Most mornings,
I can still feel your memories crawling,
like ants,
up and over the creases in my skin,
collecting my scars like leaves.
Sometimes I can feel the strongest burrowing,
until I can feel them gnawing on the surface
of that soft grey thing we call a brain.
until I can't remember the order
of those strange sounds we call our names.

So you see,
it wan't my fault—
when you asked me the time I told you I loved you.
I was never any good at writing love poems, darling—
in the same way I was never any good at loving the right things.
Like a kid with 26 cavities loves candy,
each time you bit my neck I fell in love with the bruises.
Sometimes I still press my fingers against my collarbones
trying to re-create  your violet imprints.

Say my name one more time.
It always sounded scarlet on your tongue.
Cast your fishhook words at my shins—
until I  can feel the syllables sinking through my skin—
until I can feel myself limping forward again.

These days—
they call me unstable,
like a half-brokes table.
And I keep trying to slip things
under the too-short leg
but nothing seems to hold me up anymore.
It's been 7 months and I still shake each times someone tries to lean on me—
I used to be someone people could lean on.

Summer is coming fast and i'm still to faded from the winter to greet it with open arms.
I've fallen in love with the cold and I'm not ready for the too-bright sun
to kiss burns on my pale shoulders.
I miss the overcast days too,
like us,
uncomfortably blue.
I used to believe you loved me too—
It's 6:26 am and I'm still thinking of you.

Hello Poetry


Yearned.
Ached.
For so long, for a community,
That values the ineffable wonder
Of a wordsmith's creations, intended to
Repair himself and the world with bullets of
Verses.

And here you are.

Like/Dislike, matters not,
So long as we value each others work,
And the the heart echoes within
What the eyes read and the mouth whispers.

The array and disparity of your names,
A delight,
Each name a poem
In its own right.

So I resubmit a question for your consideration,
The answer is now known,
The answer is all of us.
---------------------------------------------------------


Who's Who In Poetry
(Revised)


T'is a curious thing,
these verbal peddlers, tribal members,
famously well known to no one,
perhaps at best,
a kindred few, fellow-travelers.

Each a troop,
bloodied, purple hearted,
word-wounded,
anonymous unto each other,
yet all bonded intimates,
in solitary struggle united,
yet sea-parted by the very nature
of the solitude of composition.

All poets are Cain scar-marked,
purposed for everyone to see,
a warning to rabbled boors,
imagination suppressors!

World:

cherish these flawed ones,
gentle these frail but gritty,
the Lord has tasked them
to be prophets in one tongue untied,
undo the strife of Babel's division.

Poets!

Be the harpooners
of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody,
comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy
to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders
into crinkly eye-lined smilers.

With clinical observation,
dense and demanding,
make us laugh at
the comedy of our situation,
teach us our free-to-see peep show,
reveal, unseal us
with tart empathy!

For who's who in poetry
is all of us!
saviors and failures,
recorders and decoders,
night writers of the oohs and aahs
of dreams and nightmares.

When this poet cannot,
no longer, anymore,
tastes his poems upon your lips,
keep your poems within his heart,
then he breathes no more,
and becomes one who was, yet is,
because of you, in poetry.

Silver tongue
Golden penis
If this descriptions making you uncomfortable
You're right that something's amiss
Cold fire diamond heart
Unfeeling perfect automaton

Your hole fits my key
They always fall for me
But I never feel a thing
I'm not insincere just empty
I'm really trying to improve my mimicry
Everyday I wish the emulation of  feeling will become the real thing
I pray that this tin man's heart will start beating

In the suburbs,
I am driving through the dark heat
of summer night
in a luxury car I don't deserve
to a house that is at least three times too large

In the suburbs,
I am a college graduate,
headed to medical school
and I won't pay for that either
so the remainder of my school fund
is being spent on pettiness
Which is what much of it went to already.

In the suburbs,
my phone flashes
with your neediness.
You shouldn't have left
but I was never there,
not for you or your friends
whoring around
at these high school reunions.

In the suburbs,
all we have are the scraps
of memories,
of trembling hands on breasts
and sticky fumblings
in cars
cloaked with sweat,
of drinking in dark basements
that stunk of our young, bad conscience,
of halcyon days

In the suburbs,
the wind licks from my tongue
the scent of alcohol
but throws dust in my eyes.

In the suburbs,
I switch off the headlights,
and race along the blackened asphalt
as the moon lights the way overhead.

she licked the line of sweat that
groped my hair up the
middle of my chest with
her hot and sticky tongue,

and as I looked into her
blackened, wilting eyes,
while beating my head
violently against her lips,

I felt the guilt lacerating my insides
worse than the drugs devouring her mind.

