Jewel's Poetry

These poems are found in the liner notes of Pieces Of You.

ME
FAITH POEM (a poem about faith)
LEAVING LAS VEGAS
CRITICISM
UNTITLED
UPON MOVING INTO MY VAN
UNTITLED
LAS VEGAS

I
I have blonde hair
I pluck my eyebrows
I have my father's nose,
my mother's hands
I have crooked teeth
and green eyes
I play guitar
I used to get sick alot
I like the color
II
I have firm breasts
I have lips that always smile
I have veins that bleed
I laugh when I'm nervous
I feel the pain of others
but cry for no reason
I like open flame
I've been selfish since a child
I'm from Alaska
but hate the cold
I've cheated on diets
I've faked applications
But still I bleed
and my lips still smile
and my breasts won't
always be firm
III
I have strong shoulders
I have olive skin
I have a swiss face
I borrowed from my grandmother
I have long nails on my right hand
which break regularly
My little toe is strange
I write
I used to make wreaths from dandelions
I brush my hair before bed
I cheated on tests
I faked flirtatious French accents
But I still have gold skin
and my nails still break
and I probably won't always have
strong shoulders
and I may not always write
But maybe I'll start making wreaths
from dandelions again

FAITH POEM (a poem about faith)

I don't know how to do anything
I am trying to move mountains with words
But I am an ant
I scribble
I drool
I move like a worm
whose world
(words)
encompassed a mile
How do I rise above?
Where will this worm
find wings?
I look in the mirror
and I see filth
Who is that?
Where did The Angel go?
Why is there dirt
staring back at me?
Why is the soil of
incompetance beneath my nails?
Why does doubt paint
blue rings
beneath my eyes and
stain my skin?
Why does my spine assume failure
Why do my lips
flirt with the sky;
why do I try to lasso
Beauty with such a
pitiful rope?
Where is the hair of Rapunzel
or Samson?
Where is my sling
Where is my stone,
My gun?
Where is the weapon with which
I may fight this apathy
that feels like sleep
in my limbs
that loosens my brothers smile
that kills my neighbors daughter
This pen is scrawny and hardly
seems able to ink out
or erase this plague that
infests my
Generation
This Giant, This Ogre
This Beast, This Death
that assumes a million faces,
that borrows my own.

LEAVING LAS VEGAS

Bill, Butch and Bart
Swapping penis size
in th front seat
while Thelma, Theisel and
Lou Lou up there
bouffant hairdos
and secretly go
where Blue eyeshadow
has never gone before

The savages are upon me
and I feel my flesh
Burn
beneath the teeth
of their indifference

I saw a woman
whose teeth were
straight like
White picket fences
Until she looked
at her husband-
Then they looked like
Shattered windows

UPON MOVING INTO MY VAN

Joy. Pure Joy. I am
What I always wanted
to grow up and be
Things are becoming
more of a dream with
each working day-
The heavy brows of Daily Life
are becoming encrusted
with glitter and the shaking finger
of consequence is
beginning to giggle
Grumpy old men
have wings
Bums sport halos
and everyday dullness
has begun to breathe
as I remember the
incredible lightness
of living

There is a pretty girl
on the
Face
of the magazine
And
all I see
is my dirty
hands
turning the page
Little breasts attached to
skinny ribs and hungry bellies
determined legs;
persuasive swing
careful hands
she stands
a greater threat to herself
than the cigarette
she consumes

Women who suck
their cigarettes
as though they were
giving their
hatred head

Back to Jewel's Poetry.

Back to my Jewel Page.

Back to The Music Pub.