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Ongoing Thoughts

Jen Selinsky

Copyright © 2007 by Jen Selinsky

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Cover Art Copyright © 2005 by Jen Selinsky

ISBN: 9781370156160

*Not every poem included in this book is dated in chronological order.  This is not an oversight on my part. Rather, I have made changes and substitutions over the years.


It seems that everything is simpler,

Yet more confused because of the

Direction of my life.

This is not a good time for fear to

Reside in my mind; this is a good time

To explore all my essential components,

Before they all try to disappear!

I shall persevere because all

Of this is part of God’s plan,

And my mind will be at ease,

As the time grows even closer.

I desperately want out, but I should

Not rush the last moment of leisure that

Runs through my life; I don’t know what the

Future will be like!

I may not even have an opportunity

To breathe my wonderful breath that

I hold so dear.

Ahead of myself, I’d like to think so,

But when has this automatically become

A good thing?

It will be a great adjustment, but heaven knows

That I will find a way to get along.

Nothing dire, nothing near anywhere extreme,

Until it happens.

I need something to reassure me that

Things are going to be fine—that things

Will work out because of my hard work

And perseverance.

And those who have supported me

Will not be disappointed at

What my life has become.

They will look at me and see the success

That I have since achieved.


I would like to believe that I will never die,

But death is the inevitable evil.

And I will leave nothing behind—nothing by which

To be remembered the mark that I thought

Was indelible was nothing more than

A streak of blue, washable paint!

The chunk that my fangs have torn out of the earth

Has now grown back, stronger than ever.

I wonder what Shelley or Byron would think

About having their works, the very blood and sweat

Of their brow, torn apart like the fresh meat of human flesh.

All these thousands of rambling brats,

Which I have been producing for the last ten years,

Must never again see the light of day, they must

Be committed to flame!

Where the hell is Hume when I need him?

Thus this tedious labor has come to an end,

But I am nothing without these defective beings.

The very essence of my life has been torn apart,

And so has that of my musical muse.

Alliteration, onomatopoeia, the repetition


Thousands of these brats have too many genes

In common, and none of them will ever be able

To establish a name for themselves or their


Anne Bradstreet said it well herself.

Oh, if sweet cynicism were alcohol

And pessimism were an opiate,

Then I would be in some kind of drug-

Induced state that shall last, until the works

Of this old body have come to an end.


It’s good to know that I didn’t offend you.

I suppose that I just have to much yellow

Bile in my system, and I suppose that youth

Does have its faults, but it is strong for the most

Part as it refuses to die, I could feel myself weakening

Over the last few years.

Some ideals have come and gone, but I will not

Let go of the goddess of freedom that’s inside me.

I will not allow myself to go by the wayside,

Like Wordsworth and Coleridge did!

Let me be like Blake, Keats, Shelley, and Byron,

Who lived short, but meaningful lives

(Well, Blake lived a lot longer, but he set up

The foundation).

In Shakespeare’s day, I would be in my forth

Or fifth stage of life.

The infant, the child, the lover, and the soldier

Are all gone.

All the world may very well be a stage, but everyone

Has to make an exit sometime.

This great transition is leading me to such frustration;

I want my life to be like Paul’s red roses

That stuck out due to the background of white snow.

Part of me is actually starting to think that I want to

Grow old—that it would be something pleasant,

And that part has already given up!

Think of all the brilliant minds whose carriers’

Times were cut short.

I don’t want to be cut off any time soon,

Just as long as I can keep that youthful mind-frame,

Spark, and aesthetic glow, I could tell the world

When I have grown to live twenty more years

That I am truly twenty years younger!

If only our bodies would never age

Past twenty-five and live a full life.

Degradation is something so vile and frightening

That I don’t feel I want to face it.

My second childhood is fast approaching,

But no swift eye needs to detect it.

It is floating up, while the sands of time

Are sliding down the hourglass, that is no longer

My figure.

I’m sorry to have to portray my morbid views,

But I have been advised by my family never to get old,

And I will do what I can to fight that damnable

Stage of my life.

Pushing back years can boost my self-confidence.

Pushing back the years may cause Father Time

So much grief that he may turn even older

And greyer himself.

Mother Earth is not looking so good herself

The irreversible damage we have done,

Like age, is enough to make Ulysses, himself,

Unrecognizable, even to his maid!!

Farewell for now, fellow traveler!

