NEW! The Inaugural Issue of Killjoy!

The Inaugural Issue of Killjoy is now live! 

Poetry by Sarah Lilius, Jennifer MacBain-Stephens, Jacklyn Janeksela, and many more, including me!

Unpleasant variations of the same again
and again. An ugly relationship
that's never going to end. A broken ring
finger shot off. Another blastomycosis.

A helpless heart beating,
unbeating, ground into
blood smeared terrain until it rots.
What was your heart worth?


Pepper (January 20, 2017)

I like to think I don't need pepper spray, because I have enough
pepper and red salt in between my own
fingernails and thighs.

No you don't, he tells me. You're just a girl.
He rips me apart, rams himself inside, shows me
I can't even be in charge of my own body,
so what makes me think I can save anyone else.

He says I smell like pepper, but that doesn't mean I am
strong enough to fight back.
The pepper works itself into my own eyes and blinds me.
But even if my fingers are temporarily numbed,
they will never be like him, they will never tear others apart
for no reason other than brutal force.

He hates every other
body of sweet or spicy light.
All he wants to do is destroy
other's blood, in order to feel
like his body is stronger.

He wants to be the boss of broken body parts,
but some of us will refuse to be his apprentice. 

Some of us have hearts that cannot be easily baked
in this oven. Some of us have hearts that desire 
to rise above all this hate.


NEW in Riot Felice - FIVE of my poems!!!!!

"When my computer crashed, I thought I had lost so many details of myself
or at least seven years worth of me
stored on the computer he had bought me
and let me keep when our relationship died.
When my hard drive was restored, I found out I hadn’t lost
his rampant collection of hardcore porn videos
including woman after woman sucking dog dick."

(from my poem "Abuse")
I have 5 poems up at riot felice!

"Dark Purple Spread Shot", "Abuse", "Falling", "Root Rot" and "Dancing By Myself"!

 Lots of other poem-y stuff too!


NEW Rabbit thoughts in TL; DR!

"I find a female artist's visual interpretation of malformed
mutant female human doll bodies oddly uplifting, but 
a male artist so focused on twisting and contorting female
body parts into mutant shapes makes me wonder what the
hell that male thinks about real life female bodies. Does he
look at two real women standing next to each other and
think about cutting off both of their upper torsos and heads
and sewing a leg with a hole on top another leg with a hole?"

More HERE - http://www.tldrmagazine.com/single-post/2017/01/09/Three-rabbit-thoughts-Juliet-Cook - http://www.tldrmagazine.com/single-post/2017/01/09/Three-rabbit-thoughts-Juliet-Cook

NEW Winter 2017 Edition of Menacing Hedge, including three of my poems!

Very darkly deliciously delighted and excited to have three of my poems included within the NEW Winter 2017 Edition of Menacing Hedge! 
The fabulous cover art for this issue was created by Susan Yount.
Thank you for the creative powers of Kelly Boyker Guillemette, Gio Guillemette, Amanda Gowin, Kiara McMorris, and Menacing Hedge.

I was black circles
and dark painted nails.
I kept my rough drafts concealed,
even though they outnumbered the polished lines.
I secretly admired her raw exposures, 
her giggling glimmers, her fluttering fingers,
the pages of works in progress, 
ripped out fast, splayed all over the room.

(a small sampling from my poem, "Pumpkin Gut Grave") 


Seven Year Anniversary

Today is the seven year anniversary of me having an unexpected carotid artery dissection, which led to an aneurysm, which caused a stroke, which caused significant brain damage.
I had to undergo a risky surgery that involved having a stent inserted into my upper neck so that I didn't bleed to death.
I had to re-learn the alphabet, my family member's names, my friend's names.
I had to re-learn to read via children's books.
For a while, I felt very nervous that I might not be able to write poetry anymore, even though poetry had been my primary passion in life for years. Sometimes my own poetry doesn't make sense to other people, but for a while it didn't even make sense to me!
Fortunately, I think it was my genuine passion for words and writing and individualistic communication and creative expression and poetry that had a powerful impact on my recovery. I'm pretty sure anyone who met me these days would have no idea that I had underwent such serious brain damage.
I still have issues with some easy words, but since I'm a word-based person, I've gotten pretty good at replacing those words with other words. Actually, I think it's pretty interesting that the words I have the most trouble with are the easy basic words, but I'm fine with uneasy unusual big words.

Also, sometimes I can't think of a word, but I can think of its first letter and VISUALIZE the words length. However my brain healed itself from its neurological damage, I'm now more visual than I used to be.

The stroke didn't change my overall personality, but I do feel it made me more mentally prone to separating the genuinely REAL from the FAKE when it comes to friendship, relationships, and love.


Little update: The last paragraph above could probably be interpreted (or possibly misinterpreted) in different ways, in part since I got tried while writing it and lost the energy to elaborate, but I can say it wasn't directed at any one person, situation or relationship.

