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on Stage
a peacock of makeup  
the comedian
bating thunderous uproar
knighting fury
turning humour over the belfries
of the overcharged assemblage

he fouls with them
utilizing his vile material
putting together ideas that no brain wants scribe
you create yourself
your twist at his bidding)
you become broken down and ******
applied apart by his gagging speech
and his splintering costumes of mood

the comedian builds from this
until rage
and ruptures of relief

a berserk laughter is result
kettled in the mob reaction
a collective convulsion
a need
more than a mirth
japes dressed in death
have foraged a credible rebirth

his soldiers attired
he has seized his corps of souls
his Mad recruits of Chaos
the comedian pulls out a plastic toy Sabre  
and directs the revulsion
(the Grand Prank)
in a charge against
the wealthy neighbours
(with a deviant tap upon each left shoulder)
drown by the lake pier

i fish to sleep forever

never wash ashore
self semi plagiarized
Anti Haiku
Jon Thenes Oct 7
I devolved in our relationship
We weren’t very good to each other
No gifts without subtext

We deactivated each other’s progress
and explored an unhealthy mire

A No Mans Land Of buried munitions
Not a partnership
A credit to the both of us that we lead other lives now
And that our relation successfully dissolved
Jon Thenes Oct 7

THE WHOLE WORLD BERATES IN UPON THIS ROOM. It is deafening and, perhaps, imaginary.

   Sits Lonely A Teen / Either Gender / Unclothed

    (a mental stream)

Showing off blood
I call out a name
It feigns at being blameless
(a practice quite heartless)
I call out a name
Yet the response is similar
It fades out of marking
Kettle sounds ;
the window
beyond; night
beyond; weather
the pattern ;
no progress
I tone out a name
I am alone
On this mattress
Subject and
Jon Thenes Oct 4
my unclean windows

a depleted point of view

my tiring eyesight
Anti Haiku
Jon Thenes Oct 4
a respite from The You

this immense communication

step back from The Live Mould

and the ‘fright & flight’ media
Fight or Flight Hive Mind
Jon Thenes Oct 4
Little shadow
         harked madam

a bird who wears her wings
only as wardrobe
  (though she dreams
   in fits
of infantasy)

  dusty in her bedroom
in trust to her headspace
      an attic dweller

    home school tutored
a burden to her wellspring
   and buried to her title

         feet behind the curtain
little shadow
         with the unclaimed
the name of


         A foe in the night
an aviary of the berserk :
          vocal nicker
and disputes at high frenzy
  lend from her garret

uneasy on the household
coughing up all of the family
  cussing from their berths

the awoken
shamble and mumble in the hallway
  move in a broken thread up to her attic
   they’ll crack open her privacy
     and find her fast out on the bedding

you can’t spell that to her ghost
        in Elizabeth’s sleep
    it’s sprung from its host

a living haunting
a messed up devotion
  expresses itself on the family
   enforces itself emotionally

the hallways are trailed
    with dried flowers
   and stinging nettles

don’t tread the halls at night
without a pair of slippers
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