Friday, October 3, 2014

Three Poems by Ken L. Jones

Amid the Frigid

Midnight's spaceship wears a James Brown cloak
The stars above the valley below
Are so like an Enchantment Under The Sea dance
Even though I know they are "Signed Epstein's mother"
The bottomless seaside has a musicality to it
That clings to the menagerie of beach houses that dot its shores
While beautiful young teenage girls in saddle shoes
Climb on The Pikes' cherry pie rollercoaster
Seated by a carny who looks at them like the cat who got the cream
And I find that I remember them all
All of those memories now have become
Like some Stonehenge arrangement of rocks to me
Even as I punch the buttons of this childhood dream
So like moon glass brought back at such a price
That the interest in it should not have so quickly passed
In this new century where there is no Max Headroom or anything as cool as that

Ashes in a Hearth

As this day of pink petaled lingering summer vanishes
Peppermint street lights turn on like daydreams
As I revel in the crumbling of my diminishing memories
So like an old Ouija board with lettering peeling
And as I ferment in the melody of her voice
That is now but a tattered postcard in the used paperback of my last days on this planet
Where as I look at the stars and at last realize
Why birds have wings as they arc majestically over this cradle infested valley
All the angels I will ever need in this world or any other
And as I pick up my paint brush of misgivings waiting to sail to a far different beach
On an island of the rarest minerals where I will soar forever
Like all that is abandoned finally at last Mr. Natural and Dr. Strange at the same time
Once I leave forever behind this dreadful world of meat trucks
Rattling down to where the trains and stoplights are but late night ballads unto themselves
That can cut the pages out of your most reevaluated reasons
With hardly any effort and such sleath
That nobody but you will notice the difference in all their meanings
Or much of anything else

Shooting Clay Pigeons

I've needed you so bad ever since I was a baby
And now that topaz and silver Miles Davis
And country fried Mozart softly play
Till comes our theme song from half a century ago
That we first heard on an unbelievable beach back in the day
Just two rootless loners misspelled on life's message board
Who never stopped turning the cheese squirting pages
Not even long after Maya Angelou had become a phantom
Wandering in this blink and you'll miss me thing called reality
And if I get my wish my last meal will be
Understanding all that my sweetheart ever spoke softly of to me
Slathered with a supersized portion of the cameo like perfection of her face
So like some starfish caught in the net of all that I'd ever dreamed of
On this rugged coastline of gnarled olive trees

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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