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neth jones Nov 2015
tar crack in his dry mack
perched on a bone tree
wishing for the vein leaves
then one day
a mention
thought
then revelation !
only a meal astray
a souls lost attention
red mess on the freeway
and it's pay dirt so easy







© Jon Thenes 2002
neth jones May 2020
my love is gone...
my love has gone next door
my love popped round
to perform frottage with the hedgerow
and lust after the new lawnmower


whilst i built 'The Good Life'
my heart got distracted
it grew a cavernous attraction to the neighbours
and their immaculate lawn

my love is licking their heavy curtains
chasing their well groomed dog
watching their home entertainment centre
and kipping on their sofa
(made comfortable with extra science)
my love has repelled from me
to ****** toward another life
a life neatly removed from a catalogue
and free of creative revolution
neth jones Oct 2016
A thoughtless thought ;
a power-naught
a thought not taught
yet
still
a thought ;
toughly bred
and thorough wrought
neth jones Sep 2022
distress men
distress women     the children follow suit
rooted        to their calculation
   pick-pitted-
                 minds-eye-
                             bore-hole n' punction
         functional ?   they ponder the fault   idling in their programs din

rescue them ?
their fearsome egos     will gum you up
tup and rupture your goodwill

despair man
despair woman    the children groping at their heels
sealed and merry mated     to the manner     spools that habit
rabbits and fools back into the boil

assess
make a meal
  displace them ?
   their otherworldly longings ?
    wrong them welcome      into your loving bloom

this is how its done
here's a catalogue
  how big you've won
   better gig    than landing on the moon

distrust man
deface woman       the children drink from the wound
battle         become the saviour
behaviour shot against the mood
food to greet     the newly batched    cultural result
faulty
worthy of mention
the soiled spell
         going to drown though the generations
recreation
just trust   the serpent eye
and the lens of peddling assault   holds everything to its station
                                    for a jittering moment
                                    for a breakable moment
                                          a disgraced monument    
                                bereft         fidgeting in its place
MARK - last verse
neth jones Dec 2023
the night cares                                                  
         and we are it's batteries
it licks us like a daring child                            
                 and the night avian raptors are tufted
  and their prey is energized              
  and the chase/escape scenario   is a burly-hurly
    flight night                                                  
and the trees push around the winds
and breath is the current of life        
and the furnaces tick down
and an unreal peeling                        
          of the church human bells
(calling the hour or the faithful to prayer)
 aids my constructive dreaming bleed
chimney awoke
the night licks me                                                  
                   like a daring child licking a battery
  but caring also                                      
                like a cat removing the amniotic sac
                 from it's newborn
neth jones Mar 24
i've bin wilting in the wings of half life
some kind of tinsel of decay
making chattering bids for attendance         but lack and fail                       
pimpling   and then deflating          
                                    
    tiny chasms visit me
chittering little wheezy ******* of creativity  spazzing                    
and then weary organisms spatter on the micro lens
gutted    they were shoddily made    they're to be  examined           
                   (after all that genetics..... what did go wrong ?)                              
a probing at discussion and decisions
tend    now     to a humiliating life                                                      
then  a step up   ; a weak and easy one                  
    followed by     ambition !         one to lift and give life
reactors in the gut with macerated heavings gunged our way
incisors and incisions rudder me
and  together with my nouveau umbrella family
betrayed from our hammocks, hummocks and  nooks
we queue on up   for 'the things'        
           in accord    with good society
self reprimanded   in defeat ?
neth jones Feb 2024
a troubled little wisp of waxy death   punches from my lips
(is it the exhaust   from many thriving microorganisms ?)
there it is   a clearly visible tiny cloud formation
(is this an indication?... the breaking down my over ripened form ?)
married also is its appearance  in the bathroom mirror
(confirmation that   it is no illusion)

i was quite casual about the event (thank you)
but not enough
              to stop me noting it here ;
call it   'the death weather report'
it shall be journaled further
i already feel observed
   as though by some bored student mortician
neth jones Nov 2022
the city's moon                                            
       fixated in its peoples tics and behaviour
                    crass and mentally fractured
traction acts
the loony satellite makes sway for rude construction          
                                          ­        padding our ego psychology
nothing    simple    allowed
we are all a manic reference of each other

