My generation is the technology generation
We are connected 100% of the time
My generation is the "selfie" generation
A generation of self love and positivity
My generation believes you can love someone
Even if they're thousands of miles away
My generation is the download generation
Music from every era is at our fingertips

They'll tell you all this is bad
They'll say we're a generation ruled by technology
And we are, but that's not a bad thing

My generation is the one being killed in the street
For the color of their skin
My generation is the one yelling "hands up don't shoot"
And reminding people Black Lives Matter

My generation checks social media
And hears about news before CNN or Fox
My generation uses pictures and videos
To dispute the lies we're being fed
My generation has the power to change the world

They'll say technology is ruining my generation,
It's not.
It's ruining theirs.

The other day my mom told me not to talk to strangers
Now I laughed and said I wouldn’t
But as a child that was one of the most important things we had to know
Don’t hit, don’t bite
Color inside the lines
And don’t talk to strangers.
Now this came as a shock to me when I realized
That as an adult the only way you make friends
Is by talking to strangers..
-JE

I want someone who sees my freckles as galaxies
And my scars as stories.
Who tells me my eyes are beautiful
And that my crooked teeth are charming.
I need someone who makes me feel as happy
As I feel when I write poetry.
Who makes me realize that I don’t need a lover,
But sometimes it’s okay to want one.
Then I realize as I trace the freckles on my arm,
That I already see them as galaxies.
And I know the stories behind my scars.
My eyes are my favorite feature
And **** my crooked teeth are awesome.
I write poetry and it makes me happy,
So why do I want a person to share that with?
I have everything here,
I love myself more than anyone could ever love me.

The media has taught us as girls
That skinny is beautiful.
That the more your hips stick out
The more the boys will like you.
It has taught girls to hate their curves
And body positivity has turned
Into a rivalry.
Girls who are prettier than me
Tell me they hate me because I'm skinny.
As if my flat tummy
Is the only thing that makes me pretty.
No one compliments my eyes
Or my smile it's all my weight.
And then songs come out saying
Things like "**** those skinny *******"
And girls hate me more.
I want an *** and curves.
I always have.
In high school boys called me paper
Flat on both sides.
'Cause boys like more ***** to hold, right?
Yet the media still holds skinny girls on a pedestal
And beautiful girls still tell me
They want to look like me.
When all I want is to look like them.
Beauty should not be a competition.

High above the world I fly

Deep red against a bright blue sky

Such a shame I was let go

By a young girl

Who now I’ll never know

But oh did she cry

And her mother did try

But I was gone

Floating into space

Her daddy tried to keep up pace

But I was much too high

And much too fast

In a few years, I’ll be a thing of the past

She won’t even remember the day

She let a pretty red balloon get away

-JE

Twas the night before finals
And all through the dorms
Not a student was sleeping
Not even a nerd
Everyone sat with their books
And their coffee
Cramming until they
Thought they would burst

When 4AM struck
A sigh could be heard
As finally the students
Put down their heads
For at this point in time
Not a **** did they give
For an A or an F
It didn’t matter
Unemployment was inevitable
And sleep was a given.

You deserve the moon and the stars
I would give them to you if only I was stronger
-JE

I Want
To F
       L
         Y
Away
Grow Wings and Explore
The S
         K
           Y
To Give up
The World BE
                      LO
                         W
And
Escape Into The Wide
Expanse of BL
                        U
                           E
I Feel like I’m Chained
To the EA
               RT
                   H
Forced Against my Will
To Remain in the D
                                  I
                                    R
                                      T

**** Prince Charming
I’m not some damsel in distress
waiting for a Prince to save me
I’m not a maiden in a tower
waiting to let down my hair
I’m not dancing away in a forest
Singing about how my prince will come
You see, I am a princess but
I’m not in distress
I am a princess but
I don’t need to be saved
I am a princess but I most definitely
Do not sing.
So go rescue someone else
From a dragon or a witch
Take her away from her tower
And sweep her off her feet
And remember, if you ever come back for me
You gotta be a princess
To storm this castle
-JE

I wish I knew why certain things just roll right off
But others choose to stick.
I wish I knew why words are flung without a thought
And cling to my mind forever.
I wish I knew why I’m not strong enough to accept
What I know is meant as a joke.
I wish I knew in advance which things I'll find hilarious
And which will bring me to tears.
I wish I could just let things slide off my shoulders
But some words are like glue.
I wish someone would see the pain behind the laugh,
When I don't actually get the joke.

