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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:

1. Intro
2. As A Child I Walked
3. Lost
4. Wild Horse
5. It Is Like A Dream
6. Bukowsky’s Widow
7. To Shine
8. Paramount Hotel, NY 9:34 AM
9. It Has Been Long
10. Too Many Nights
11. I Look At Young Girls Now
12. Seattle
13. Saved From Ourselves
14. Taking The Slave
15. Sun Bathing
16. Red Roof Inn, Boston
17. So Just Kiss Me
18. Second Thoughts In Columbus, Ohio
19. Cautious
20. The Dark Bells
21. The Inertia Of A Lonely Heart
22. Untitled
23. Communion
24. Love Poem
25. Father Of A Deaf Girl
26. Dionne & I
27. 1B
28. The Slow Migration Of Glaciers
29. Tai Pei #1
30. Tai Pei #3
31. Tai Pei #2
32. 1966
33. Watching A Couple On A Beach
34. Envy
35. The Magazine
36. Las Vegas
37. Those Certain Girls
38. #34
39. #35
40. Dylan
41. Camouflage
42. Sara Said
43. Parking Lot
44. Coffee Shop
45. I Say To You Idols
46. Steady Yourself
47. Awaken Love
48. Gather Yourself
49. Bleary Eyed
50. I Miss Your Touch
51. Night Falls
52. I Have Been Called Naive
53. Under Age
54. Grimshaw
55. My Dad Went To Vietnam
56. All The Words
57. You Are Not
58. The Strip #1
59. Infatuation
60. The Fall
61. Long Has A Cloak
62. I’m Leaving
63. Freedom
64. To Be Alone
65. Christmas In Hawaii
66. Lovers For Lily
67. Cut Lillies
68. Preparing Myself
69. Spivey Leaks
70. Still Life
71. I Don’t Suppose Raindrops
72. Sometimes
73. Blanketed By A Citris Smile
74. The Road
75. I Guess What I Wanted Was
76. Insecurity
77. I Am Patient
78. Fragile
79. I Keep Expecting You
80. #37
81. I Am In Love
82. Someone To Know Me
83. Home
84. Sauna
85. Goodness
86. God Exists Quietly
87. Listen

Jewel's Poetry

Jewel has included a portion of her poetry in Pieces Of You, Save The Linoleum and You Were Meant For Me.

These poems are available here:

  • Me
  • Faith Poem
  • Leaving Las Vegas
  • Criticism
  • Untitled
  • Upon Moving Into My Van
  • Untitled
  • Las Vegas
  • Hommage To Home
  • Flight #364
  • 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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