the city weather is steered                              
       by currents of gossip
withhold your info
               culture clutches
misguiding alliances
    treasure your details                                              
                      it is your only insurance

this city                                            
it's a view to thrill                                              
            ­ but it odors me til ill
****** privacy and get undressed
too much time here   harbouring thirst      
quibbling hurt feelings                          
         signals ;  Life Emitting Distress

so                                                    
lock up the night city stars                                 
                 mar-glaring bulbs of pity-me
                          staring about for vagrancy
i flip up my hood             
lucent pandery eyes span the communal routes   
search us out       merchandise and mood
i turn down an alleyway
and am confronted
                                          a vain and voyeuristic fan tail
varieties cocktail of sales and entertainment
ad lights send out sonar 'pings'
wing-ed ; fencing judgement
i wear pricy contacts to veil my retinas
and my hood is lined with aluminium

     i cough and concentrate on breath
commemorate each step undertaken
weaponize my walk
eyes low
my being is voided into guise

heading further from the city centre
i can straighten from my defensive pose
in amongst the dwellings              
             the urban effect dwindles
kindled   instead   by the dosey soup wash of streetlights
delights;   the holy crop of them
webbing outward    retching past our boundaries          
              shored back upon natures breath                      
(so i imagine)
neth jones Sep 2019
in our very own room
all have fever.. privately
we feed it soft egg

we closet and build
create fabric, like insect
mouthwork, repurpose

outside of the home
dictated by company
we have shared madness

we tread the weather
we institutionalize
miss out on the world

societies pal
traitors to our piracy
mistrust our own mind

blinds drawn, in fierce study
apply to the retooling
head clay made better

the automaton
must bare some animation
unallied approach

wetter still and fit
your neutrons fend now and thrive
carry the tune outdoors ?
neth jones Oct 2024
.
you're at the front door                                    
you're in through the front door   my door 
  without knocking
face flushed with malice and ****** visions  
"uh-huh" i say
there's a cotten shopping bag                          
                    of who-fears-what   in one mitt
and you throw yourself                    
                   on my sunken couch
you unzip those mad pricy leather boots
with flames down the sides
and clutch your bag to your chest  
with meaning and taunt
        leaning toward
                  a smile  crocodiles your face
          your clock ; three forty seven
your mind ; immersed in some midnight woo
a witching verse and a fortune boastful and blue
am i to be involved in your clockwork mockery ?
(i have been your collaborator                          
              and coal mine canary in the past)
  do i even want to be invited ?
i don't know any better   i am  as always  excited
"alright, i'll bite .. what's in the bag ?" i say
neth jones Jul 2018
[Disclaimer : Collection edited from previous works for the purpose of competition.]

Notes during Jane’s night out
and its afterbathe.


Observe :

when your heart's beating overtime
you drool poison in your sleep
and you're looking down
on this wound of slaughter
simply turn your head
and repress the urge
for mischief
mirth
and laughter

Jane’s prayer of control


Observe :

Deathlessness 
becomes my Oedipus
Restlessness, my Vein
I spy from the Windows
upon the Exterior ;
It's Humid, Night and Rain
I pave my Thoughts ; 
all bark and froth
I Pound Drinks
It Powers tight my Bellows
I Hound the Clock
My energy thrives out a fan of nerves
I create an idea of what's soon to be
A plan of posable culture
forms flossy in my Tide
and
(as the Night Out steps up)
It Bites firm in my mind

I stride across the threshold
Betraying nothing
Of the Savage I've put together
Slough Suited in neat Disguise.


Observe :

Raw Meat and Red Teeth
I'm a Bow to the Moon
I Click over Cobbles
A Mad Energy
Bailed in my Stomach
I Task Myself
Open
And Daring Prey to Cross the Tension
Strung on my Senses
All Hot Gut and Wire
I'm Playing at Being
A Wild and Mean Thing
And I am Dedicated to this Wound.


Observe Others :

The exclusive clubbers present their cards of invite
And go swiftly about the social wetwork 
Their practices and manners 
Interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an inflammation of words
A baffle of tongue chorings 
There is an hour
There follow more
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
Then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.


