Jenay Jarvis Dec 2012
I glared hesitantly at my feet,
I was afraid to fully  comprehend the words that had just been spoken to me.

I was counting quickly 12345678910,

My fingers began to twist and hot tears began to stream,
Forming puddles in the blue pillow you bought me-

12345678910

My body became limp with disappointment-
With you? No, maybe it was myself.

"123456- I've allowed this" I thought to myself.

Maybe I deserved this.

I was thinking about matches,
I was thinking about knives and matches and bleeding fairies.

12345678910

I was thinking about every time you had let me down,

12345678910

you left me behind.
YOU left me.

123456-
I looked up suddenly as if his words had mended my mind.

It was at this moment I had learned the ultimate lesson in life;

*You must only rely on oneself.
Baroness Penniless stripping for your art

creaming up your body like an apple tart

tomato bras and candelabras that's your dada art


take a side, not suicide, looking for your place

don't be a prude, be the nude descending staircase

Duchamp, your champ,  your ready -made not taking any chances

A sheet of glass and your fine ass declines your sex advances


Marcel, Marcel, I love you like Hell, take me to your mountain

we will not stop until the top and there I'll find my fountain

Marcel, Marcel, can it be true, the thief is here what will we do?

Forgotten like this parapluie am I by you


Baroness Elsa von Freytag- Loringhoven Mother of Dada Art

sitting in the jolly inn playing out your part

Berlin, Berlin and there within the forming of a ylem

you end your ways and count the days in a pyschriatric ayslum


Baroness Penniless stripping for your art

creaming up your body like an apple tart

tomato bras and candleabras that's your dada art
Tribute to Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven founder of Dada Art
is there a source of Life?

who sets the course of man and woman
to greet, blossom love and wed?
sets seed and egg to form zygote
in the womb, divides and grows
nurtured in the uterus, labors born.

a babe lies dependent on the teat
someone swaddles and cleans diapers
comforts child's cry's; play with infant
thankful your mother bore your birth

who causes the rain to fall and sun
to shine as wheat springs forth
from dirt and seed, rain to fill creeks
and lakes to quench our thirst?

who are we to cut out the child
forming in the womb, sacrificed
on the altar of false freedoms?
like Canaanites on molten Molek

Will you teach the children
to master thought and reason;
the source breath comes from?
who secures our life from death?

tear down your idols and worship
him who laid down his life and took
life up again; seek his mercy for sins'
price paid (beaten bloody, crucified)
and after resurrection, you may Live.

confess and bow before Christ the King;
he will pardon the true penitent.
Destined to become orators

cleansed off Florida water

You've squared all corners

Keep a smile and laugh at these fake martyrs

telling you how to make a quarter.  

More bang for your buck more free time

more luck

don't feel stuck

when you have the code to trust.

LOVE is a MUST. 

Thus the cusp

to communicate with

anyone's will

at WILL.


Ya Never slept 

ya  never rep

   ya kept ya eyes open  

and witnessed the crystal crust forming.

The problem is the world has looked too into it.  

Strangers stimulated

influenced  

convinced

they're a constituent.  

NOT WE.  

NOT ME    

but

      You


You

are the KEY  


the angle of MIKE

the angels from Khrist. (Spine- within)
Building those metaphors that personify beauty
Creating an allusion by using epigraphs
With allegory and alliteration creating euphemism
And midst litotes and kennings
Forming masterpiece

// Cheers to all the poets.
cheers to all the poets
He
His freckles were
scattered stars,
forming
          their own
                      constellation.
He
was my
very own
             temptation.
Fully aware or not, we survive
This life thriving on clues.
How a baby beaming means
An angel is coaxing him to smile,
The elders would say. Snap,
And there it is, his only photograph
As a baby, hanging on his mother’s
Bedside green wall. Asked or not,
We tend to offer evidence that we grow up;
That indeed, we started off as tiny things,
Later into trees with unruly branches.
We try to take a second look at the faces
We see. Perchance, to remind us: Where
Have we met the unfamiliar ones? Those
Not perfectly aligned; the photograph’s
Uncomfortably pegged to a rusty nail.
Meanwhile, our eyes are gravitated
To the smudges forming around
The edges of that photograph,
Made perhaps by the mixing
Of time & water, forming maps
Of places and distances, where
The this once-child would go.
Her tongue rolls                                    
    tipped with paint                              
the strokes she speaks                
forming living colors      
    
                                hot lava

         melts me to my core            
                
                            dripping                            ­  

                       from the corners of her mouth                    

                                    watered with her kisses                    
           The seeds she whispers          
                                 bloom inside my chest                                                  
           vines wrapped around my heart

— The End —