I’m sorry that I laugh too loud
And tend to make a scene
I’m sorry about the way my
Words stumble across my tongue
I’m sorry about the dumb things I say
And how forgetful I can be
I talk about my hair too much
And my ex
And the weather
I’m sorry I complain a lot
About all the little things
I’m sorry you have to tell me
For gods sake stop saying sorry!
But in a society where saying the wrong thing
Gets you laughed at or ridiculed
“I’m sorry” is my only weapon
They laugh because I don’t understand
The innuendo they just made
I laugh with them
Between muttered “I’m sorry”s
I don’t let my face disclose
The pain of each chuckle at my expense
Weeks later I still hear it echo
As I relive my stupidity
So I’m sorry that I think too much
And remember everything you’ve ever said
I’m sorry I can’t let things go even after all this time.
-JE

I was raised Catholic
In a world of Eucharist
And the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit.
Baptized before I could remember
Given a white dress in the second grade
To receive a piece of a man I didn’t understand.
Sunday school used to give me headaches
Too stressed to admit I didn’t believe
Too scared to see through the lies.
The day I walked out forever
I was told my birth control was abortion.
A man told a room full of fourteen year olds
That his girlfriend killed their unborn child.
As if he had the right to force a woman
To put her body through something
She couldn’t handle.
Religion has become less about love
And more about guilt.
Children are hiding parts of themselves
Because people tell them they are sins.
Priests speak with razors that cut
And we are the ones left bleeding
I see God’s light as a flashlight
As priests and preachers torture out my sins
I may not believe in God
But I believe in people
And I need to know if
Religion will ever be a good thing.
-JE

Does he see your scars as battle wounds?
Does he understand the war being fought?
How your mind is fighting with itself
And both sides are losing.

Does he understand the days you get out of bed
Are battles won?
Does he know the nights you lie awake
Are battles lost?
How each day is a struggle to prepare your army?
And some days they just don't want to fight.

Does he tell you he'll fight the war with you?
Does he help heal the wounds?
When he holds you I hope it brings a white flag.
I hope his kisses are surrender.

Welcome to the Garden of Voice

Where the flowers shout poetry

And the trees deliver prose

Where your ideas can flourish and grow.

The plants don’t judge

And the grass doesn’t gossip

Here you can write until the pen runs out.

-JE

I still love you and I don’t know how to stop

I see you every day and everywhere

you’re always there

in the back of my mind.

The thought of kissing someone else’s lips

Makes me want to gag

Yet the thought of kissing yours again

Hurts more than I can stand.

I never thought I’d fall so hard

I know this could be my fault,

I’m the one who left for school,

I’m the one who went away.

But I’m not the one who stopped giving my all

I’m not the one who faded away

I guess this might not be my fault ‘cause

I never stopped trying to love you

Even when you became nothing but a ghost.

-JE

I don't want to lose control like you do
I can't understand how anyone can drink so much
They lose their thoughts
Their compassion.
You cut with your tongue and don't even remember.
Then you tell me to let go more often
Have a few drinks.
Yet you're the poster child for why I never drink.
I see my mom hooded eyed and slurring
Falling off a bar stool.
I hear your voice telling me horrible things.
I see the spark gone from his eyes because there's too much
Alcohol in his system for it to live.
I can't lose control like that.
I don't want to.

I sometimes wonder what you told her
And what she told you
All those things I said in passing
I assumed were said in confidence
The secrets that bled from your lips to hers
I've thought about your little talks
And whether you were really "just friends"
'Cause it seems more like you were spies
Plotting against me
Discovering my weaknesses
What would hurt me
What would **** me
I wonder if you knew
How much it hurt
When you'd disappear
And I'd find you were with her
I never claimed to be the jealous type
But somehow you brought out
The worst in me.