Observe My Racing Brain :

Let’s put Sleep to Death
And purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
Bright
And quick lives could flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little lung for morals
And sorrows would be swift experiments
Let's make all lives what they really are
Put Sleep to Death
And be recognized
As blurs
As shots 
As stars and spittings
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity


Observe my Near Miss :

gunbeat
memory fleeing ;
murrums over soils
stresses and seas
desaturation
my colourless meat
mind down
hasty retreat
coma tones
my last retreat
failing the game
and foul on my feet

but then spoiled warmth floods back
my sponge reforms
damaged
but re-soaked
current again


Observe Hospital Stay :

Talisman
Brighter than a new spawned sage
Appears to me.
Abyss-less
It lisps of rest
And passes me its clay.
Obedient
I foster a dent
And begin to draw my feed.


Observe my learning :

take a breath
expel a myth
pattern a thought
create an action
reset and repetitude


Observe a Single Step :

This is a Me
(hands indicate body that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker

From The Other 
operations may be performed
Within this mix
a View dwells
this could be said
to be a Me

The Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did


Observing Spark Plug :

...and 'oh my God' did I cry
I sparked like I was made of knives
and it carried me
I was adopted
I was addressing reasoning
burying it fiercely and fare
pounding clay over it
and enhancing my surroundings
content
yet
without trust
re-start
welled and sad
sick excited
a primal plug 
connected
and this world had once seemed so borrowed, adolescent and unpracticed.
2019 competition version
a weathered brain              Jane’s night out

Observe my Control Prayer

when your heart's beating overtime
and you drool poison in your sleep
and you're looking down
on this wound of slaughter
simply turn your head
and repress the urge
for mischief
mirth
and laughter

Observe

Deathlessness 
becomes my Oedipus
Restlessness, my Vein
I spy from the Windows
upon the Exterior ;
It's Humid, Night and Rain
I pave my Thoughts ; 
all bark and froth
I Pound Drinks
It Powers tight my Bellows
I Hound the Clock
My energy thrives out a fan of nerves
I create an idea of what's soon to be
A plan of posable culture
forms flossy in my Tide
and
(as the Night Out steps up)
It Bites firm in my mind
I stride across the threshold
Betraying nothing
Of the Savage I've put together
Slough Suited in neat Disguise.

Raw Meat and Red Teeth
I'm a Bow to the Moon
I Click over Cobbles
A Mad Energy
Bailed in my Stomach
I Task Myself
Open
And Daring Prey
To Cross the Tension
Strung on my Senses
All Hot Gut and Wire
I'm Playing at Being
A Wild and Mean Thing
And I am Dedicated to this Wound.

Observing Others Socially

Any platter but this sick heat beating sink of interbeing
With its ******* music and rapid lighting
Exclusive clubbers present their cards of invite
Go swiftly about the social wetwork 
Their manners interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an inflammation of words
A baffle of tongues choring
There is an hour
There follow more
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
Then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.

Observe Racing Brain

Put Sleep to Death
And purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
Bright
And quick lives flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little lung for morals
And sorrows would be swift experiments
Let's make all lives what they really are
Put Sleep to Death
And be recognized
As blurs
Shots 
As stars and spittings
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity

Observe Overdose  

gunbeat
memory fleeing ;
murrums over soils
stresses and seas
desaturation
my colourless meat
mind down
hasty retreat
coma tones
my last retreat
failing the game
foul on my feet

but then spoiled warmth floods back
my sponge reforms
damaged
but re-soaked
current again

Observe Hospital

Talisman
Brighter than
A new spawned sage
Appears to me.

Abyss-less
It lisps of rest
And passes me its clay.

Obedient
I foster a dent
And begin to draw my feed.

Observe Lesson

take a breath
expel a myth
pattern a thought
create an action
reset
repeat

Observe Step

This is a Me
(hands indicate body
that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker

From The Other 
operations may be performed
Within this mix
View dwells
this could be said
to be a Me

Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did

Observing Spark Plug

...and 'oh my God' did I cry
I sparked like I was made of knives
and it carried me
I was adopted
I was addressing reasoning
burying it fiercely and fare
pounding clay over it
and enhancing my surroundings
content
yet
without trust
re-start
welled and sad
sick excited
a primal plug 
connected
and this world had once seemed so borrowed, adolescent and unpracticed

I throw up.






a weathered brain

Jane’s night out




Observe my Control Prayer

when your heart's beating overtime
and you drool poison in your sleep
and you're looking down
on this wound of slaughter
simply turn your head
and repress the urge
for mischief
mirth
and laughter





