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5d · 117
sunrise                                                      ­   ­                                       
first optic pins toe-tipping play across the meadow
wind bends the forrest fringe west away
the trees adverse to receive
priestly daylight
after all the  
during a most
competitive and predatory
brevity homework - personification
May 14 · 175
neth jones May 14
uncut grass
   casts long shadows by night
animated on the inside
   of our basement windows
elongating and dashing away
   projected by the passing traffic
no mow may (May 2021)
Apr 30 · 188
neth jones Apr 30
His :

i make my travel
reseeding you
                my dear heart
                      into a compact unit of storage

i relieve from our nesting comfort
dismiss our established downey base of cooperation
                                   cleave from our snared compromise

instead to bed and thieve an unshared atmosphere
guilty joy followed by joyful normality
no stale thing

unravelling light
  that I've a capsule world
  when i turn
  toward our lap again)

goodbye of you i am mended
made completely free
                    on the first turn of a corner

& Hers :

you leave me
      on your travels (you-were-my-travels)
you leave me susceptible
my heart alters to become
       a weak permeable tissue of easy tamper
       membership structure is dissolved
         returned to the vital spill
           welcome fluent contamination
               villainess and godless vibration
                  of the goddess confession

dress hooked up past my waist
i'll power-**** away my morality on day one
each day following shall be made easy
  ushered along in brutalities slip steam
                        and the prom of eddies

back in time i've been working on something..
       i'll call it The ****** List
criminal joys and tasks of double self daring
     (not folded over
       or veloped in the knicker drawer)
           it operates as a basking lurk
                               tucked discreetly
                                 correct behind the eye
                      a charm feature of the unconscious
when released
   it's something melkish and larking with energy
   tacking harm to my activated mischief
      kinetic value and uncontrollable spur

in your absence
     i am permissionless
i account for nothing

nooks of the apartment
the memory of us quickly forms a ***** coral
i've stopped washing to suit this mode
my body, a journal of stains and earned bruises
i holla and bay at mementoes of our brace
and then stop at the near point of the neighbours tolerance

time has crushed in on its own thesis
become gummy and tenseless
skipping about in haphazard spasms
  backstep, bow and reversal
          observably organic in motion
           and proud of its many personalities

Oh, You're Back Again !
    no, it is your ghost
is it a spy ? ... i doubt you knew you even had it
it threads in and out of my company
seeming baffled and far from its comfort zone
did i put you there ?
i don't call you
the physical you
because you said 'no phones'
              and 'only in emergencies' (is-this-urgent ?)
Is This Urgent ?!
i restrict where i live in here
     keep the windows widowed and veiled
it makes for an unreal canvas
i'm weeding for a correction
sensual precarious highs
in a spate
with this time alone
i'll make our home a vile space
a defication
and i can make no sense assessment of it any
i fight against digestion within these premises
i stay still long enough i am softened and palped
            by a dense atmosphere and salivations of contact
and outside..

the streets are exhausted
and i've quite the nasty reputation
violence, baiting and thievery
inebriation and toxic language
i shall soon be policed
no doubt i've lost my job
for now our place is a dare for vandals
             when i am an insensible heap
                 and perspiring over you in delirium
                    they devalue the exterior

i'll find my creative sprite
that is good
i had missed it
now this is urgent (this-is-mine-was-always)
i take up a notebook and puke it full
i take sticks in my mitt and scrawl my charcoal visions
the blood visions
   the primal mud
  on all our walls

can i piece back our home by your return ?
can I sufficiently correct the blurring history I've smutted ?
do i care to ?
no more fading into 'partner'
lease is up
you'll not find me here destroyed
or waiting
    naked but an apron with my hands cupped and mouth open
i'll have ravelled myself up tight
- having stoked my inhuman malady -
     i'll mate my own travels

                                                        ­             - aborted
Apr 24 · 105
sleep walk memory
neth jones Apr 24
life is vaporous
life is sleep and within life vapour I take a slumber
limbered keen and nimble I kip travels
unraveling lumber
  the annual rings a lolling carpet
   life is but a pencil sharpener
at my shoulder
                a nap sacked boulder
peppered quartz for schemes
  as an investor in dreams
                          i am larval

mumbling some verse nonsense
gavel for gorge
clouted by The Greats
the knowers who silk spin
     the freedom of sleep and the imagination
                                                            into­ rule and bard
the thirsty claws of the snared dream
the shared laws that barter with hurt
even as though we know ;
'ignorance is no excuse for the law'
         we ****** not forward with our 'self'
we have a trust of 'no confidence'
                      and an obedience to follow