It was directed at various different kinds of relationships in general.

And sometimes it's hard for me to understand what "friendship" or "love" means to other people, because it means a lot of different things to a lot of different people.

And I think all of those things are fine, as long as they're genuine.

"Post-Stroke my words are not over-
ly obvious. Why on earth should my
non overly obvious poetry be dead?

1. Telebloodied brain cadaver with pernicious red limp.
2. Telebloodied drain dagger with growing open limbs.

3. My carotid swirling, awaited a dangerous blow torch
from the crotch; clicked in, rose up, added platinum mesh
deep inside my odd head. In spite of my almost annihilation.

4. A vicious new voice will slowly seep out of my skull.
5. Will spill more pretty crooked plucked out wordage."


the first poem from the first tiny little poetry chapbook I created after my stroke:


Flesh-tearing shark shaped snarks

Maybe I sometimes phrase things wrong by saying I don't give a fuck about scenes (in regards to poetry/art).
Sometimes I have little word issues and question my own words and wonder what certain basic words even mean and maybe "scene" wasn't the right word to express my discomfort, because all a "scene" really means is a place or an acting sequence, I guess, and "place" is so broad scale and the type of "scenes" I was thinking of are small.
My mind seems to associate scenes with small group trends and that sort of thing.
I'm not particularly interested in the latest trends, but I am interested in poetry community.
I don't disrespect or discredit the desire for community; in fact, I think that poetry/art communities can be very necessary and very positive. I guess I just don't think that my interest causes me to fit into any one particular scene; but maybe it does if the scene is POETRY.
I do enjoy being around people with similar interests, or at least communicating with people with similar interests.
What I don't enjoy, don't respect, and don't understand the positive points of are the sort of scenes or groups or communities (or whatever you call them) that seem like popularity contests.
Like they're competing against each other and want to bash others down.
Like they get off by lashing out at others, carelessly picking on others, and creating their own mean non-mainstream cheerleader squad routine.
I've seen/heard poets bitch about other poets, have little snark-fests about other poets, and so forth.
Those are the kinds of scenes I dislike. The scenes that create their own narrow groups who pretend to be diverse when they're stabbing other people behind their backs.
The communities filled with a small infestation of snark-festing, as if they get off by cutting others down and trying to drown them, like flesh-tearing shark shaped snarks patrol these waters and can't get enough of others' blood.
Poetry in and of itself is non-mainstream, yet some of this non-mainstream community seems to want to fit in to the more mainstream approach grouping themselves into smaller groups and then attacking the other groups.
Maybe everything in life is like that and I just notice it more in poetry land, since that's where a lot of my personal attention and energy is directed.
When it comes to poetry and art (and other things too), I don't really care whether or not someone has a college degree (or what their degree is in), whether or not they're social or antisocial or somewhere in between, whether or not they consider themselves academic or independent or something different.
I don't desire to quickly narrow my poetry friend list down into any particular sort of group.
I care about whether or not they're genuinely poetic and whether or not I like their poetry and their personality (although it's also possible for me to like someone's poetry, but find their personality very bothersome - and vice versa).


NEW Poetry Chapbook Review (of "In Their Own Way" by Chella Courington)

My review of the poetry chapbook, "In Their Own Way" by Chella Courington (Crow Hollow Books, 2016), appears within the NEW issue of Arsenic Lobster, HERE - http://arseniclobster.magere.com/index.html
Of course, you should also read the poetry in this new issue, which includes work by Blood Pudding Press poet Alessandra Bava, and lots of other stuff too.

NEW in Rogue Agent Issue 22 (Happy New Year!)

"My long letters ruin friendships.
It doesn't matter whether they're overly positive
or overly negative or a juxtaposition of both."
from my poem "IT DOESN'T MATTER", in the new Issue 22 of Rogue Agent.
Happy to start the New Year by having a poem published, surrounded by other poems, inside the new Issue 22 of Rogue Agent.

HERE - http://www.rogueagentjournal.com/jcook-2


NEW in the Rag Queen Periodical - My tendency to feel as if expressing myself is wrong

"My tendency to apologize when I haven't done anything wrong
other than accidentally hurting the feelings of someone
who doesn't understand my feelings.

My tendency to feel like a hissing venomous snake
when the reason I hissed is because my own space was invaded
with mouths that can't stop themselves from approaching me their way.

They don't get me, or they don't see me, or they want to change me,
stomp me down into their so-called solidity"

from my poem "My tendency to feel as if expressing myself is wrong" at Rag Queen Periodical

(somehow I missed this when it meant up last week, so I'm posting it this week. Hey, it's still December after all and I'm very excited to be a Rag Queen. I love the image above the poem too, of a little girl and her snake.)