Observe

Deathlessness 
becomes my Oedipus
Restlessness, my Vein
I spy from the Windows
upon the Exterior ;
It's Humid, Night and Rain
I pave my Thoughts ; 
all bark and froth
I Pound Drinks
It Powers tight my Bellows
I Hound the Clock
My energy thrives out a fan of nerves
I create an idea of what's soon to be
A plan of posable culture
forms flossy in my Tide
and
(as the Night Out steps up)
It Bites firm in my mind

I stride across the threshold
Betraying nothing
Of the Savage I've put together
Slough Suited in neat Disguise.

Raw Meat and Red Teeth
I'm a Bow to the Moon
I Click over Cobbles
A Mad Energy
Bailed in my Stomach
I Task Myself
Open
And Daring Prey
To Cross the Tension
Strung on my Senses
All Hot Gut and Wire
I'm Playing at Being
A Wild and Mean Thing
And I am Dedicated to this Wound.




Observing Others Socially

Any platter but this sick heat beating sink of interbeing
With its ******* music and rapid lighting
Exclusive clubbers present their cards of invite
Go swiftly about the social wetwork 
Their manners interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an inflammation of words
A baffle of tongues choring
There is an hour
There follow more
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
Then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.








Observe Racing Brain

Put Sleep to Death
And purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
Bright
And quick lives flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little lung for morals
And sorrows would be swift experiments
Let's make all lives what they really are
Put Sleep to Death
And be recognized
As blurs
Shots 
As stars and spittings
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity




Observe Overdose  

gunbeat
memory fleeing ;
murrums over soils
stresses and seas
desaturation
my colourless meat
mind down
hasty retreat
coma tones
my last retreat
failing the game
foul on my feet

but then spoiled warmth floods back
my sponge reforms
damaged
but re-soaked
current again



Observe Hospital

Talisman
Brighter than
A new spawned sage
Appears to me.

Abyss-less
It lisps of rest
And passes me its clay.

Obedient
I foster a dent
And begin to draw my feed.




Observe Lesson

take a breath
expel a myth
pattern a thought
create an action
reset
repeat


















Observe Step

This is a Me
(hands indicate body
that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker

From The Other 
operations may be performed
Within this mix
View dwells
this could be said
to be a Me

Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did




Observing Spark Plug

...and 'oh my God' did I cry
I sparked like I was made of knives
and it carried me
I was adopted
I was addressing reasoning
burying it fiercely and fare
pounding clay over it
and enhancing my surroundings
content
yet
without trust
re-start
welled and sad
sick excited
a primal plug 
connected
and this world had once seemed so borrowed, adolescent and unpracticed

I throw up.
neth jones Mar 2024
my       teeth       hurt          in       Winter
the   beginning   of   Winter     for   sure
a                      fantastic                     ache
even           when      the      wind      sits

even             the       cleanest       breaths
          draw       hard          on       my       chest
but my heart still draws on the beauty
invites   stillness       to   meet   stillness
from previous winters attendance
neth jones Apr 2019
Best off known
Make ‘art world’ of my damage
Prepare to go mammary

Prattle my way into important company
Display something intimidating
And put in my stake
My patchwork for paternity
neth jones Mar 2019
Such a privilege to walk amongst this destruction
to tread lightly through these fires
and see the light that comes between
the struggles of the itching dying
to bathe with this
and rub my naked self against the charred trees
and sample the taste of fatty ashes in warmed air

All cries reach a pitch
that hot soaks the inner ear
Smiles all around
Gapping land spills over
and over and over

I'll bury myself here
in the burning earth
equipped with a hollow reed
to reach the wonders above
and sleep.
Written approx 15yrs ago
neth jones Mar 2021
I discharge ;
   a laugh without kindle
(not from the origin of tune
         and mastication)  
from an orifice of wound

a hack of mushroomy dry fleck :
the taste touches the back of the airways
  and takes to the brain in an ail

    ideas slurry
my actions blur
I fumble about my living space
my balance
        pained ears
fall to floor
      an ug at the back my throat
I laugh from all fours
    vision reddens
unhinged at the jaw
      my neck
shoulder muscles punting
my logged and leaden head lolling
   a laugh of hurt
a ******* of saliva
        detonates on the carpet
is there blood in that  ?
sickness on the verge
                 of being brutally provided

"So dramatic !"
my wife passes me a glass of fruit juice
                             and an aspirin
         preventing the transformation
                a gentle chiding
original version ....