i am some frown of traveller
        and a knowledge trawler
self-made unaware
an incomplete idiot with a knot of care
life is sleep and within that sleep i take my life
and with it
          any the fool that follows
Apr 23 · 85
neth jones Apr 23
pry it open
      clan of lies    libido            and lily lunged persuaders  
             etching wounds                   ills upon those you itched after
        letching tightly in patterns            
               then blooming out          in a ring of your 'brothers'
                        again tightening
                     breaths oppress breathing
                             a clenching jellyfish action
                         offends the natural      teaming in a derangement
                                a loyalty of cowards    each one initiation edgy
                            paid up members     linked in ceremony
                                 a skeleton grid channeling away responsibility
                          thick distaste of the unsightly      and abrasive scent
                              of your speeching spatters
                        it's unmother worldly
                             a clutch of an abusive family thing
                      that psychology      that bonds for life
                         and spans love       in all its distrustful ******
                     not a truth
             to mould in his raspy mouth
                this is a reputation
             repeated sellings
     this is not a truth
       this is just repetition
 persistently boomed      into adjustable history
     dying over and again
each hand that takes up the stylus
       muster evidence
   of our mad insistences
         the 'sharing' game
     snaring the population bulk
           and lording over it with
       your repulsating power on display
Apr 23 · 356
neth jones Apr 23
to bed
a head full of cotton wolves
                 to be
calmly deflead of aggression
                 prior to
the cloud cover of slumber
then the beasts and i
         shall procure our fathom
Brevity Homework 1
Apr 18 · 96
e c l i p s e
neth jones Apr 18
at a glimpse i clock the sky
a curtain's been draped
     and we are all shaded
all of nature shares one direction
     narrowing on the horror :
a munking and blotted violation
     the sun has filled with dark ink
an embolism out of the order of life
     voiding over us
                     over the city
                     the world described beyond
                       all voided over

i fall
         and shucked
the people around me go simple
dumb and bound with crimple gawps
     we are mugged by the sight

i feel like a farmed over minefield
              furrows being turned
trotted out
             anointed fears climb my throat
it is a show sung ill
       darker sunk
     than its surrounding leadened soak
yet ringed tightly with an annihilating halo

practical thought becomes clotted
   and my primal processor is tinkered with
evil witterings squirrel about in my thinker
my being is topped up with depravity

i must surely **** someone ?
but who..
(that kid with drool ? /
that business suit with brand name trainers ?)
   and for what reason ?

i madly stare about
look at them ; so human and null
potential victims all
                   raking in snapshots of this ecliptic venom
                     adding to the vat collective online
Prune The Brutes !
it is The Eighth Day and I know my role
Ha !
        such livid thoughts scheme

i shall wait out this exposure looked down upon
take some pics with the others
perpetrate goodly behaviour
mimic the tossers
pass through the ordeal
        with communal protection
                    and live another day
             happy slapped
                       with fresh mad
Apr 14 · 232
work schedule change
neth jones Apr 14
a sorry fist forward                                                          ­  
             and mortally i follow                          
coldly into the first dark flint of day                                            
              not my natural habitat                                                      
so quiet.. or near so
a vacancy for occasional clean                              
                             ­              isolated noises

 i pause         and pass a scan about
the hailing lack of conscious population                                 
                     ­                     all packed away
hauntings themselves in beds
- like some form of post apocalyptic storage -
they add a vague lended charge
nature is on a limited budget         this early                             
no birds yet                                   and no solar minting
a massive racoon      with only three legs      crosses my intended path
              in its mouth                    a gory wreckage                        

i steep to make balance
                         but my pores won't take it
                                                       i am sickened by the ballast
                                                         ­                                  of my breakfast

i hollow onward into these new conditions                            
still deriding what to be                                                    
     a tourist and an informer dud                                                     ­  
i have switched to the dayshift                                        
from off the spire                                  
of my regular hour                  
the evening routine

breathing is surprisingly ***** at this time
                                            a failing of settled pollution :                      
the public buildings and restaurants          
                                 are muggy in their overnight stale degassing
awaiting air currents and dispersal        

the first gulls of the morning                          
                                              emit a defeating siren
spearing through detritus                            
                            ­    they dispel the bells of purity
               somehow i've made my port of call
a struggling invertebrate
in this state i dispose my spirit                        
                                at­ the salted threshold
security staff and sanitation process                              
         between the sets of automatic doors

a workplace made alien          
   and adverse to me
purely by        
            the indecent hour
of day
neth jones Oct 2021
[gulls] summer
the morning gulls
morning gulls defeat me
an accuracy to the early hour
they spear
thorough amongst the detritus
dispelling the bells of cleanliness
in an urban morning
Apr 13 · 202
( s o r r o w )
neth jones Apr 13
so    very   sewn
the doleful mind is sung
post  to  pillar    weeping  bedlam
unplugged and unsnug smutting out ugly
stopper  in        now  properly  so
property now preserved
dammed up river
so     very     so
woefully  head is hung
side to side sweeping pendulum
frothing out malware and mad medicine
saner  cure     joins  the  jettison
salmon         up  a  river
g o d s  deliver
( s o r r o w )
Apr 8 · 273
neth jones Apr 8
that devil Billy Brate got nerve
took me to the green woods all excited
but t'was all for piping like Pan
       just what he was giddy for
             and i a reclined detainee to fawn

