combed cotton clouds
a light wind tackles
withering humidity

rolled over in dreams
            by victorious crocodile
lulled into baffled breath
            to be fed into life
a wake
fresh out of death

wrangled in bedsheets
            i fit back to sleep
a saturated berth
storage
  to become a softer meat
drown side up
             in a ***** swollen river

       - 04:21 a.m.

moment met
awful mounts familiar
an umbilical knell
wrench away
             from any flare up of communication
                                 any trail that could form
                                                 saliva stretched
                                     from our shared space
                                                            and span


away
before a diseased gut rebinds us

I have a fever dream

Blank skin
Blank skin, only a single layer thin
damply wrinkles and pocked puckers ;
I’m a delicate blister waterbed mattress
No rest when I set my head

The pain is a receiver in this dream

I feel I’ve a full body wound
The surface skim is a single reading of pain
Any contact pulls the pain to that site
A sudden breeze alone
would do the trick

The dream expresses vulnerability

One nick
One puncture on the opaque membrane
And my innards would flood out
I slip perilously on the tile floor
My printless feet wipe from under me and /

Woken up
burning fever
but go back to sleep
In urgency I must..

Form porousness
Found layers
Cultivate hairs
Bead natural oils
Reclaim my fingerprints
And get a grip
All this before I fully awake
I don’t want to suffer this state in the real world

A Chattered Weeping
Tropic heat
    there hangs a grief
      Clung !

Like a cold wet shower curtain
      inhaled by an open window
   suctioned
         mildew mischievous
                against the skin

But this grief ..
       a replenishing ache
      (now scolded from rank)
    and no longer
heaving and hopeless suffocation

duration has operated

INT - JULIAS' HOUSE - THE BLANK ROOM - AUTUMN EVENING

Pick teeth in maw
shuttering ;
I imagine you
Minotaur

You mail me voices
you unmend each night
I clothe the window
but you are brighter
you fill

I replenished your alter
re-burdened the sill
new meats from the Butcher
it's quite an arrangement
for a carnival such as yourself

A fortunes soil of gutting
it's the best I'm willing to offer
a meal
a wealth
so here it is
a tilt to your health
I back out of the room
I close the light
blackout
                                                  ­         CUT TO :

ANOTHER DAY - WORLD AT PLIGHT

I dress up my morning
and enter the room
a tiding,
a horror,
a vacuum !

You have scatted and cast
and made gore of my gift ;
made rent and wipings of the curtains
made leavings off of an ill stomach

What can I give you ?
how much more ?
how may I appease you
my Minotaur ?

Reliving and Preliving
may all my signals ghost to sway
Just falter information
i shall be spirited and a weather
A clamour among all my houses
an assault laid upon my understanding
Tired
in knots
combing out the fantastic
a floss upon a sea
and not a wound
; Misplaced I shall better be.

and then I breathe
this is no longer to be
I am in practice
; unfooled to better be

I feel examined
By cautious meats
With wet soft teeth
I've earned an energys' attention
I'm being fumbled with and considered
Perhaps I am to be
A tester of new waters
On lifes' behalf ?

one more crime against nature
and we’ll scuttle her completely

we’ll prove,
beyond any song
beyond a doubt
that we do not belong :

we are our own thing
and we shall brutally remove ourselves
from “the plan”

A thoughtless thought ;
a power-naught
a thought not taught
yet
still
a thought ;
toughly bred
and thorough wrought

be wary always
of my ever waiting
romantic depression

it crouches always
in the spaces between
the walls of my study
observing my progress
with a welling of loss

undiagnosed thought spreads
               - species -
                             from within my form
an eccentric  newcomer
newbarer
a giddy little mammal
pelting the walls of its enclosure
unphased and joyful
a ceaseless battering
a pinball of mental energy
and disorientation

(against medical council)
                                  welcome !

induce derangement and heck
make me rife
i was boring
and ripe for defilement

new tainted me can take a chance
flinging experimental feces
a manner of preach
that'll able me
a cockpit in society

Self Sickening Species

Title
The Human Craving

The Gummy Decay
We Favour For Our Mortar

Our Truth-less
Mated
Clunny Actions

Sweet Tooth
We Solder On
Feening
Indulging Our Senses
Till Everything Is Flavourless

Are thieves ants ?
And are ants up on my pillow ?
Can't count all the trees
that villain up the wallpapers
Immurked
In silent non-light

A Percher weighs himself upon my chest
Fidgeting and hurting the spurring of my breath
I can't speak to he
Nor he to me
I've not made any friends here
I'm always the quiet one.

The tools of the drapes make-eye new fashion
I yawn in-breath the scenery
Til I'm replumbed a fear familiar
I've not taken note
And they'll be a cell toss in the sorrow light
And stern disused adults
With their 'on clockwork troubles'

I turn in this muffle scape
I'm feverless and struggling
In the ample warm bright shade
Capsized in an umbrella
Of an altered canopy nest
Lovingly bed laid
And to the falling
And fawn the ceiling
Well in for teething
Water floats the basin
Town in for weening
The coast of new morning
I gorm to life
Jump started and fit fused

Let's discuss The Redpath...

