a stop is called
a cold drop to death
       and clothe my eyes   squint tight
then clear the screen     beam into another variant
a *******   (with a new approach)
broaching language
           ( the previous dud
         would never have dared ! )
caring less  with vicious rapping
reinvent the day  from the perspective
                                 of a new gimmy villain
**** to the experience and bite barking
            take two  you intolerable people
                                you intolerable world  
                             the intolerable harking
                                  of the intolerable day

humans sunbathing
spread like dying starfish
stranded drying
for the attention of tourists and vendors

the tide rises
the sunbathers retreat
to a controlled poolside setting

(#9a)

muscled through passage
birthed into his life
quick to the breath
wordless, you pass me your name
Nicholas wasn't on our list

(#9b)

muscled through passage
birthed into his life
quick to the breath
relieved, i release my worry :
promised beauty is fulfilled

(#1)
absent of mind
i fleece medical gloves
full disposal
thoughts on a trivia spree
refine a vacuous headspace


(#2)
Springs breed of Spider
crosses the bathroom mirror
breaks the barrier
daze over ; i ponder Warmth
i fumble to find it

(#14a)

autumn eve sun sinks
The lowest insect projects
long shadows
criminal fingers like yours
took lighter being from me

(#14b)

the reply

shade swells to dusk
a cloak for lovers 'crime'
give freely and take
balanced nature
listen to the night ferals

(#6)
Floods of relief
supplants the Thaw
bathed of pollution
i peacock my presence
fashioned for new company

(#5)
After the snows
landscape runs conjugal
Decay to Life
I yawn in gelid air
wake to the view

(#4)
man whales on a man
penalty out of law
a violence observed
i bare to get anger  
instead I view cold  

(#3)
courtly on my birthday
a candle forest of flame
blaze of age
marked memories
struggle for the trail ahead

"Although I try
to hold the single thought
of Buddha's teaching in my heart,
I cannot help but hear
the many crickets' voices calling as well."

                      by Izumi Shikibu


My Reply

The Buddha once heard
noisy Crickets at their play
received good teaching
did the crickets from the man
who practiced great stillness

"While I gaze upon it
I feel a certain distance:
The moon light
Makes its way to dwellings
Everywhere, I feel."

      by Ki no Tsurayuki


My Reply

Bright Issues the Moon
dusts the landscape with pale ash
illumination
slackens our taut customs
we're brought closer to our hearts

[Bonus Material. Earlier looser version :

When brighter the Moon
unknots our taught habits
spends our ideas
freely in its pale light
we act closer to our hearts]

(#7)
a dog night of heat
yet a clear scan of heavens
nourished universe
my mind untravels it all
sleep when I am depleted

(#8)
hot night
yet visible stars
busy creation
inspires thought
delays slumber

We treadmill experience
through the repetition of act
and retapping of memory

We loot from ourselves
trying to obtain
a moment absent from the self

We put essence to exhaustion
and wind ourselves ground

We have moulded a depression

Since WE have achieved this
surely
WE can muster an opposing goal ?

-

[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]

Suiside upon instruction
Through institution
By relation to another
And being bared upon
By your own misfiring soul

A shaky exit ;
Lonely
Or lonely, with company
Approach The Pig Empty
With a mind and not a rattle
; a pressure of Taughts

  in loving nothing
  glove oblivion
  a pardon from suffering ?
  a finite mime

       Signed   - a guest

You know you are wrong
when you bed me in our own litter
and The Feaster raises its head
to feed our relations with its attention
We persist
and you're having none of my boring objections
This bed has become a field
of mammal ply and spell craft
We sign out glyphs
in energies and positionings
In The Feasters eyes
we have meaning
we are positive
we glow for it
Feathers from air
we tap out
with a shared vocal hark

..in crash the mind ;
plan flown on
an excercise of oblivion
Criminal tide rising
to feel upon the doggy moon
When The Love has only known The Night Time
with little illumination
the revealed is a frightful thing ;
a Medicine and a Leviathan

Don’t let the medium dry
Moisten This Creation                                   
by ANY MEANS necessary

It’s vulnerable

For This Creation to become pedestal WE MUST :

feed it
off of a capillary bag

mist it
under a dense healthy breath

lead it
to suckle an engorged breast

For
IF WE DO NOT
we risk it becoming husk ;
good only for digs and dust shops.

For This Creation, WE MUST queue

with our blood tapped
and ready

our breeding fluids
our various flows carefully labelled
and in sterile pouches

our donor cards filled out
steady for sacrifice

Keep This Creation wet
and it shall be a beacon
a call to awareness
a beckon of craft for us all
and not some common art-hole
In time THE CREATION SHALL SERVE US

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

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
visuals
you create yourself
(but
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
integrate...

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

Even the Gum-Skulls
are playing
between the legs of the dancers
in this hall

Even the impaired are dancing
ever trusting
they could fall

The partnered are whoever
whoever
are who they please be

The hands are often wanderers
the wonderers drink their mead

The animals hide
under the table
til the time to take their bleed

Then
they're upon the table
accompanying the mead

beyond the sponge
and spoilings that form my bulk
meat heart beats
but it's not the boast of me
it has tree like dispassion

but then, conflict... 14th / Sept / 2020 / Elsons Crag

The Forest firs sway. The trees bend at the top like sea grass with the tide. Cloud movement strobes sun over this carpet. I view from a cliff.
It stirs rare warmth in my heart half

No !