hollow reed whittled finger holes
he challenged natures birdsong
      and came up shrill and dry
hollow reed
      and i am boredom fed under duress
(how a girl
      can mock up an impressed
                                       gaze of awe)
it's all exhibit
a picture for his court mates to deride
he can swell his fellas with the media ;
he mistook another girl
           down deep in Foxlease Thicket
Written for a contest. Contest closed early. This would have been the entry. The challenge was to do a poem inspired by an old print of a young guy and girl hanging out in the woodlands. He plays on a pipe whilst she lies there with a neutral expression on her face. The instruction is to channel Silvia Plath. I fell short on that front.
Apr 8 · 207
hospital food
neth jones Apr 8
modern behemoth building of the sterile
herded human
              remains in sickness

racked for our chemical curing

this building is only a single day of abandon
                   away from natural reclamation
taunts are made in the wings
the ants enter and leave freely
drain moth flies frequent most water sources in the building
rodents are at the door
rabbits and groundhogs tunnel in the lawns
hawks circle above using the buildings heat
           the wild world
        allowing our inclusion
   for at least one more hospital stay
Apr 8 · 202
neth jones Apr 8
i recall this as a child

i tried to jar smoke
the plan was to release it later as a prank
      wowing friends with magician skill
i got only a stale smoke smell
  at the back of my throat
  and a collection of poisonous condensation droplets

which leads me to a further recollection
                                        involving a jar

i tried to preserve a dead duckling egg
          in a jar of river water
even sealed it puffed gases
ants became attracted
inside the jar sticky decay betrayed

this then popped into my mind

i'd fill a green jar with liquid soap
give it a shake and stare deeply
i thought it might conjure clues
        of my grown man fortune
my parents discovered the jar by my bed
they threw it away
         and called me wasteful

Apr 7 · 227
neth jones Apr 7
we kip through all the ****** on the news
i left the device on a radio channal
  awoke to it burning up static and turned it off

silence as falcon overviews us
ultraviolet sight
  looking for neon spots and trails of *****
            markings that may betray the entrance of our dwelling

i put the kettle on

our voices are clayed
            by our
   confessing inner multitude
but they're recorded all the same

i pour a cup of tea

our pattern of submission
        is signal tweaked
maintainance by murmers
****** thorough
        through our glacial surrender

i take a sip

silence as
aided by the clear weather
   a drone nips out its choice targets

we were not selected
neither us or any neighbour
but far away ;
a story heard on the device
Apr 5 · 382
neth jones Apr 5
drown in the dark
            cleansed of all vital signs  ; great relief
cold fish dreamed a thrill
        drowning in the great salivation
           a deoxygenated chill of perish
vote free the sponge of your formation
give to the new life that can fend
                                           fed off of your spoil
a greater survivor in this stern habitat
                can carry on your energy and wealth
Mar 27 · 176
~ X ~ (inpatient unit)
neth jones Mar 27
the lumy screen
x-ray mission
counting ribs
    but courting what's in-between
trying to salvage disease
    from the pardonable cage
use corrective attractors
drag them on the screen
    and mould a mange of the dark spots
humble in an alcove
zoom in on the spot
take out your little skin leafed
pocket book
clean the cough from your throat
    and sprout  'the working words of God'
a congregation of cancer cells
    put in their place
neth jones Mar 27
begin the day ; a **** taught of features
in need of clean linen,
    unswallowable meds
    and a diaper change
routine ; that'll teach ya !

they ask her the day of the week
   her name
what year it is
   when is your birthday ?
do you feel any pain ?
   do you know where you are ?

flailing in memory
they just turn off the overheads
  and let her settle into her senility
attend to the physical basics
whilst she's suckered into her own storage unit
  operating like a humming fridge
   with its door slight ajar
    and the small hot bulb
     finking on and winking off

