jjcelli

[jjcelli]

A little #prosepoetry titled- Skip The Small Talk, Tell me Everything like things that usually take years or some traumatic happening to be shared, more than what’s in your family photos, the toughness you wore in your high school year book, your favorite restaurant or what movie star you had a crush on, those words you tell everyone up front so they don’t ask later-- as if I can’t see a part of you break every time you push others away or talk and tell, more than why you love the color blue, tell me the first person you wanted to give yourself to, and how that’s not the first person who had you, the stitches above your upper lip, the scar across your left wrist, the bruises, the bandages, the song that always makes you cry, what you thought about when you wanted to die, who you think about at night, who you wish you were holding. I want to see what your scared to show, what you hide in your top dresser drawer, under the mattress-- that letter you wrote and never sent, to see under your tan lines, the place you hid your first tattoo (and with who)- (for who), what you do when no one is watching, how you touch yourself and who you wish it was, whose hands travel the roadmap of your body. The way you fill yourself up-- the booze, the drugs, the disgust, to know the name of the person who leaves you most angry, the fight you had with your dad that ruined everything, or what your mom said that still means something, even though she’s gone. Tell me the first time you failed, what you learned, why you don’t deserve a second first chance, what lies you keep behind your eyes, what stories you tell pretending you had a good life, and that smile, I want to know more about that. What makes those lips move, those eyes shine the way they do when you look at me, when you smile at me like that. . . Poems. Prose. Spoken word (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqVe6MvuUwt/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

A little #prosepoetry piece titled- Skip The Small Talk, Tell me Everything like things that usually take years or some traumatic happening to be shared, more than what’s in your family photos, the toughness you wore in your high school year book, your favorite restaurant or what movie star you had a crush on, those words you tell everyone up front so they don’t ask later-- as if I can’t see a part of you break every time you push others away or talk and tell, more than why you love the color blue, tell me the first person you wanted to give yourself to, and how that’s not the first person who had you, the stitches above your upper lip, the scar across your left wrist, the bruises, the bandages, the song that always makes you cry, what you thought about when you wanted to die, who you think about at night, who you wish you were holding. I want to see what your scared to show, what you hide in your top dresser drawer, under the mattress-- that letter you wrote and never sent, to see under your tan lines, the place you hid your first tattoo (and with who)- (for who), what you do when no one is watching, how you touch yourself and who you wish it was, whose hands travel the roadmap of your body. The way you fill yourself up-- the booze, the drugs, the disgust, to know the name of the person who leaves you most angry, the fight you had with your dad that ruined everything, or what your mom said that still means something, even though she’s gone. Tell me the first time you failed, what you learned, why you don’t deserve a second first chance, what lies you keep behind your eyes, what stories you tell pretending you had a good life, and that smile, I want to know more about that. What makes those lips move, those eyes shine the way they do when you look at me, when you smile at me like that. . . Poems. Prose. Spoken word. (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqVebJtOVfs/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poems. Prose. Spoken word. . . In translating you to words…. Old poem re-post. (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqTHTHDOmHs/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poetry. Prose. Spoken word. * * The same places you haunt, i ghost (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqGU_DdpwI4/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poetry. Prose. Spoken word. . . (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp2pHMMumsX/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

What to say to the they sitting on the curb in front of the Barnes and Nobles in a black motorcycle jacket covered with band patches yeah you probably drinking flat beer in your travel mug with rainbow stickers and upside down pink triangles with your legs stretched out over the curb so everyone can see your black fishnets through the homemade holes in the knees of your jeans and your punk heeled combat boots you dressed black on black and stoner sunglasses glasses blowing cigarette smoke onto everyone that passes Laughing with whomever your speaking to on the phone like everyone else cares to hear your conversation with all your Like tell me about it’s and as ifs like you and your friends are first to be revolted by the society of this culture Well let me tell you you thems have got it pretty good here and have a lot to be thankful for it’s these people who pass you that look all old and cut out that helped paved the path for where you are, so you can show up expressed however the hell you please I mean I don’t really say all this what I really say is nothing except smile or better yet lift my chin up as I pass one of those hey what’s up gestures we use to do when we spotted one of our kind because like I get it There was a time when I was as punk as you are and revolted and revered, out casted Sitting there with my metal mania, inked or guitar world magazine when that was literature of choice When I was sitting on the curb, drinking flat beer talking to someone I was certain would be the only one that ever understood me watching families, and chiseled looking cut outs of people that look pretty much the same walk by thinking I’ll never be like that like them like they are . . Poems. Prose. Spoken word. (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpxqojXusLn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poems. Prose. Spoken word. * a little repost, remix :) Happy Sunday all. * * Click on the link in my bio to subscribe to my website and be eligible for free poem giveaways ❤️🙏✍️ (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpskQaYuDKy/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poems. Prose. Spoken word. * a little repost, remix :) Happy Sunday all. * * Click on the link in my bio to subscribe to my website and be eligible for free poem giveaways ❤️🙏✍️ (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpskQaYuDKy/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poems. Prose. Spoken word. . . Click on the link in my bio to subscribe to my website and be eligible for free poem giveaways ❤️🙏✍️ (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpn7sVXpJcX/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Breaking Night is Urban Slang to Mean Staying Up Until Morning I am breaking night again. These days more gently, more graciously. These days less tossing and turning, more up early with patience and gratitude, beneath cool, light sheets- I am acceptance. This body almost knows nothing of regret, of when I laid myself down like a road for those who got on, those I got off how I boil myself over like water just to feel pure again. Knows almost nothing of that sickness, of mind pounding viciously blurred by dream and behavior Where the enemy is neither in my hands or my thoughts— scaling some inner wall reaching rooftop for a clear view of decency still hard to keep those memories, even the ones that make me smile mostly the ones that look like you. We can’t create like that now Not in this place of peace. My energy tamed, more meek and mild. I’m nearly healed here, how I wish I were when you knew me. I make you up now. You live here contently. And I don’t run. And I give you what you need. Here, in this new place, I don’t leave. And you don’t leave. (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpiZzgzpRaH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poems. Prose. Spoken word. * * * Daydreaming ….. (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpfqZbDuFFq/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poems. Prose. Spoken word. (re-post) * * Thoughts are things too, very powerful things. (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpYjmZvJK5m/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Mind. Focus. Transformation (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpVhGyMpJBk/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poems. Prose. Spoken word. * * 13 1/2- (12 jurors, 1 judge, 1/2 a chance in hell) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpS6053vp_m/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poems. Prose. Spoken Word@* * * Spring, we are ready 🌱 https://www.instagram.com/p/CpNqkPAuvkb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Poems. Prose. Spoken Word. * * This morning it wasn’t raining cats and dogs but still the rain was unusually and unbelievably hard. Was raining knuckles and fists. Beating the hell out of the sidewalk the blacktop, my thoughts. Punched my memory right in the mouth a blunt reminder of times I came down fell just as hard. To remind myself to recharge that there are still parts in here tender like and sensitive. (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpLMKJLp4gF/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jjcelli]

Google defines a shadowing to mean following, watching something closely and often secretly I won’t shadow my phone, or my email —waiting won’t shadow my mailbox- hoping for good news to find me wont shadow your house even if I could use something safe (a place familiar) even if our eyes might by chance meet again I won’t shadow their success (comparing my ability to keep everything moving forward) or this Chicago weather (even if cold and gloomy feels fitting) I’ll stay on the other side of sun, a lightbulb, a flashlight, the moon where I am not watching in secret, or pursuing in silence where I am not hiding, waiting quietly for something to happen. Instead I am here, seen present and alive loudly living (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpA2kVtOL-D/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=