[a laugh without kindle
from a wound not an orifice
a mastication of ills and soothes
a not quite mushroom smell
pained ears
an ug at the back of the throat]
walking down the street                            
the winters day folded              
              settled snow awaiting damage
waking  as the morning fumbles with city residents
                                    and caravans of cars bumble                        
               unused to the tumble and witty wade of it all

my view is unveiled and hearted
simple vision  in fellow with the other senses
but IT'S THEN ! and then (aftershock )    something was altered
something in perception  was marched astray and put to sacrifice
just a tick off from the uncanny flank of lucid
                         and i know something's not right
my readings rank as nudged
       someone wishes me 'off the case'
what did my senses experience
       that could've been entered into evidence ?
i stop in the street and stoop my bags into the drift
why was my report changed                
       so skillfully between the source
                                            and my intake ?
just a single moment    a blur and a splice snip
what was i not meant to observe ?
was the rug pulled out from under it all
even if for only a spilt second ?
did i witness the goings on behind the scenes ?
the agents of governing wealthy illusion at work ?
adjusting the set ?  correcting an effect ?
wizarding our fantastic lives
the grand fabrication
...or perhaps  simply a feeling
neth jones May 2020
i went looking for you tonite
           in some daring fit of vision
i sought after you in my own flesh
i stared through the screen for you
i near blinded myself in a streetlight

i took on a fierce drinking session
                                      - a pounding of the bellows -
                                   i fought for you in the fire fight
and in a blight of fists
        i fought amongst barbarian company...

trench

                          ...though i thought i'd dredged my fill
                   i was shy by many-many shards
            and   one
                    big 
                  aching 
                 glory
                           and still... no you

i stumble

a drenching
i got dazed and a bit ****** up
with sick up in my gory hands
my mates look foreign at me
and i can't  get them words

my friends will not be moulded to assist
treacherous
they are leaving me behind

you are demonstration, demon and a cost
you wear a fancy shiny sleeve
     flirty
i love you
leisured up
                 you lure
                drunken ravage
fierce hole
        take some finance
i earned it *****
CONTAMINANT !

.......this is not you
    you're not here
(i am adamant)

on a mission
i pummel on the veils
in a fusion i rose the dead for a consult
but they fumbled 'bout awkward
much confusion
they picked at their seems
avoided eye contact
mumbled
probably wanted brains
or replacement parts :
a useless summoning

looking for you
i am well travelled
time and space and different versions of stuff
it's been spectacular
i've seen the bulk and can make a bigger picture
this odd fella laughed and gave me some kind of herb
i'm massive
i'm quite mad
in my lunacy I'll hunt you down
moon n' sea
gather you
a study
ungut beauty
splay ; enforce you a spread of wings
  pin
    display
      and examine
I'll be utter with your subject
be thorough with your data
because I'll never be forgiven
thieving away
the god from beauty....
and...
...and...

and i'm sure your just round the corner
a collision in the scriptures
and we'll merge

I'll make the night
      livid mural
stars and crashes
         flee out into the night
jabber
now it is milk
and i am tourist
in my own hand
thought fails fluid
spill
detested
demolition
upheaval
neth jones Jul 2022
wolf ,
         can you land meat ?
            or are busy being needlessly cruel to 'lesser' peers ?
could you even take a basic stalk about the woods ?
            or would you be blistered
               breaking in those brand new pricy walking boots ?
a full moon ?
   maybe you'd drink to excess on those nights ?
   maybe pick a fight or beat on your loved ones
                                   but whimper the next day ?