                      - perish well 
                       & in comfort Dear
Mar 24 · 119
the glass hour
neth jones Mar 24
now ;                                                                                         
­                                   til the begging of our next death
bragging of our savage past chiming ovations
occupying the company of our hostages
when scavenge is all there truely is
'dealt with' seems a felony
shriney irredeemable
to some
quite fertile
and a breeding pulse
taking out our bludgeoning
womb of demoting anger and the elements
and blaze out your heart-pace                                        
in a most volcanic emission                                                         ­ 
                                                               ­              - the ignition
neth jones Mar 23
i govern an idling heart                                                            ­    
doomingly glazey
won't lift a care                    but won't swat no fly either
maintains functional        with the safety hitched on
observes the public goings and fro-ings            
                           without discrimination
but offers no service                          
             no aid            
and no addition

docile         and folded         and dormant of view
in a world-scape kniving to be brighter                                                   
                                           more memorable and avidly self dominant
                             i am a skiving witness

the older i get the more this approach                  
                                           is not an easy one
i observe a neighbour bully about his kids                 
using jest rewards between shouting them to heel
and cuffing them violent
i observe a lady place her friend                                  
                                      with a simple remark
('i like your choker.. it's like something i wore as a child
it's nice to remember that')
i observe war retread on the screen                                      
i observe a couple secretly kiss and brush fingers.          

human spoil seen now ;         
        it draws pity, pain and longing
i am not devoid                        
                                  ­     despite much practice          
  some involvement on my part
                                             may be due
Mar 22 · 369
a good night of sleep
neth jones Mar 22
gods out of the night                                            
out of the nights unnavigable light
luding rosy from the underworld
how you push through my faces
           the posings
  hooking behind the dense furs
     poaching out the peppish reasoning   
            dissolving its obstructive code

you rap me faint between the eyes
     every failure drapes away
           in chronicle and uttered hurt
     all so familiar                                            
            ­        seeming foreignly a warm tutting family
         all volatile material is subdued

       i am voidable soldier                        
          but you hold me in keep
            you are truthfully inclusive
     i feel beloved in animal and otherly
          pandered into the pattern
      all beyond belonging
                      and yet traceable with my many uses

a healing visit and now to business                        
footage provided to make a mood-less operation
i'm kept swaddled throughout my information sift
silt is taken and exchange given                            
                                 for a heady ****** charge

   i've been amazed in the dreams
                                     you provided
       suspended in a solving liquor of theatre
i hope my report was a good one
i woke well rested                          
        with a light feeling of reassignment
neth jones Mar 20
with eyes like owls                                              
           and a plague like motion
                                                 in the pocket of my stomach
i pledge devotion to the under-wealth  
the underflow of nutrients    
   the cold blue dare of it all
Mar 19 · 474
neth jones Mar 19
drowned and round again    
                                 in sick little circles
chopping at the bar
a round                            
                     and drown again    
                                            in little sickle stumbles
                   chopping wise at the bar                    
                                  with your wage crunched
                                   in one mitt
           and your obscenity
           in the other
neth jones Mar 16
enduring the urban winter

daring the day uncovered
            by way of a chaos of crows
                                  pulling on the weather
   breaking from their perches
crooking their feathered hinges
and 'carring' up the first subtle wash of light
they lift and clump to make a short migration
            from the city to...? [shrug]
their flight pattern seems more of a 'wit' or a 'prank'
  than a '******'
the sun machines to complete its horizon
              tugged by the last departing birds

returning in the afternoon
with the full light provided
          and messy winds to charge them
like malicious children from the playground gate
       fed and joy fighting at their hierarchy
              whilst in an unbattened flight
                      back into the city

in summer it will be the gulls
Mar 12 · 218
t e e t h
neth jones Mar 12
busy verbalizing my merchandise                                                      ­        
a display of teeth reefed behind my smile
                                                      becau­se merchandise is what i am after
                          and The Revels watch over me
                                and laughter drains down through sewer grates
i am watched over                                                             ­                             
my potential client walks away                                                                 
    but returns again with queries                                                          ­             
on this hot day                                                              ­                                   
a smell like burnt hair raises from the gutters                                            
and these are the streets that radiate                                                          ­  
on this hot day                    

an honest clash and not some some touchy bout
and here we are                                                              ­
the costly coil of pushing business together ;           
                                   a lively thrive
thrifty "*******"s and a dressing down       
circling the other and striking their buttons   
                   interlaced within is a genuine pressing
               toward each other goals  
this partnership                                                      ­                    
swiftly made                    
                                          has an extreme edge and chaotic balance          
the both of us must master or abandon our productivity             
shall we be served by this union
                                     or sever fighting ?

