Sunday, January 17, 2016

Three Poems by Ken L. Jones

Seek and Find

The telltale red plasma
Subway cars still linger
In the echo of the dance of
The whiff of earlier days
While a lithe standup bass
Purrs haven't we lived this moment before
Or is it just one strand of many
That contains the multitudes
Of all that sadness has to say
The air smells of wet drywall and woodchips
As my memories as mysterious
As a pair of prehensile needle nose pliers
Pry open some alternate reality
That peels away like the layers of an onion
To where mewling dreams are illuminated
And only become grimmer
As the summer moon sheds tears of motor oil
In the finely spun rain
And I find myself damaged
Bewildered and forgotten
An ever rolling explosion
Of backward splicing in zero gravity
A black velvet painting of
An exploding computer mainframe
An Area 51 who is now merely
Zombie guitar strumming
And you won't like me when I get angry
For I am all that is buried deep in a dreamer
I am the one that the Ouija board foretold
And I must indeed warn you
Do not stand in my way
As I transmute from lead into gold.

Travel to Awaken

In the daredevil imbalance where insomniacs make origami
Out of the rigged chess match that is waking life
I try to contemplate all that I have known
In my centuries old frontal lobes
Corroded by too much of the diet Dr. Pepper
Which helps get me through each day somewhat alive
The night weaves tapestries out of human blood
Distinctive amber pods of Johnny Mercer's Jeepers Creepers
Howl like telepathic werewolves
In the no heart beat of the elegant silver phases of the moon
The Swiss cheesy total sleeplessness
I have known for years
Reminds me of Karlheinz Stockhausen
Who had the curiosity of a magpie
And I remember listening to his symphonies
While strange snowflakes that had all the mutability of a chameleon
Piled up on the ground in a slow dance
That was like my love shedding her white satin pajamas
For only me to wonder at
It was all torn from the surf of splendid Grateful Dead album covers
That spoke to me in a tongue that was like Zap Comix
Before a gloom that was darker than any inkpot
Transformed my zodiac animal the lion
Into a foaming at the mouth pitbull
And on this muggy night that is like Green Lantern's power ring
Traversing the depths of space as it carries him to Oa
Against the beautiful hand cut color of these mountains
I realize and acknowledge that I am trapped forever and always
In what's going on in the upside down.

Arrived Perfect

There is the shiver of empty highways
In the dirt and bones of my visionary states
Where dried corn voices dance in the sand
Swaying to the strains of waning daylight as it takes command
Twinkling in the wasted blood
Of bleached white ghost creatures
Who strayed in from the soft beautiful voices
Of the albino wilderness of forever
Drowning us in the formaldehyde of their tattered glances
That engulfed us like a rushing river
While she ran her fingers through the new moon's rising
As we were caught up in the undertow of spinning away
On the waves of a beach that never spoke any given language
Entwined in the regrets of our identical dreams
That luckily for us ran in tributary streams.

For the past thirty-five years Ken L. Jones has been a professionally published author who has done everything from writing Donald Duck Comic books to creating things for Freddy Krueger to say in some of his movies.  In the last six years he has concentrated on his lifelong ambition of becoming a published poet and he has published widely in all genres of that discipline in books, online, in chapbooks and in several solo collections of poetry.  

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