POETRY

*Jenae’s manuscript, “Stopped On a Needle Feed For Infinity” (collection of over 60 poems), will be available for purchase soon in hard or paper back versions. (The book contains language that may not be suitable for all readers)…CONTACT for more details, but for now here’s a little taste…

Seeing Everything Blinded:

I saw the mountain wounded.

Standing taller than itself

Bleeding, into the air

ninety degrees,

parallel to the floor,

pulled

through like a vacuum

flying past the endless

patch of skyscraper-tree-trunks,

at one hundred miles per hour,

I saw the mountain darken.

I saw the river burning

the earth’s flesh ageing,

deepening infinity

cycling rotations forced

to continue

never

displacing labor:

possibility to polish.

I saw the mountain wounded,

people evolving,

river drying.

Drying dead evolution

in a puddle

of a moistened thunder

living with

a soul that only exists

in minds

now discarded.

I saw the mountain wounded,

trees forgotten,

nothing gathering.

I saw thoughts imploding.

Forgotten nothing imploding

on an empty mountain

brings ease to my mind

yet I know these

burdened words,

sparsity of ambiguous explanation,

heightens voided knowledge.

Knocking down this Church

with this crane;

that’s what I do

to force communication

on-to the blank reflection.

Things living in this place:

Forced to face.

My suspicion arises

in this world

I’ve established

crumbling the core

at this revelation.

I saw rocks evaporating.

Blinded by living

in nothingness;

all I have is my imagination

but that does not even exist

without my kaleidoscope

of perception.

Look down,

I can’t even see my hands.

What I see is pure, but

when I close my eyes I never see darkness.

I ignore truth,

see reality.

A reality

of what they have become.

A reality

of what I am becoming.

That beat is evaporating

like the rock

like the train

swaying back and forth

by the pull

and the adapting precision

of that cyclical motion,

the friction

on one rail

that holds the air

resting on gravity’s description.

Trail and train.

A foggy image, sepia,

enhancing symbolism of

the inability to

stop

recklessly continuing

at an unbearable speed

it does not end

until the end.

Until the evaporation

from that rock

disrupts the filtered instinct

blaming its own origin.

Pathetic.

The smoky horizontal

still

sits within the three –

dimensional landscape

just above eye level.

I saw the mountain wounded.

I saw the train departing.

–Jenae Adreanna

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