It's a way of base-studded energies

It is an expression of pains
With brief relief and heavy repercussions

It has ,in mind, the idea of a powerful hunter
But creates, instead, a coward of heady minded ignorant opportunity

It feeds with an already full and greasy belly

It's a wealth of pleasure exceeding to become sickness

It discards friends and favours ugly company

It is extremity
It is ****** and criminal imagination stretched foul and giddy
It forsakes cloth less and honest art

It takes to the air but comes up biting

It rids horror
Only by taking the part of horrors drama until it bonds no more

It spacks you open
And spares you scrappy litter

It degrades you when it promised you bliss by annihilation
And sleep upon oblivion

There's just futility when you pound on the the remaining closed door with bratty fists of anguish

It's pollution ; a rotting expense
Don't play with The Redpath

                      - Coal bitter heart tar

The body dies :
A crumpling
not an implosion
as I turn inward
on my own corpse
In a desperate gasp
for sustenance and revival
The result ? :
A flourish!...
but, then, a puff
deflation
The Surround caves me
collects arrears upon my vehicle
I am to make no feast
the body is the process

life fends its ache in a solid state of lumber
stretches grouted brawn
and sets its stresses on duty

gaseous pollution meets the daylight
a warming flatulence of the productivity byproduct
labour

orb
parching an arc over the brow
and easing an erase into the eve

then to
the night solution
a fluid of festivity
*** excite in arts and the conduct
a canvas of tincture
to suspend our culture
                        in-bedded

the witching hour is only a blink
a jiff and a wink
a humour in the plasma state
break
the process is reignited
and for that brief movement
cleaned out of heads
we are simple
guided

arts great salivation
       teats nightly
acts the thistle
       at this little establishment

   collude here :

* fierce nourishment
* jester
* rumpus of competition
* ...much goad
  in a fester of seemly company

The world makes flights   white flakes of code
snow  like knowledge   alights on the ground
to become a muddy fusion

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

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

               **

         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

a catalyst in my nosebag
treks into a lung
the atlas of the sponge I inhabit
recognises the chore
but takes the spore in hand
when it should have humiliated it as the enemy
and talks to its information

a new and playful thought is born
a youthful rebel
passed into storage
but be prepared when there's trouble
there's a mutation stirring
and it's not fond of the authority

We've bin' in this graveyard
For many a year
So I cough
Politely
To sully the still
And I tender this query
To you're ever wilting ear
''Can you see through me now ?'

I don't understand violence
In the moment it does not come to hand
I do feel violence
I fantasise violence
I fever my brain with panting anger
But
It's a testing station within a fiction
My practices trace other patterns
And these aggressive thoughts are just obstacles
Yet
I pray host
And I know that
I truly am
A violent man

                                - Mr. Sands

old man scatters dry leaves
chasing a 'dame'
spying    i become a child

and then the churches
not a climbing peel
not the telling of bells
but an absense felt
a spirit skin hammering out the pressure
the clung tongues of worry
Babel Tolls

Fellowing
then following
and opposing this
A deprevision blow to the senses
a ballooning calm
A nature of electricity makes itself stage, tone
and is source of beacon
A strobe of invitation
past the the mid mark of night

draining life
seeding life
spill from life
and let your husk spoil
dust and the ether
your matter degrade
your scribe and ghost disperse

scatter your brain ;
your memory taught
nutrate the soil ;
the soil of what's to be
and learn a new form

in simple
return



© Jon Thenes 2011

life is ...
          strangled

much is laid out
          to shuck 'stragglers'
               and fetter the 'off kilter'

passive weeding ?
               or bleeding with medicinal leeches ?

there is a structure facing inward
people making unkind demands of one another
a fussing
a fusing of their time made 'important'
a holding bond
   alluring and repulsing
                  maintaining a close hovering gap
in the name of a darkly compromised species dream

-

[Note : i am flushed with heartbeats,
fast panic breaths
and thought.
i have overwhelming stream of ideas]



...it’s ridden through in our flooded veins

it’s furnishing our museums

  it’s marred out on parchment

     it’s mated together in privacy


      [Note : i tighten my eyes closed for relief]


     forbidden

      persecuted

     tried and executed

    preserved in wetland peat

   it can be called out

without the feed of the moon

without the woe of the ocean


 [Note : i clamp my hands over my ears]


senses

census

pleasured

genetically vetted

it can be rutted out

  falling **** through the generations

    the speed of the molecule

   or flitted across our grid electrically

    microscope

     magnet

     telescope

      prism

      morse distressed

     music

    pressed

   repressed

  and invested against

through historical text

it’s collected in your visage

and yawned back at you

  off of your morning mirror

   it’s in your needings

    your trolling of prayers and personalities

     and the breaking of your vocal jockery

    
     [Note : i dry gag and go silent]


     information is energy

    not erased

  but converted...

   ...and then nothingness

    an unwearable yelling void

     expanding pressure-less

      precipice

       rapid

     the immense feeling

    of feeling nothing

   the code/no-code

  the necessary ill behind the facade

of the purpose currency


[Note : my thoughts slow,
i note my breath
and my heart]