unfit                                                         ­            
  it swerves and suffers a pity                  
let's keep this one brief                                                     
we manage business
and scowl away with our wares
each of us feeling equally scammed
(we've made useful enemies at best)

i break out laughing all the same-how
and howl because i feel
that feeling that this could go on forever
and business has roots in all my moods

i crouch at the curb       
the curb is abrasive               
              i sit
i look at the dry heat radiating off the tarmac
the slight greasy lime taste of the air passing
the roof of my mouth
the electric wires running hum into the buildings
the storm drains at the edges of the roads
where laughter siphons down to the magma of Hades

it is waning off now                         
and i feel vague
i stand and i scan for more players
i spot a vivid orange one
one that i may barter their aura of vigour
traded for my sketchy wares
Mar 11 · 237
busk runt
neth jones Mar 11
The great gaudy flage is screamin' blood in the streets
                                          loose yawn of a gob on him
                                              all bombast n' swagger
he makes a barrage of nuisance
     channels through the public
         and scatters a juggler's performance spot
                  lobs away his change hat
then, roughly over the cobbles  
                                        he hoicks a resuscitation doll
         and stamps down a posing boot
                                                 on the 'defeated form'

an unprepared scoop of tourists
a pause for silence and begins a rant
a great performance
of well harassed combustion :

"i smear to god all the phalluses
      [he roars, all saliva]
i smug to god
             a full jug of uglies
tug on       [makes the hand gesture for male *******]
i **** off the forger
would slug it in the mug
                          if it ever did form a tissue oath
took a plug at some drunk straggler
called the baffled *** 'god-father'
            and spate spume on his fallen anatomy
[with one hand he indicates the mannequin at his heel]
       amen ******* !"

he bows
a long quiet
some people clap awkwardly
two police officers appear and hook him by the elbows
(it has been this show before)
Mar 10 · 212
neth jones Mar 10
let rot my mental status                                                           ­       
to fruit the flies
billow the belly through the button                                          
                                                      throat the needle thru the eye
sleeve the lamb back into the mutton
and make a glutton
of our air supply
guff it all out
Mar 10 · 190
neth jones Mar 10
gallows on the rooftop
where window washers go
                            to suspend
metal gibbet
            quick hinge, raise and lock
secure against the weather

  combed and packed snow
    ice crusted dunes
strain the winds over the buildings roofing
                                 an extreme combing exposure
they'll be no labor done today

On the seventh floor
i watch from behind
              an environment sealed window
              wolfing my lunch on a short break
                                in the warm fire escape

i watch
a solitary worker is ejected from a hatch in the exterior wall
                                      cuffed by a spasm of wind
he descends a short bolted ladder
              and makes a geared approach
his weight against the wind  
          he drags a heavy kit
            mummified in protective clothing
              passing my spot and he then heads outward
                    towards the bounds of the rooftop
he mends a stable stance
one foot close to the edge
the rest of him
in a low defensive pose
clips his harness to the gallows
stands to take a confident beating
            of the breath stealing
                      brawling winter gale
he radios for the gantry to be raised
neth jones Mar 10
Inuit art
framed in medical waiting rooms
famined behind glass
wronged chime

the grazing eye passes through the greed of it
little need
with such clement weather

Stretch out those eagar linkers
and read those signals
        you were nursed to read

being tactile
induce swelling
and poke at holes

There is no dignity
and we look ridiculous
        within its service

share a meal of teeth
family of whitened grins, laughs and interdependent stares
a formula
for props and catalogue

Cash in my reflection
at retail it'll fetch its metal


                       t h e          e n d
Mar 6 · 429
neth jones Mar 6
he said 'wedlock' anti-amorous lead clocked signing them contracted away from their grieving animal truths boothed in a partner grip that'll mend them toward social safety
Mar 5 · 637
00001 01
neth jones Mar 5
combined effort
      moonlight, trees, autumn breeze
  form bobbing shadows
a humorous theatre
     mocks my solitary mood
Notes For 00001 01... made into a poem


moon lumin with the breeze
cutting out uglies
cookie dough shadows
wailing hands in the trees
leaves clipped from the earth
recursed in birth before the projector
recurring all this wit and tangle
strangulates my solitary mood
and pensive strides
breaks my face into mirth
mad-mad impractical and inefficient
life complimenting simian laughter
Feb 24 · 305
jet bleak
neth jones Feb 24
i feel drunk
when reading about drunks
no bracement
i look up from the book
it's 6:45 a.m.
i'm in the hospital cafeteria
nearly time for work

in a stranger
     i clock a face
                     struggling to become a face
            she breakfasts
bent under a hood of hair
(she's not sure what expression
                     to let be witnessed )
i dodge her glance

the windows
make a massive jet mirror
          reaching the full ballroom height
a shield onto hard darkness
   protected from a primal cavity
the patrons are shied in its casting
a smudging forms at its base
   the horizon beeking
   an easing hint of winters sun

