Poem in Which Kid Jupiter Has Hidden The Gumbo Ingredients

When your brain’s nothing but a kitchen in havoc –

when the black padlock rattles but will not spring open –

when a sour sauce edges each spoonful of thinking –

when the cellar reels cavernously in all directions –

when it’s chilly in the catacombs –

when the flower you picked lies crushed between pages –

when you’ve begun young and gone grey half way –

when the lazy queue minks right to the moon

and the swamp’s toxicity makes your Geiger tick cricketishly –

when your meters are gaga, licking their faces blank –

when the decibel pep of your song’s turned to static –

when you’re drawn, quartered! Bought up! Thwarted!

Oh toss the lot in a blistery pot, with your tears for salt.

Jon Stone

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Poem In Which Suddenly I’m Awake

When I hear my friend’s voice through the wall,
………..distorted by night terrors –
…………………….changed to some broken flame-soaked bird
……….or one-eyed berserker in wolfskin –

………well, it makes of the darkness in my room
………a single heavy lens
……………….so that my gaze penetrates
………………catacombs and warrens
………………to a depth beyond any I know.

………And there I can perhaps make out
………………fear with his pick, fear
……………………………..wielding his transformative powers

……………………………..the same fear who has a seat
………………in the throneroom of all inner worlds,

who itches maddeningly in the blood
………of my brother with the gun beneath his pillow,

………who boils in the vein-riddled brainpan
………………of the baron surveying his acreage,

………………who slaves even reason, his finger-smears
……………………………..grubbying all wicked policies,

……………………………..his lead adding clout
………………………………….to all blows aimed downward,

………………………………….his acid on the tongues of powerful men.

………………………………….Well then, look at him now
……………………………………..working at my heart,
……………………………………..fastidious as a watchmaker,

………………………………………..mum as to whether he means to make me
………………………………………..his fool

………………………………………….or his instrument.