stop doing this, because there is no way I deserved a lot of the things in my past. There is no way a person can allow themselves to be hurt or abused, because the person who is hurting them is making a conscious choice to do so, and that is their actions, not the actions of the victim. Some people will argue that staying in the situation is allowing yourself to be victimised, but leaving a bad situation isn’t that simple. A lot of the time, you can’t find the confidence to be able to leave, you may feel like you deserve what is happening to you, you may physically be unable to leave. Just leaving isn’t an option for the vast majority of people.

What I’m getting at, is that a person shouldn’t be blamed for something they didn’t want to endure in the first place.

This all seems good on paper (or on screen) but whether I make it through the year without sinking back into blaming myself remains to be seen.

Be Less Afraid Of Conversation

If you’ve ever texted me, or called me, or tweeted me, or anything, you may find that I either don’t reply, or I reply sporadically. If you’ve ever tried to have a real life conversation with me, it has probably been an even worse experience. I haven’t yet figured out why, but I am quite intimidated by one on one conversations with people. Maybe it is a fear of not being liked, or saying the wrong thing? Either way, whatever it is, I’m going to try and move forward with this, because frankly, 2016 was horrible, so I’m sure most people I meet have endured far worse than a conversation with me.

Finish My Novel

This is perhaps my most optimistic one. I’ve been writing my novel since about 2013, and it has had so many changes, rewrites and so on, that I really should be finished, but I’m not. I would like to finish it by 2018, if possible, even if it never sees the light of day, I just want to be able to sleep at night knowing that I finally finished something I started when I was still young and optimistic about my abilities, or whatever.

Stop Referring To Myself As Old

You may notice I’ve already stumbled on this one, literally one paragraph up.

I’m only twenty four, but I feel about sixty (please no jokes about my taste in men) most days. I’m not that old, really, and I honestly have plenty of time to do all the things I want, have some adventures and adopt a turtle, so I would like to stop worrying and edging closer to a mid life crisis before my time.

When I was at university, someone I knew at school suddenly died in a tragic accident, and I think since then, as self absorbed as it may be, I’ve struggled with the idea of mortality. I knew before then that I’d eventually die, because I hadn’t applied myself in science class, and would therefore be unable to invent some kind of immortality serum, but I’d never really thought too deeply about it until then. Having someone I knew dying so young made me suddenly panic about how much time I had left, and how much of my elaborate and ridiculously big life plan I could fit into that time.

I began rushing to try and do multiple things at once. I started training to be a wrestler, I got engaged, I released a book that was nowhere near ready to be published, I started planning to move to London full time. I tried to do all the things I wanted because I figured I might not have the option of waiting until I was actually ready to do them. As it all turns out, that was a terrible way of doing things, and while I’m still busy and a bit ahead of myself, I’m hoping this year to slow down, put less pressure on myself and let things happen when they are supposed to.

I’m not overjoyed at the idea of death, and I don’t think I ever will be, but I’m hoping to let my life go where it goes, without worrying constantly and trying to do a million things at once, so I can enjoy the few things I have.

I’m twenty four, twenty five next month, and that is fine. It isn’t too late for me, and it never really was. I don’t have to hate ageing, because it isn’t an automatic end of my ambitions, it just means I’m better equipped to do what I want.

What are you hoping to do this year?

Besos,

J x


RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
What Do Little Girls Dream Of?
Enemy Of The State

Boo, Bitch

RECENT UPCOMING COLLECTION PREVIEWS
“Don’t Wake” from Always The Mistress, Never The Mrs
“Final Messages” from Always The Mistress, Never The Mrs
“Baby Back There” from Ours
“Window Shop” from Ours

“Beach Walk” from Ours

RECENT BLOGS
Tis The Season To Be Bad At Wrapping Presents🙂 
Lipsticks I Love

You Don’t Have To Be Alone

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Instagram
Ask Jen
Facebook
Patreon