I will respond to you later, when I am in a

Better frame of mind…



Today, I have let my hard exterior go back

To the softness of my rosy flesh, and my

Heart of ice has melted

Upon reading a piece of prose—a farewell

To my mother’s dear friend; I have found that

I am not the best that I have claimed myself to be.

This touching memoir has allowed me to cry

Real tears and feel something beyond the

Bitter cold.

Now that I am caught off-guard, what are you going to do?

I know that some of my previous actions were intended

To gain attention, but my hard exterior was

Really an obstacle, and it is something which

I have not yet awaken to the world of spring,

For winter still lies in the veins of this temple.

Only kind words and affection can thaw me out

With the passing of time.

Schubert is playing in the background—the oboe

Sounding with the strings.

No, my “defense” has been lowered for today,

And I have allowed myself to act and feel like

A human being, rather than some kind of

Cruelly constructed machine.

Yes, cynicism has left me for a time.

So long, but just enough for me to allow myself

To have this moment of reflection.

If all the same does not stand true tomorrow,

Then let it be, for I have allowed myself some time

To feel true compassion for one individual—

Another freed soul!



Today, I have let my hard exterior go back to the softness of my rosy flesh, and my heart of ice has melted upon reading a piece of prose—a farewell to my mother’s dear friend; I have found that I am not the best that I have claimed myself to be. This touching memoir has allowed me to cry real tears and feel something beyond the bitter cold. Now that I am caught off-guard, what are you going to do? I know that some of my previous actions were intended to gain attention, but my hard exterior was really an obstacle, and it is something which I have not yet awaken to the world of spring, for winter still lies in the veins of this temple.

Only kind words and affection can thaw me out with the passing of time.

Schubert is playing in the background—the oboe sounding with the strings. No, my “defense” has been lowered for today, and I have allowed myself to act and feel like a human being, rather than some kind of cruelly constructed machine. Yes, cynicism has left me for a time.

So long, but just enough for me to allow myself to have this moment of reflection. If all the same does not stand true tomorrow, then let it be, for I have allowed myself some time to feel true compassion for one individual—another freed soul!


Again, you talked to me on the telephone,

And I hate that your voice was a bit meek

And trembling.

What do you find so interesting about me?

What could possibly make me appeal

To a youth such as yourself?

Last night, things were a little better,

But last night has given you more hope

That we may get together.

Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself just because

You think that I’m the one.

Many people have thought about me

Over the years, and all of them happened

To be wrong.

Please inform me that friendly phone calls

And e-mails are enough to keep “us” going.

Even though we have not met face to face,

I know that I have touched your soul.

I think that you have even touched mine

A little, but not enough to make me want

To fall into your arms.

Not everything has to be romance-based,

And you don’t need me as a counterpart to live.

Deep in our minds, I think we both know

That other things take priority.

You have opened up your soul

And your mind to something you may not

Necessarily like, but it’s all right

Because you do not know what you’re

Getting yourself into.

Let me give you some words of wisdom,

Try to pursue something that will

Actually made you happy.


What did I do, what did I say

This time to make you veer away?

I know that I have not had time for you

Recently, but I want to know what

You think of me.

If I am not a light or the inspiration

That you hold in your heart every day

Or every night, then I must not be

Worth very much of your time.

Please tell me what I have done,

If anything, to make your life better.

I don’t want to think that I am

A sheer burden and that you only

Talk to me out of a sense of duty.

This silence is close to driving me

To madness, and I don’t know how much

More of this I can take from you.

I am through playing the fool in the

Game of cards (or the squire to your

Drunken knight).


You’re right, I’ve turned myself off

To something that I used to enjoy.

Human sexuality takes center stage

For people within my age group, but

I no longer fit that category.

The act is nothing but a gross display

Of affection, which some people do for


Others do it to produce offspring

(Or maybe a little of both for each).

Those who know me very well know

To keep a good distance because I do

Not like to be touched—by anyone.

Most of my activity lies within my mind,

And if you try to dissect it, then I would

Lose practically everything.

As for my heart, it’s there a little,

But it’s mostly around so I can keep this

Body alive.

Oh, the ticking and tocking

Of all these hours away—

I’m probably going to be like this

For the rest of my life, you know,

So you might as well get used to it

Right now.

Boyfriend, lover, at those two words,

I more than often cringe, and I wonder

Why some people waste their time

With such foolish things.

But I should keep going by the philosophy

To each her/his own because I do not

Like it when people criticize me for my views.