the glow is wanted
          but it brings nothing new to its display
still a hibernal wash
i don't hum with these morning frequencies
they can be beautiful
but i pitch sickly
and i suspect
the stranger girl is also no dawn spark either
not a morning person
Feb 24 · 465
s c u f f
neth jones Feb 24
unkempt drey
a winter white bone tree of lungy dew
grey squirrel in an urban way
curious for shelter
checks out the drey
      and scuffs about
      but the scruffy drey
      falls into its pieces
     (in spring to decay)
the creature is left
      grappling for a purchase
      and a posture of dignity
Feb 24 · 197
f u m i g a t e
neth jones Feb 24
fumb­ling my entrance               array                                      
passionately late            i pull off my tie          
               and crashing      here without apology
                 all-ready     a crowd sweated room
                                  low ceiling   candy glass munching underfoot          
the senses are rushed upon   fuming                                          
                ­          lit up and strobing    with the chaotic humour                
                                     and tumorous smells
furious ingestion                                            
     swellings       and releases    
  pelling and girling     with the dances         
hectic music    making hero's of uz all
a steaming sot lady  lands before me laughing
        she climbs me  till her bare feet find ground
      naked   from the waist up  
her dress has fallen  into a trampled magpie tail      
         doughy  features unfocused
    my heart is gurning with ruckus      
                installed with an addicts engine      
   it caves and puffs for attention
   these are my people  
these are my people                                                
                                now that they're reached their peak
of ******* inebriation          
     and raving chorus
i am drawn imediate     into the density
Feb 15 · 272
00011 01
neth jones Feb 15
motionless Winter chill
crystal dry and vacuous
life thrives minuscule
busy in me ******
neth jones Feb 11
a robust                                                                              ­                       
and spooring spirit                                                     
                                    ­    walks our dreams of slander
commands an overview                                                    
                                       as we correct in our slumber

if death                          this death ?

then bed       we'll watch-ed be

in comfort     and malleable

cycled  blessfully
Feb 8 · 480
neth jones Feb 8

the boy is explained in the dark
                  made smaller and tighter than his thirteen years
        invented a-tread each direful night ;
            in place of restfulness
                   he is tussled :

itchy within                                    
moans of a growth owning pain
domestic air is newly surrogate
the boy flees upstairs
the condition of the home is sickly
             excreted beads from the fibres
a pale mix is gland
                        a perspiration out of sorts
            then a wing-ed light smog

keeping to his room                            
he sits on his bed to 'wait it out'
the sun downs                        
as fruited ideas                
                   treacle up the pine wood walls
as otherworld tones        
                             flute the flumes that plumb the walls
as his mother clears the dishes
        with the radio on
as the fathers increasing tardiness
        makes the wound hour leaden further

wind starts churning up the monster
hustling the coniferous trees
stoking the forrest for its brazen voice
jeeving hard upon the house
dry *******
inducing a perverse osmosis
          pressurized audibility is clayed
hairs on the carpet tick static
              ....  this negative duress

the moon hides its legend            
an autumn owl takes the bough
     just above the boys window
    it hunches into its ruffle
       retches up a pellet of prey
fur and crushed bone
            clatters dryly into the gutter

the boy works his jaw
       relieving his popping ears
the rooms climate becomes sparky
important items radiate auras :
             the scorpion in formaldehyde
stolen from school
                          grandmas mourning ring on a string
                suspended above his desk
        an old key discovered in  the woods

a brief hole in sound
a slim bik of light traverses
  over the boy
    the bed
       and out into the hallway
it winks gone
     and sips of smoke
like lithe neat scraps of silk
start livening the corners of vision

he stands                                                      
open­s his closest and dresses for sleep
      yield to routine

Mother enters                              
    always a human breath                  
                                         of pre decay warmth
      here to make him into his bed
bound by her neat practiced tucks
                         the boy receives her loving words
                                  but she's in a separated world from his
distortion gums up the audibility          
he attends to lips
the blessings don't function right
mistress smudges are left in the air            
they trail from the corners of her mouth
                             with the expressive turns of her head

fending lightly from the room
she blows a kiss at the doorway
it punches a little galaxy swirl
                              and suspends
a heated blue weave of the hand
                    and she is gone

door concluded and the light left on
the wall flower patterns crick and shale loose
    they cash into the flooring
and in turn the floorboards palpitate finely
feathering into a unreliable state

less than a minute later ...                   
fathers presence                              
   makes an apologetic attempt
                                                     at a ghost-walk
sounds clumbered in an aquarium                
    he slides his back down the drunken partition
and talks
   he sells a story of personal wretchedness
some lesson is vague
the boy takes the readings                  
                  of the distant vocal squall
pauses in the erratic speech weather expect replies  
     but the boy fears this colonized version of the father

though anger
                        father does not enter
rumbles his fists, feet              
                 and frustration at the wall
      and­ punches his footfalls
                  to the master bedroom

the parents
together now closeted
their world fidgets fiercely and swells          
swaddled in their own dramatics
firing blindly                        
their voices
travel the pipes in the walls
back to the boys room
                drowned of discourse
but not the aggressive 'passion' flaring out
they plunder the boys ears

