Posts — Doug Jones


“Reimagined the bomber myself, to the point where it
was new = new – for this was the 1 bomber we could
belong to, + there, in a continuum of being – from lamb,
to ginger our comrade navigator struck, dead – but of a
sudden, functionally reborn, ploughing the basic Nazi
state at night – a color book in flames. Ginger on the
tube back to Aldgate ways was his life, a remaining wall
– species changing”


“This desire, what exactly do you want? travelling
back/forward in time, do your notes need rescue from
your stern, ubiquitous hood? The shaped base
architecture to historical want – a building body waking
up interminable structures of dance. Vast cities. But
there’s loyal residents on the street – now. Humanitarian
adopting, their desire who structures a leniency – which
can uncorrupt meds”


“Jesus the king, breaking down exhausted protein +
using the leftover material, again. Autophagy in the golgi
of gold, the rich cell, the gorgeous space for prayer.
Vigilance, fosters destructive / endocytic crossroad of
terrible saints in evolution of a million forms of new man.
Revives, strengthens the cycle of compassion, love, the
marginal screen, it flows thru many a clean election”


“What exactly has a soul, the winner or the loser? As
they wander round the year which of them is in accord
with the victories, defeats of nature? Was this grad
student once – he was very good, could tease out
intentions of the trees – like what side would their
shadow fall today, who might come by later to hoover
them up. He prayed for what everything meant. + the
seasons just fell into his lap”


“There were this horse and she was bigger, busier than
any lamb you could think of – came out the darkness of
the ground poor, but not stupid, ready to be there as the
pursuit of light from heaven intensified, light from
heaven on her, and she was not noticed in her
conversion, or were it birth. Literally framed by her
compassion. Animal bone look back in the darkness,
where it is still good”


“Community of water carriers move in/out a lake how
graceful was their sport at their work. New world
pitches, preparants to fish their hearts out, so much
living flesh to hit up their hands – it’s the 1 farm. Beans
forever soaked all the stayers. Eaten up – no! we WERE
the bean, the turning country and had done nothing
more than precipitated spoil in young land – cold though,
the shared dresses”


“It’s dark + something’s badly wrong with her eyes, will
this last? She does 2 jobs, salt’s the 1st, then it’s
something to do with cognac. But grapes gone cloudy +
her hours been cut. Jobs on the back of jobs, along the
river to dawn. 70 + there’s nothing I can say. ‘Those
who stay well don’t move’ Now she’s blind. Asking the
kid on her back, as she wants to, for the new sun to
relax. Then it might rain”


“where am I on earth, where the sunlight moves more
slowly because its further from the map. Good
Navigator, predict were all longitude soaks in plant
design, where commerce, mensuration describe that
star locality is made of math – from where you stand in
the enclosed space – to the 4 corners of the native town,
roots projected to relentless work. A computer, sliding,
shadows apparent boards”


“Dead witches bound troubled, in alternate, vertical rows
– endured +/- embracing they form a back, bulbs of
plants made of an off centre cellulose – best
underground – for my own green grass club, killed these
spited wens – written up now as much for taxonomic
music – deep as their collected spells. # If they really are
dead # Their doll faces, evil amoebaean singing, ground
covers to our lawn”


“What you suffer, weak fleshed repetitive man, bulky V.
slow in coming for class, paying debts – slapped on the
arms of every god, swear adits to a failing mine. Did it
work, catchfire? So much you extirpated – but in a box.
Natural guilt + marshalled, the wrath of the gods, vast,
deliberate has little motivation for you as you wonder.
Tears in the acts of evil – drained of salt, fat – mere blue


“Cool. I get to hold you at last – containment of wonders
created heaven as a room, cognate of roof, bought.
Iteration of a despot for that line of kings. crates, the
constant which goes into fixed imperial point of 1st route
+ wool, strict in 2 distinct rows of court, ah prince,
establish great souls of steel in which you make, light,
eternal Product ship, + appropriate good, Master. All
you might ever stress”


“Understanding – so there is no god, Gracie, daughter of
memes, what there was – but a collection of whited
scores – wives – that these are all the same as the sun.
In this we exist, associated. Planet imitate of the young
necropolis home – unite. his S as yet the same – in
selective forfeiture Qui conducted. As they were many
male turbulent weights in this star, Abraham + yet there
was one”


“The 2 armies are fighting again – this time over the sin of
pride, which made the infantry lay down + weep, various
anger in tight bound sequence of body control, grief –
contemporary dress + too many meds. Saul, suicide-
suicide leaves agony for the armourbearer, purgatory for
the girl. On – before they’d even had a chance to meet,
franchise repudiate. Marshal teen issue, in other love
and sign”

Doug Jones was born in Romford and initially studied English at Warwick, he then completed an MPhil on the poet Bill Griffiths. While doing his MPhil he fell in with Bob Cobbing’s Writers Forum group – which was a huge influence. After college, he worked as a nurse in east London for many years and then as a doctor in Norfolk. He is married with 2 children and is currently working as a GP in Yarmouth. He has published two poetry books with Veer, with a third book coming out later this year. Work has also appeared in datableed, VLAK, Junction Box, tears in the fence – as well as a few other places. 

Image: Gold BokehLady Ro, Creative Commons.