Soft pads glide over silky pale flesh
Deep pools of ocean green become darker with passion
Every touch brings the storm closer to the  couple
The raven haired God like man looks over every millimeter
Her face flushes at the feelings building inside

Her black waist corsette pushes her ivory globes teasingly near
the point of spilling forth
Dark red tendrils lift off delicate cheek bones tickling her face
Her belly flutters as tiny goose bumps raise against her arms

The soft padded fingers begin to explore this creature who has walked
right into his trap.
Long lashes lift revealing startling violet eyes
His breath catches harshly
He does not seem to realize he is under her spell as she remains in his trap

Julia's body is burning as Allen's fingers and hands weave an inferno built only by his touch
Her body responds as she feels the moisture begin to gather between her sweet petals
Trying not to move lest she give away the affect he has upon her

Allen watches her eyes noting how they seem to change to grey
His thumb slides across the bud covered by material yet
It cannot hide the obvious desire as the tender flesh hardens and a soft mewl escapes pouty lips

Julia begins to blush as her body betrays her mind
Allen chuckles at her discomfort
His hands and fingers seem to set her on fire every place they touch
She feels his knee prod gently at the apex of her thighs.
Moving slightly his knee grinds against the promise land

Flames fall back as her head follows suit
Sweet moans reach his ears inciting his passion more
Her hips move against his thigh trying to increase the friction
Allen rips the cumbersome corsette and shirt free allowing cool air
to kiss her flesh where his tongue wishes to follow

Pressure builds within the lust filled redhead, she digs nails into his shirt
pulling him closer.  
Allen's tongue swirls around first one then the other swollen bud
Dragging his teeth hard over the delicate flesh
Julia cries out as desire spins out of control.

Allen begins pulling the nipple into his feverish mouth suckling
Then biting as fingers pinch and pull the other
Julia grinds down hard on His thigh not paying attention to the moisture that stains his pants

She stiffens when she feels his hand pull her dress up allowing his fingers
to slide through her dew laden petals
The smell of need permeates the air
As his mouth continues to suckle then bite his fingers slam deep inside her
silky soaked lips

Julia's legs quiver when his fingers fill her well it is almost her undoing her screams of pleasure fill the air
Allen brings her to the edge filling her deep with long fingers
Releasing her nipple he begins to kiss and nip her neck fingers coated in honey slow down

Julia growls in frustration and he bites her neck hard just as fingers pinch her clitoris
She holds her breath panting as the inferno increases hotter
Both are sweating now as she begs him to allow her to fly
Allen chuckles whispering "not yet Lil vixen"

She grinds down on his fingers trying to take what she wants
He is wise to her movements stopping abruptly until she realizes he
won't continue unless she stops

Suddenly out of nowhere she is turned over his lap where he brings his hand down ten times fast and hard cross her ass
His  knee lined up so each swat digs into her wetness
Crying out she bites her lip willing herself to not release

He pushes her to the ground and starts biting the tender buds while pulling and twisting that hardened flesh that has swelled past it's hood
Pace becomes faster as he growls in her ear to fuck his fingers
She does so with wild abandon

His teeth bite down hard on her neck licking the area he bites
His fingers curve up as she grinds
Allen growls out NOW as his mouth finds her lips
Crushing them to his, catching her screams of pleasure
Her well explodes in spasms gripping his fingers hard enough to break

Julia quivers all over from the massive release, blushing as she remembers
her response to all he did
Allen drags His well manicured nails across her blistered half moons
Hearing her moan loudly, knowing he could send her spiraling just by spanking her once more.

Julia ducks under fiery curls trying to escape his scrutiny
Allen knows what she is up to and pulls the silky curls away
Lifting his soaked hand from between gorgeous thighs
Placing fingers between their lips kissing sand licking her juices off
The taste on his lips brings a feeling of decadence through Julia

They will meet again Allen said
Julia watched as he left her there hearing a car start
Now nothing but silence and the smell from her traitorous body

Whispering to the darkness
"Please return to me soon"


Written by:  Jennifer Humphrey
May 23, 2013

The Numerical Quality of Friendship

The quality of friendship is non-quantitative.
Yet, I ask you to number me this way.

With tape measure, determine that:
The length of my arm's embrace will always be
longer than long enough, and when distance magnifies sorrow's gains,
my shoulders measure wide enough to pillow your wearied head.

The depth of my pocket is finite for by definition,
a pocket is but an open doored, three walled shelter.
My pocket of shelter is forever open, forever deep,
and forever is infinite.

Trust that when bowed and bent,
upon my shoulders climb and together we will be tall enough
to touch the season's new fruit upon the tree of life,
and with one tongue taste the unimaginable!

Do u think that mercury can measure
the warmth of my tears when love sears my heart,
or the heat of thy skin when it heals and cauterizes
wounds salted by the mistreatment, by the bitters of the weak ones,
who rejoice when they scald others?

Size me up.
What is my volume?
What are the boundaries that
length X depth X height
state must limit my capacity to cherish, to heal,
and even to forgive those who deserve no forgiveness?

If you measure me well and proper,
if I meet the standards that qualify me to be called friend,
then friend me here, friend me now,
friend me for the qualities I posses,
and number us a unity among the few
who are truly blessed
by a quality of friendship that cannot be measured,
for there is no scientific instrument that can quantify,
limitless.



March 2012

Multi-tasking

Kissing your eyes,
Sensing the tickling of your trembling lashes,
Between kisses and breathes
Utter word-wisps of
Love poetry.

Right hand strokes thy chest,
sensing/sending heartbeats upon my palm to the
Forever keep part of my
Treasury memory chest.

All the while my left finger indexes,
Mesmerized, it memorizes
The curvature of the face
To be stored in the
Never forget always place.

My tongue restless to participate
Goes whatever it feels like,
For the tongue is the only body part
With a mind of its own.

My eyes, my eyes, see only the
Totality of this moment.
When mastery of multi-tasking
Is the single best poem this man ever
Penned with his entirety.

May 19th
Laguna Niguel, Ca.

where your shoulder
slopes up to create the lines of your neck
you will find the palm of my hand
pressed there
and later
you will find my lips
searching for a bared path
of skin and collarbone
to claim as mine with teeth and tongue