Sudden ! ;                
                  brakked smell of flint
a bird slams the window dead        
crack in the pressure
unbearable penetrating release
screaming the boy host violent
minds that bind are loosened
subpoenaed                                              ­
          the boy recoils and fends this raid
kicks off the bedding
strips free of his pyjamas
a thick layer of his own goes with it
fleecing his actual skin                        
raw stinging exposure
he tugs at the flay of his own rubbery peel
enough layers of dermis in one
grip and pull
to make real hurt
raw of pain
(it feels)
and pull
sleeves off of limbs
and a sappy caul from his bonce
he doffs the leather onto the floor
fresh wash of song
fierce waves of signals hot and cool
he ***** up his matty sheered hide
"**** it !"
pulls up the window enough
an outward 'gush' as the pressure balances
the boy                        
      push the viscid pelt out
the boy expels
disgorged into the night

                                              - consummated
Jan 18 · 228
neth jones Jan 18
unspared during my travels
prepared by an exchanging world
                              of appearances
i came to this place
at the base of
            a hill of course fell
    a whipped traveller i am
by the vital Spring weather
            i am met
welcomed a night of shelter
led the way by a lace of monks
     i am put up
     bowed into an alcove
     and left be

sun settles gloaming
bleeding out into the night
the night moves on
it plays on my solitude

a temple of awakening
freed from need of sleep
plush in the gloom
     of this unfamiliar lodge
pulses lune from the lamp
calling me to something family


peculiar flares of incense
my heart at pace
gusted by the lungs
gushed with a nourishing charge
      of remedy

i stand lightly
i take a stroll


subtle bells
quake little tings
under a propelled circulation
engine utters
quivering the air

Sudden :
it buckles
yawn out from under a gallows
the spaces between the temple walls
drop away
fathomless theatre opens maw
barriers have dissipated


i am a mite short of distress
in keeping shallow
maintaining a sensible program
i give out breath hesitant...
     and gratefully retrieve

i stand weakly
with care
this is temple
me, a guest
my travellers bed roll remains stowed :
i am a fool to be swallowed

a courtyard
compounds this pressed element of nature
i reached its edge
this building acts the amplifier
a spiritual device of development

bade by hemorrhaging darkness
i wade beyond any lamplight
each step taken when the tide pulls it
mottled perfumes now exhaust in punches
                          (powering from the baying boundaries)
look up
a royalty floods across the night sky
                          cropped by the yard rooves

chants and bells eddy about my ears
pants and tones mediate
worship hounds the clock

i finally do what is best
follow myself back the way

i make up my bed

(retire or
as a shade
i'll find my way between the walls
and flourish)


i regain valued humor
i concentrate
close eyes and slow my heart once again
make peace in this temple of strobe

tomorrow i'll face agricultural land
and the sunlight
i'll continue my selfish travels
bedroll bound to my pack
my pack tight to my back

i shall weep and honour the departed
as i continue
this little i have learned
neth jones Jan 2
deviancies body my perspective
mangy deceit by perception
whim the world an alibi
blue of a threading
jest passing true
mastering a
Dec 2021 · 1.2k
t i n t
neth jones Dec 2021
a heartness of light displays ;
in initial tinting
   the morning
dunked in the thirst
         from the passing night

the fight we experience
   in darkness seems

once exposed
wincing in the maturing sunlight
     a wedded weight is removed
[a heartness of light
scattershot through my peel
there was the warren of night
there was my overactive medicine whorl
then the cold roam of it
barely shared
seems so shallow
no-man and wide
lifted ; i part from darkness
the merciful hint of the morning]

[a heartness of light
beads the mongrel nature
of the sweating jungle
beds the bleeding
of clever trade
and foreign warfare
new growth
will always gloat over]
Dec 2021 · 300
neth jones Dec 2021
abused aromas
fuse the dwelling
throats slacken and tighten
good cooking can make a home
a rooted clut of tallow

         sweaty home
ignite another cigarette
scrape a fingernail on the sofa
a white grippy trail
scrunch your toes in the deep greasy carpet
and salivate on the wender of smoke
from the cooking of the roast
neth jones Dec 2021
You suit my ruin
fellow me and we'll each please the other
scuffing lovers
we'll sputter and prune
Dec 2021 · 489
neth jones Dec 2021
a semi seasonal species
we are subject —
— but many play out the Winter
with long work hours
and pricy imported foods
Nov 2021 · 938
neth jones Nov 2021
vented clouds
form a mackerel skin sky
implanted chill
fills out
from a marrow ache
to the human exterior

i walk under the sky
porous to it all
connected by the cold
Nov 2021 · 396
gyroscopic eye-soar
neth jones Nov 2021

i pull on the day brightly
mine it at the maternal sources
        and form a radiant :                    
               a bloom from within fledgling elements

illuminant grenades                          
             and the sky is peppered with characters
it's a wild play of childness              
an old world whimsy        
of 'here be monsters'    
            and shiny scrapbook havoc

the compass steps in              
       and with the turn of the globe
                          scores the horizon
clouds and the aviators          
         are combed into the soft crust
     a spiral quilting                          
       to cover the gift of a dream
      given by one thirsty visitor
   who stole it lightly
     from the prism
   of another travelling dreamer