It makes me feel like a trapped animal,

And the thought of sex becomes more and more

Revolting by the minute.

How many millions of people are engaging

In this demeaning activity right now?

The body, at least my body, should be

Concealed to a reasonable state so that

No one night think these disgusting thoughts

About me anymore (and I question their

Sanity if they do!).

Please let me go one living and playing

The part of the undesirable right now

Because I am living for the moment—

But not in the same way that the hedonists do.

Oh, let me shrink down to nothing—a small

Physical size that may only hope to maintain

After months of dieting and puking.

The great untouchable has struck again!

Oh I love how *Hedda’s icy blue (blood) runs

Through my veins, and I am STILL not

Like some of you.

This way, I am cooler and less subject

To all the passionate anger that arises

From some of the lovers today.

What a shame to see these young minds

Go to waste, as they focus on mostly their bodies.

After all, I don’t know if we are allowed to

Have thought in the afterlife.

We might as well use it while we still can

Because it is not going to get any better

As for that ghastly, unspeakable act.

I’ve done it enough to know that it’s

Nothing great and that it’s not worth much

Of the trouble.

You know all the standard lies and medical statistics

That go along with this promise of a pleasure satisfaction,

And you can see through them, like cheap tracing paper.

I can keep writing on this subject, until my pen

Runs dry, and my hands grow weary from the task,

But the world will not listen.

It doesn’t ever listen to one who is so young

And completely idealistic!

*Hedda Gabler


It’s About Damn Time

Now that I’ve actually had time with

This moment to reflect, I have come

To the conclusion that I have only

One thing to say at the moment.

It’s about damn time that I took a stand

Against anything that I think is wrong,

Are wrong, and that includes thoughts

That these co-called prophets put

Into our heads!

What do THEY know of Christ

And the world?

What do they know about predestination?

One cannot help the way they are born,

But there are always going to be those

Who force you into thinking one way or another;

They have already done that to me, and it is

Like hell trying to break away from these

Closed-minded notions.

I used to be so good, almost like an ideal

Christian teen, but this body has done some things

These goody-goodies would not like,

Yet I should not judge them, lest I be

Judged by others.

Some may be those easy answer types,

Looking for life’s demand, significance,

Why we were created to be on this planet

I wish them well, but I wish they would

Leave us alone.

Their way of thinking is going out of fashion,

And it’s about time that the rest of us

Should have a say!


I Feel No More

I have fallen into what some

Would like to call oblivion,

And it is a state if which

I can be free from this thing

Called “human emotion.”

I am, by definition, what others

Would call a human because

I do not have the capacity to be

Immortal, as I live and breathe

The same as you.

And, for being human, I have

To have an identifiable sex

It is obvious that I am female,

But I make no claim of it,

Nor do I associate the fact with

What I have designed myself to do

What if our souls were completely

Taken away?

The answer, sometimes, lies within me.

I feel and say this with such

Extreme difficulty.

Suffice to say, it has already happened

To so many today.

Sadness grows on my part for

Having to admit all this, but

No progress can be made, while

We only stand amidst the depression.

Be demonstrative, dare to break away

From the convention, which has

Put us here in the first place.

Salvage, salvage, what you can,

Before the wreck has more time

To increase, thus allowing the world

To set itself up for a

Dangerous proposition.

It’s all up to us!


By no means do I have a bad impression

Of you, nor do I think any ill of you.

All this may just be the circumstance

Of a big misunderstanding.

The story was a self-expression

For the most part, and I felt that I had to

Get the message across to save us both

Time and heartache.

You are truly a compassionate and

Wonderful being, which, as I have said

Many times, is an admirable quality.

There should be more in the world

Just like yourself.

I am sorry to have to say this,

But I have felt stifled, and I do not think

That I am quite ready for a commitment

Of any kind.

I am starting graduate school in the fall,

And I do not feel that I will have

Much time to devote to that kind of relationship.

I am honestly starting to think that I

Am not meant to have any more

Romantic involvements, at least for

The next few years.

I am also sorry to have to be so blunt,

But I felt that I had to, somehow, get

My message across.

It would have been much worse if we

Were to start dating and something happened

That would make us wish we could

Take back the last, few years.

I have been down that road before,

And I wouldn’t want to have to

Jilt another individual.

As I have said before, you are

A terrific person, and I wish you

Nothing but the best.

I just have this nagging feeling

That the two of us would not

Be good together.