that smart suit ?
ridiculous over your fur
heard you're on a trendy fad diet
you fidget at your desk
you fidget on your screen
work is obscenely wasteful
distractions are just plain obscene
you are a coward to your soul
soiled by domestic inactivity
neth jones Apr 14
a high mood                                          
could skip along like a child
a practical joke      i give a sharp pull
         on the strings of Everything
jape's on me                                          
         as i am tugged from off of my feet
           and tumbled on the ground
         laughing any-which-way

the day sky   fills with lenses          
                    enough to displace the stars
but there too much for them to see
efforts made mockable
the pattern baffling the pattern
with misunderstood importance

release      and i enjoy the sun
                 for being the sun
from  04/23 ?
neth jones Apr 2020
seabirds in flight
skilling and guttering
offence the wind
neth jones Jun 2023
leisure up my friend !
   weaken open your shellfish hinge
       and wet your beak
it’s a marked holiday break
   unmarred by family obligation
there’s freedom
   to make the most criminal crown of mistakes
   in the name
         of some frown of liberal investigation

on the town
an eager squad of collaborators are on board
     they have your back
desperate, sick and starving gulls
     broadened to explore the deplorable
on and on to the next and the next
     death defining task

a meandering stagger of a bar crawl
  perpetually   powering through
     as the day spans a revulsion
the heat stays as the day sinks beneath
in place of the suns rays
the heat radiates
        from the baked city concrete
  
stepping out from the shelter of the bar
  the night swelter respires fiercely
not done with our steam of annihilation
  what establishment would take our kind ?
city has already bowed over it's plumage
                                 to our ******* pilgrimage
bark melts and peels in strips off the trees
        (meat shaved off the strip pole)
our heels spark the pavement
vermin and jackals follow our movement
             from shimmering dark spots
             and our vision constricts

our aim   has become clotted...
      ...what was it that we reached for ?
oblivions fruit seemed a doable pursuit

it's the usual downhill shambles from here
familiar yet barely remembered
a rambling guff of bad ***** comedy
there is no plucky legend
just an embarrassment
neth jones Dec 2021
You suit my ruin
fellow me and we'll each please the other
scuffing lovers
we'll sputter and prune
neth jones Sep 2020
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.
neth jones Oct 2017
Ladies & Gentlemen !
[a long pause]
We have orifices with which to communicate.
[laughter ; some uncomfortable]
Let us barrier the doors
(a fence to ours enemies)
and use our God-given equipment
to relate and touch ;
[pause]
flinches reducing to ease and practice
creating warmth
[long pause with mixed mumbling]
Let us be indifferent
with occasion
to the shortcomings outside of these rooms
[pause]
Our performance shall be ;
open tellings
unguarded and romantic ***
a friction of pleasure
a digestion
an elegance of respiration
fully processing one another
without shame
[speaking louder over the audience]
and casting aside shambles
In its place ; a smooth art
[pause]
and not a stain.
neth jones Jun 2019
i am a lie
when i am with you

a faceting deceit

i fidget to achieve vital moments apart from you
when i perform bursts ;

acts of
what it could be to be me

like
little dishonesties

flourishes of free time

i’d indulge in fierce meals out
drinks
loud music with offensive lyrics

and then
back in time to greet you

remeet your arguments
and self central needless deeds
and the viperous structural shakedowns
of your violent
flailing personality

will either of us
stalk free of this numb feast of ugly energy ?

when i go to bed at night
i take to the edge
furthest from you
and kip like a dud

my creative force is in holding

i suffer a duration
whilst we struggle
to maintain
the whole world
according to the way you persist

according to your law
neth jones Aug 2019
what brightened the horizon

frightens you in the trenches

just a curl

untrained

soldier toy

clotted in company

awaiting an enemy
See also ‘Tupperware ‘
neth jones Sep 2021
with flutter faint
          feather a heart
gill wafting of light emotion

demoted
but carried
in a subtle world
  where muted decisions build
here accumulates a coral
                 a tested wisdom
neth jones Jan 2019
"It suffers ;
  Not ; I suffer"
this being realised ;
exercise detachment
operate using a buffer :
A Curtain Option
Is What's Being Discussed
neth jones Mar 2019
a miser of my emotional states
a cling
and an unweanable
unwilling to partake in city
I quake no single acquaintance
and murmur no note upon any group

i have made some pacts
to recover into view
so i might impress as a fellow being
i have begun a series of self applied techniques
that ought mimic
and form an impression at you
neth jones Aug 2019
03:15 a.m.