If I had talent, I’d be a musician

I’d play for small crowds or big arenas

I’d be able to command the attention of an audience

I’d charge buckets of money or sometimes not charge a thing at all

If I had guts, I’d be an actress

I’d wear designer dresses to all the award shows

I’d become any character anyone could come up with and

I’d even move to LA or New York

I’d hide from paparazzi and enjoy every second

If I had grace, I’d be a dancer

I’d glide across the floor, making every step look effortless

I’d feel the music through my toes and in my heart

I’d have perfect pirouettes and flawless leaps

I’d be so beautiful

If I was braver I’d be a poet

I can write poems until my fingers bleed

String words together on lined paper

Watch them as they tumble from my pen

Sometimes I even wake up in the middle of the night

Just to write down some lines or stanzas

But no on ever reads them

I keep them tucked away in notebook after notebook

Hidden by school notes or doodles

I leave them all to collect dust

If I was braver, I’d be a poet

Instead I hide my poetry away from prying eyes

Out of fear, I let the pages rot

Until I lose myself in their wilted corners

And I can feel my soul begin to wilt as well

Through the rhymes I choose to ignore

To the poetry I give pieces of myself that no one will ever see

If I was braver, I’d be a poet

-JE

I miss the way you play with my hair
Even though you know I hate it
I miss the way when I lean on you
You kiss the top of my head
I miss the way you act so strong
But I know exactly when you need to cry

I miss the way you tell me
I'm your favorite daughter
Though I'm your only one
I miss the way you'd fall asleep on the couch
And be impossible to wake up

I miss the way you'd come home late
And blame me for still being up
I miss the way you tell me you love me
And the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh
I miss your horrible sense of humor
And your amazing hugs

I hate being so far away
If I could live with you forever
I would.
But being a grown up is important
You taught me that.
Because underneath the partying and silliness
You are a responsible adult
And an even more amazing mom

As a writer each face I see in passing
Each businessman hunched over his computer
Each little girl in a pretty dress
Each hurried parent running fingers though tangled hair
Becomes a character in my head
A story to be created and molded

Green eyes become fields
While blue eyes become oceans
Each feature is a description in a story
That I may one day write

Don’t ever think for a second you are safe
Don’t think that I only use stranger’s faces
Each person I meet is a character on a page
Three dimensional until I find a pen
Your skin was the color of mocha
Hers the color of milk

Her eyes were geysers of blue and green
Yours were the Earth from which flowers grow
We were an 80’s love story
That could never last

Francis and Mo
Hung in the sky
Sharing a cup of tea
And laughing about the people below
Who were fighting another war
Francis remarked
How silly it was
That no one could get along
Then Mo heaved a sigh
And showed our dear Francis
That the people below
With their fighting and wars
Were capable
Of such glorious things
Like music and art and poetry
About things such as love
And beauty and nature
Francis and Mo hung in the sky
Enjoying the view of the people below
Who were writing and drawing
And showing their love

I miss the way you play with my hair
Even though you know I hate it
I miss the way when I lean on you
You kiss the top of my head
I miss the way you act so strong
But I know exactly when you need to cry

I miss the way you tell me
I'm your favorite daughter
Though I'm your only one
I miss the way you'd fall asleep on the couch
And be impossible to wake up

I miss the way you'd come home late
And blame me for still being up
I miss the way you tell me you love me
And the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh
I miss your horrible sense of humor
And your amazing hugs

I hate being so far away
If I could live with you forever
I would.
But being a grown up is important
You taught me that.
Because underneath the partying and silliness
You are a responsible adult
And an even more amazing mom

I'm the voice but she's the song
Forever until the last note.
-JE

I’m sharing cookies with the monster under my bed
And feeding candy to the one inside my head
Not letting go of the words that I have said

I woke up at 4
with a need to feel your skin
beneath my fingers

Sorry I've been away
I've been out of inspiration
I promise I'll be back soon