God knows what'll grow
        if there's a pillow fight
a deranged rain of innovation
perhaps some fiddly creation
will fast take over this world
         and it's lover other

with the sky allied and fraudulent
we can host an early night
the stars (in strand)
prattle the ocular sense frontier
all constellations are like a single ribbon eel
never quite nourishing
             upon its own thoughtless loop

a corduroy display
Nov 2021 · 269
neth jones Nov 2021
our species is long ploughed over
whittling wind and byproduct mass
war wounds on the landscape proved fertile
other parts
we made long term barren

high above our remains
a creature that calls the homing pigeon its ancestor
and an ancient self maintained drone
continue a long standing feud
neth jones Nov 2021
wung, hung and then strung        
       plundered from my carrion ways
even in this undignified                
and ***** display      
i'll make a handsome portrait
competition piece... first & only version. brackets by title added after.
painting description : a Corvus bird. dead. hanging by one claw by a piece of string. indoors. simple white room. antique rifle propped against the wall
Nov 2021 · 736
neth jones Nov 2021

     the sun rungs fears
     pusher of its inquiry
     ringer in of chore
     and civil obligation

dissolving this days events              
jonesing for the eve                           
    when poaching the social solution
will bait me into the night snare
neth jones Nov 2021
how much time left do I
apply my mined
knot kneaded
Nov 2021 · 528
a cultivation
neth jones Nov 2021
is it love
or the parasite ?

my pilot bulk                      
aims for relief
       it pursues this via                  
          your romantic correction

in public arena                  
a library stair                    
(i never prior encountered you)

one step as foreigner        
the approach
and upon a swift internal pendulum
i make witless incisions
hurried mended sentences
directed stuns
i demand the compromise
                  of your company
hastily push at boundaries and
you're not so accommodating

on a further occasion
same building
we exchange a battering of conversation
           into barter-like use of language

despite my harassments
  a civil cultivation is unearthed
tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen
loosen my demanding appearance
disregard my dignity
     a skin suit about the ankles

you're open in a vein of similarity
   you flesh out your own controls
we've progressed quickly
there's an aped conduct
                 and flashing attitudes
this time we share table space
a nearby café

we have become quite unmanned
    repeated meet ups
upon humours we adjust small habits
    and shake on perceptions where we overlap
it becomes
   more an overlay of rationalities
        than resented promises

fast time passes and

i move into your living space                                  
i pick a wildflower                                                    
               and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table
we agree on its colour                                              
we agree on a book to make our bible material
we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share
the clothes i am to wear
i switch to your diet
and you cease taking medications
we sleep on your lawn like children
and bring down the night sky for comfort

during the day we wear our sleep
              like a lubrication for our chores
and go about our productivity
              in genuine partnership
i feel we're just out of reach
            of some dark harm

we are an excellent sample pair
it is all vital
we grow stronger the more we quiz it
recycling our *******
refine our agreements
await further impulses
and come closer to plug

do we please love
      or simply indulge a parasite ?
Nov 2021 · 269
neth jones Nov 2021
cloth-ed as clown                               
a spilt generation                        
within our moral delirium
                       who would care-claim us now  ?

paint your scrutiny
with our baffling strife of operations
as we lather up and ****** social
in the slaggy loft of our hive
plug uz from our heated terrarium
let's be proper met
examined with manner :
our morbid request

let us claim
something that is not yours
that we might budge on a generation
of spatty breeding
Extended from missing verse of 'Blemishes'
Nov 2021 · 576
neth jones Nov 2021
They recklessly mowed the grass everywhere
Cropped the lot !
(The city council landscapers)
  No verge
        park or public plot
             is left any freedom
                   in its fertility


With no places remaining
          no long radiating grasses
                 for quality summer fornication
retreats must be made instead
                  to the usual abandoned properties
                             and construction sites

Giddy romantic tangles are given over
in their place
rutting animals
quick shameful *****
                     graffiti tagged
                               ***** soaked
                            damaged concrete
                      exposed hazardous detritus
                 damp, rust, broken glass and mutty
Absent are the breeding meadows of the gods
this year is no span of leisure
this year is smutted
mid summer
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