The Crowd Steamy Cloud

Violently Unsilent Noct

Expelled from party tomb
neth jones May 2021
scentless winter over
snow melts            
evacuates into the soil                                      

-under Springs attention-

our strained eyes are relieved                          
       with the dismissal
                                              of the reflective precipitation

Springs arrival elevates mood      
        alleviates the heart halved by Winter

'thirsty things firstly' ;
from the groundswell and sponge
the air is steeped with earth

decay to life
INCLUDES LINES PREVIOUSLY USED IN OTHER WORK OF MINE

alt version

melting winter evacuates into the earth
a swelling sponge
thirsty things firstly
saturation of decay
brings earth to our dry nostrils
our aching eyes are relieved of the reflective snow
as it is fully dismissed by springtime
neth jones Jan 2022
deviancies body my perspective
mangy deceit by perception
whim the world an alibi
blue of a threading
jest passing true
mastering a
gimmick
nipped
needle
thru
eye
!
:
.
neth jones Dec 2019
occupy my heart
whilst i carry my corpse
to the battlefield

i shall employ the body
there-where it is in so much demand ;
attending 'the great defeat'
uniform

on my return
i am dependant
upon a working heart
a rhythm of life to come back to
anthem

(i can be monster abroad
and earn the life that i left behind)

sign here
moat
don't be unkind
occupy my heart
so i don't carry it places
it does not belong
neth jones Mar 2022
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
neth jones Oct 2020
(#17)

my footfalls concuss
the ground beneath my boots
a human walk
any beasties that can flee
are missing from my experience
neth jones Nov 2020
life is open sore
blunderbus into a bewilderness
a fumbled structure
cannibalistic pratfall
blind ******
puncture
open sore
fester giving life
fizz

accompanied a paper hat, a toy penknife that looks like a fish and the joke : 'Why is an Elephant large grey and wrinkly ? ...because, if was tiny, white and smooth, it'd be an aspirin"
That's one of my favourite jokes... i did not write it.
neth jones Feb 2022
contaminated...                            

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
pursed
spritzed
lively          
            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

outside
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
within                                              
          pressurized audibility is clayed
hairs on the carpet tick static
              ....  this negative duress

outside
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

investigation                          
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
flammability
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
stands                                            
      and­ punches his footfalls
                  to the master bedroom

the parents
together now closeted
amniotic             
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)
tug-tug
grip
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
vent
an outward 'gush' as the pressure balances
the boy                        
dispose    
      push the viscid pelt out
the boy expels
disgorged into the night

                                              - consummated
neth jones Oct 2020
i reclaim the plate
cleared it of a ***** meal
dishes to be done
restorative action
like what may be done for us
tanka style
neth jones Sep 2019

weak aural colour

finding no worthy signal

feel no ruth for you


dismiss
Anti Haiku
neth jones Aug 2024
.
i launch from within                                                           ­                   
      the critical business of sleep and dreamwork          
                                                   and into the pre-furnished day
mucus skin                                            
like the first gobbed up evolver   to get turfed up on the beaches
i let go the veils   of those true solving agents
the motions     those treasurable scenes
of bloom and swoon tidal theatre
                     they disperse
and i tough out a self applied                      
                                   ­        measured  and subservient routine
          a hasty and unrewarding approach to   'productive'  business  
                                                              it­ brings me distaste
but   cements me in shared society
passer bys throw up their greetings
                                and i heave 'hellos' in return
neth jones Aug 2020
Pendulum beds and woes
        accounts for the urgent night
The clock is choring

Feverish nocturnal motion
Animals thread a little heat through the eve
Aerial beings stir the air
A quick beat can be drawn

Underlying ...
     fear is foundation of excitement
and anxious youth take this strum
        to their clumsy congress

The worrisome world
        has heaped up
The act of days
         distended
The workweeks edifice
        bares a stubborn plaque

This knotted bind loosens in the nights
and desperatly so
        in weekend blowouts

Time
when regarded
          is personally distorted

Time
the machine
          doesn't ebb and grow
It pits mechanism energy
          against its own material death

Night span
           repaves
         the diurnal degrade

The Night is where we can be re-met
            receive our charge
            and obtain a revision
neth jones Nov 2015
no more eating V.C.D.s
or licking saccharine from the acid trees
no more belly tight with saline mead
or a compass when you bleed-ache-bleed
'cause the time you buy
you tell of
is time
well spent
in a soft-head cell

no more draining of the bottle
or shelling of the mortar

know that all you sense today
is a bitter venom on its pulse-sent way
and the space your habit needs
is a tooth gap
and a pulp-pink tease

and the soil of what's to be
is deafening to me

no more scattered curiosities
no more dosing til you sick-sweet-sneeze
no more stilting on your knees
no more eating V.C.D.s *