I will, of course, continue to pray for you

And your future endeavors, as I know

That you will succeed.

You are a strong person, who’s going to

Go very far in his life,

And I hope that God gives you

His finest blessing.

Please know that you have

A true heart of gold,

And that compassion is

One of the best qualities

That an individual can possess,

Especially in this day and age.

Always remember to trust

In yourself.


Oh! Let me bang my skull on the nearest object,

And all the pieces can come flying out of my head.

I am working myself to death in this desolation, with

Hardly anything to show for my pain!

Where is my sweet muse, and when will she come again

To restore my tired mind?

Sweet harps, sweet sound, I don’t think that anything

Can take me out of this right now.

Insert a cattle prod into my brain; just insert anything so that I can get

Over this as quickly as I can all those who depend on me

Are crying, begging for more a solid form of art that could

Touch their minds enough so that they can create their own.

Cowardice is always shown, on my part, when I refuse to make

Anything better suited for something that would guarantee

That I get situated.

Oh! These poor ideas, draining out of my head, leaving me

Void of anything worthwhile, void of all that has made

Me want to deliver these words of my life to all

Those who await new thoughts, any words of wisdom that

Dare to touch the souls, who seek enlightenment.

My lack of versatility in wanting to

Say what I feel has been

Stunted to a point near which desperation lies—

Stunted by thinking that these things

Can clear up in only a matter of hours.

That is, most obviously, not the case

Still stuck until the small hours of morning,

When my mind is supposed to be at its clearest.

This day has not seen much greatness

Of any wisdom, coming from my mind,

In such a coherent form.


Messages in and out;

Don’t do this to me

After all I’ve seen,

Heard, and exclaimed

In my frustration.

So bitter that I don’t care

About anything except for

These words and the angry

Thoughts that cross my mind—

Making me disgusted and

Driving me to the point

Of complete nausea.

I have clearly burned all my bridges

So that none of these elements

May approach me.

What must I do next,

Put my hands up to my ears

And cancel out every ounce of noise

That these demons make from

The mouths of those who

Are so misguided?

Next, I should probably climb a mountain

And have, “leave me alone” the

Only thing flowing from my stung lips,

Swollen from biting them, filled with the

Blood that spurts out when

Teeth break the flesh,

Just like this, over and over again

To prevent the anger from

Reaching anyone else.

This is why I

Hide and choose

To remain hidden in my

Cave of allegories,

Banging my head and scratching

My nails down

My back if I have to

Blood risen from this anger,

Which is fed out of control to

The body that carries it all

Liner, line me an ocean so that

I may wade in the sludge of things

That remain, and don’t dare

Let anyone interrupt my thoughts,

Or else theirs will be taken away

Once they hear my scream

Into their souls,

Make them flee in fear.

They cannot come here

Until my inner beast is slain.


In the wake, in the calm,

Some things can ease my soul.

Slow, fast, control,

But you had better approach me

Slowly, lest I might snap

Right before your eyes.

You thought you knew me,

But all the fascination must end here.

At my anger and methods of suppression,

Unless you want me to move on

And fill you in on every detail,

Which I can do because I still

Have time.


Looking back on those pages,

I have the distinct honor of saying

That I left something valuable behind

For future generations to ponder.

Seven years, has it really been that long

Since I was released from that minor

Pandemonium and started creating

My scene in the modern day era?

Oh, just the thought of going back

Right now only adds to the torment and

Regret at not having something worthwhile!

Shed some light on the subject, and let me

Go through some kind of new process—

One that will enable me to present

To the world my durability!

I did not say that I hid it in the early stages

Of my life.

Coming back now, all the way back now,

‘Tis true.

Words and feelings that have struck fear in me

Are making their way back to you.

Suddenly, you can’t handle it, and you

Don’t know how much these kinds of things

Can affect one human life, who wished to

Break on through the lines she straddles

In order to become a better part of the continuum.

It has happened, oh sweet memories come to my aid,

Just when I feel I need them the most in my

Misguided manner.

I have become free and trusting in a most

Astonishing way with the breaking of

Every new day.

Allow me to end my suspended state and

Show the world what I am about to become

Through influential guidance and happiness,

Never last making my list

This time, you know that I mean business

Because I can to on like this for days

In any, given medium.

Only truth happens unless I make

This too long.



This is driving me mad

(I’m just) a few seconds away

From pulling every last strand

Of hair out of my head!

Now, I think of the others and

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