React under attack. the heart throws up monsters and little stickmen waving spears. violent breathing and horrid garbage and gore and villainous words turned inward and folded and pounded and dough and hurt..

i've turned from the beauty and crouch in a revulsion of balance

this foreign glow cannot be simply experienced. to me, a warm heart is one in need of defence ...as is one in mourning

the clown of all creation
      mentors the room
anything goes
      in this 'pie in the face' meeting
somehow
      more productive than usual guff

who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
thought themselves of mythology ?
processed death into the dying **** ?
blunt   blackened hope
           buttering up what god ?
                                   what mischief maker ?
: Loki the crow with his promethean nose ?

covering his crooked actions
                          the defiling of a life
  murderer
  a coward of failed coupling
congress    a night down the pub
    the gender polar pair collided
            sottish upon their union
genitals bragging through urgent gaps in clothing
but that urgency deflated
it muttered away
he felt baited
and
  humiliated    
             he committed to ******

crude amateur throttling
  a ***** sogged brick  
an indiscreet botch up
    and a stolen wheelbarrow  
        to ferry her away

'The Mourning Tree'
           despondently sifts for nourishment
its gummy combs of branches
  sashing particles  from the night solution
the tree ; a cavity
too verrucose and fleshy to whittle the winds
                                               or fife a tune
a rubbery craggle     foreign against the landscape
should   rather   make out its' habits
                  off the floor of a deep sea trench

roughing in the corpse
head first   down the gullet thirstily
skirts up and claustro
between spread limbs
to ***** puckle in the hollow tree
evicting the bird of Minerva
      ‘whoing’ into the charged sky
  blooded over
             the night blackens further
               brooding on the event

who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
married themselves to a mythology ?
force fed life   engorged within deathly seed ?
upended crime     in lieu of a sacrifice
           he offered a glass of woman
               to oder the night
he strummed teasing fingers
      raked them humming
         through the heady resistance of the air
electric creeping warmth   over the skin
                        erecting the hairs
   museum silence
   an arena    as fraught equal    between magnets
       clouds cut the moon
      moon cut the eye
    sinful kiting to mend a link
ramblings kinked
he makes sparking incantations to the gods

one scatting madman
one corpse woman


that same bled night
where the furrowed fields
            meets natures disarray
children approach this woodland border             
children with empty baked bean tins
      that they joined with lengths of string
trying to reach out their ears
    extend their timid range
       to sprites, nymphs, pucks or faeries
an older kid strikes up a cigarette
one of the younger ones squats to ***
         and be mocked

one brave girl of ten years
  runs a tin and the line into the woods  
it jerks taunt after about thirty paces
she wedges it in a tree fork and runs back
the children crowd the receiver tin
spooking themselves
eavesdropping   
        upon the hollow wisdom of small gods
            that mask their shame in the dark

crazy foreign fare maybe you curdle defeat in the streets baring solar assault (you've fried your unit) harpy malicious harpies as bullhorns fact-fire biting into delirious fright-blight of abrasion upon your eardrums abstain (it's all an abusical !) refuse this parody the good night woe stains on your sleeves i belly believe you'll capture your death way out here at the merry least you'll pass a deathly coffin sneeze silly-silly breath breathe

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

..............there’s such a clamour
         so much choring
    memory thread
I sit
armchair
rocking head
receiver of motion
    bleaker of putty trauma
                creator of mammary craving

.....best take up knitting or wood carving

the fortress of thought
(in strict connivance with a bewildered host)
compiles the 'person idea'
protects the fragile calculator
               from biting at its own exposed
                  and useless self mating psychology
               from glutting on its own tail 
                   and merry going mad
                        in a tune of hoops...

..stammering to achieve valuation

for our decent management
projector
may you continue operations falser still
defeating our own polygraphs and making fools of our internal courtrooms

i sit on this chair
things go still
thoughts occur elsewhere
am i left to not be ?....................

A toxic flush of inhumanity
a brush of the Polute
mirror marred
collective vanity

A blush of Deathlessness
puffs us featureless
and in our drunkeness
we paw clumsy

Playing caress and mattress
in our distress
we commune suckling
give or break
chill post-wake
north or west
in ghosts we invest

familiar
there's no space like home
no company like a handmade family
no way of love like the handsome routine
  no elbow room like the familiar
a spell of life    til
     an itch takes to the brain
and inches of ***** tape spool
ideas of wetter play
     haemorrhage and pool
            and it's jostled

a heartness of light displays ;
in initial tinting
   the morning
        tipsy
dunked in the thirst
         from the passing night

unnecessary
the fight we experience
   in darkness seems

once exposed
wincing in the maturing sunlight
     a wedded weight is removed

i'd like to keep my feelings for you...
direct
but experience has told me oft
it ought be conducted otherwise

i am to understand that
expressions of feeling toward another
must contain Fluff and Padding
i am to understand
that when expressing romantic feeling
lies are expected

somehow
amongst this great dishonesty
i shall slip you the true code of my communication
relay that feeling
meshed into the fabrication

the falsehoods of the romance
can reveal honest belly
in the gelatine of the fiction

Quiet night
no folly food
Just solitude ;
a chill scares up the hairs on my bare arm

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 ?

i like you much-plenty
we're 'sitting in a tree'
i lift you touch-gently
(this confuses me greatly)
so i prise open your eyes
and i find you glass-empty
i find you with
no soul at all






© Jon Thenes 2005

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

now i am older
and with a told heart i listen

with some alone time
i could really steer