A Night Without Armor

For the upcoming audio release of Jewel's new book, Harper-Collins was unable to include this finalized tracklisting on the graphics on the first (and probably most copies to be sold) pressing of the" A Night Without Armour" CD.

This will be corrected on future pressings, but for now, or instead of buying it twice, you may want to print this out as a way to identify this CD with 87 tracks. The tracks are not in the same order as the book & not all of the poems in the book are included so a tracklist may be very helpful. Special thanks to Mr. BB for this early list.

This is a color graphic that was designed to be printed for the back, under tray insert. Originally designed for color laser printing, so it is high resolution, 150 dpi, 882x694x16.7 million colors. Please download the full image and set your print settings accordingly for best results.

Official finalized tracklist on Jewel's "A Night Without Armour" spoken word CD:

Jewel's Poetry

These poems are available here:

Pieces Of You

Me

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 of wine
I've cheated on boyfriends
I've owned fake ID
But my hair is still blonde
and my teeth are still crooked
and I probably won't always like
the color of wine

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 I still 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 anytthing
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
incompetence 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 they 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 brother's smile
That kills my neighbor's 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 the front seat
while Thelma, Theisel and
Lou Lou up there
bouffant hairdos
and secretly go
where Blue eyeshadow
has never gone before

Criticism

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

Untitled

I saw a woman
whose teeth were
straight like
White picket fensces
Until she looked
at her husband-
They 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 waking 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
Burns sport Halos
and everyday dullness
has begun to breathe
as I remember the
incredible lightness
of living

Untitled

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

Las Vegas

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

---

Save The Linoleum

Hommage To Home

For the sweat of my father
and the tough nails that broke his heart

for the sun on our backs and
the water on our brows
the heat on our minds

for the silent miles of dirt roads
Our eyes busy reading the
signs (on the days we took the car)

for bad meals turned good
by hunger, everything beatiful
in the red hot heat of our coal stove

for an honest sleep in
an old bed in an old house
built of hand and log

(had nothing been said all day?)

---

You Were Meant For Me

Flight #364

I
i miss you
my teeth ache
my bones are confused
	they'd grown so close
my flesh cries like children
i speak to them in hush
it's not fair they say
	bring him back!
	beg him stay!
it's not up to me. i try to explain
but mind can't make heart understand

	it does not whimper

its one lashed eye keeps blinking
it insists simply with quiet disbelief

LOVE IS NOT WITHOUT YOU

II

I go back today
back to where I must move from
my toothbrush no longer welcome

my clothing canker sores

my altar a wound
whose bleeding can only stop
when there's nothing left
to remind him of me

(I don't wanna go)

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