Note : Visual Cure by Distortion




Previously published [Show Thieves 2010 : An Anthology Of Contemporary Montreal Poetry - 8TH HOUSE PUBLISHING]
doe
neth jones Aug 2020
doe
you are considered a dead thing
slowed down by decent refrigeration
and declared
'personality put to pasture'

a name would help with the paperwork
neth jones Jun 2019
the emergency of life
the spot lit fight
vigorous
apparent
the thrashing of the harvest
in the threshing of our night cares
sew what you mourn
in the blot of the moon

it’s all a swallow
one gross reactive swallow

your time perception
is gourded
your feelers
are fluence and torted

everything’s fun today
the sun spills the sun today
all fur is on end
all eyes are refreshed
fleshing mirrors
absurding the observed
playing with mother’s scissors
dog sugar dog sugar
attend to the worlds genitals
re-open The Eden for business
and theatre
Surreal style piece..
neth jones Nov 2024
how sick the mirrors are    of visiting our dumb faces
how weary the door is    of being bolted for our precious privacy
how dreary are our voices  to the walls
          as they are trounced  by our mad surly language ?
are the beds exhausted absorbing our stains ?
are the chairs knackered enduring our strain ?

how burdened are the tables by our taxes ?
how taxed are the windows projecting in ?
is the plumbing fatigued
          or the electric stressed ?
how geared up and fearful are the stairs
           as we begin our ascent ?
how bent out of shape is the ovens mood
           to bloat with heat and then cook our food ?

the engines of our house are in order
though  they must consider their efforts wasted
                     maintaining our bewildering lifestyle
29/09/24
neth jones Feb 3
i tell myself not to chide you child  
not to berate you into a convenient obedience
yet....

just last Monday eve
i told your voice that it was shrill   like a hurt bird
(that cuts a career as Singer out of your future)

just yesterday
i told you graphically and with crazed gestures
about the dangers of the open upstairs window
(a future fear of heights may well be on its way)

and i remember once
i told your body that society frowns upon ******
(that'll ensure future embarrassment  shame
and ****** awkwardness)

i chide myself now
   these practices must cease
“May you never be the reason why someone who loved to sing, doesn't anymore. Or why someone who dressed so uniquely, now wears plain clothing. Or why someone who always spoke so excitedly about their dreams, is now silent about them.”

In a world where you can be anything be kind.
Quote by Sharouk Mustafa Ibrahim
neth jones Apr 14
descend into the shuddery pressure deep                          
a still cold and pac like in sound reduction
unmending
arms folded over arms break loose for my way                  
my heart matter is here somewhere
below the level of finks of bioluminescence
below the predatory depth
fonds of rubbery reachers
snags of life
vented elements  from the earths magma
last checked 13/03/25
neth jones Oct 2024
.

jump     -     start
heart-wired  flash-fired
fore and aft      i'm wit-lashed
ride   a  scutting  state   (oh-my-hate)
glare   at the creature  (will  it  look  away ?)
i'm    jolty      a    s l e e p y  menace
death        in  the  drivers   seat
slur down  drowsing
jump     -    start

.
original notes removed from 'results of sleep deprivation'

jump-start         heart-wired                                
    flash-fired   back and forth
wit-lashed by my scutting state
glaring my hate at the creature
till  it at least looks away
i am both jolty and sleepy
most unwelcome behind the wheel
unappealing company
company halt
neth jones Jun 2018
An udder of lies
A profession
You are an utter lung

Fresh of breath
You prove yourself
Over and over
To be evident and no false seller

But a greeder within me
That I offer meals no longer
Stirs in its dormancy
Alters in recognition of you :
Double Tongue
D.T. 2.         Pledge

though a tradesman by action
I pledge no double tongue
and steer
by matching simple heart to equal heat
good of spell
clean of word
to be a tradesman of loft
deemed weight
sufficient
neth jones Jul 2018
At home we have instrument
We have task for our senses
And chore to cement company
We have duct
We have other
And we have other in practice
Home can operate with being
And can factory improvement
It has appetite and seasons
Cavern and congregation
It has gratitude and matters
Chatters and conflict
And conflict resolved
Instrument
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