Really chuffed to have 3 poems published in Necro Magazine, Issue 4, Winter 2020 – Culture. My thanks to the editor Ruben Baca.

Click to access Cultureissue4necromagazine.pdf

IN MAID’S WATER

we’ve left the well-footed

road,

the rutted

and rebutted

road

of shadows cast

by towered glass.

opened closed curtains

for fusty moths,

chanted white spells with Wiccan’s

goths;

left pictured

rooms and halls-

become un-scriptured

hills and squalls-

in maid’s water

pouring down her

erect chalk man,

like a wild gypsy,

love tipsy

partisan,

smelling of cinnabar

and his cigar,

swirling

like whirling

clouds

while the changed wind howls.

TWO MISFITS

it was no time
for love outside-
old winds of worship
found hand and mouth
in ruined rain
slanting over cultured fields
into pagan barns
with patched up planks
finding us two misfits.

i felt the pulse
of your undressed fingers
transmit thoughts
to my senses-
aroused by autumn scents
of milky musk
and husky hay
in this barn’s faith
we climbed the rungs of civilisation
so random in our exile-

and found a bell
housed inside a minaret-
with priest and muezzin
sharing its balcony-
summoning all to prayer
with one voice-
this holy music, was only the wind
blowing through the weathervane,
but we liked its tone to change its time.

THE DOOR

the door

between skyfloor

topbottom

is rankrotten

portalbliss

or abjectabyss.

it contains conversations

confrontations,

hiding loves two-ings

in lost ruins-

shuts us inside our self

with or without someone else.

we,

the un-free,

disenfranchised poor

have no bowl of more-

only pain

on the same plain

as before,

homeless

or in shapeless boxes,

worked out, hunted, like urban foxes-

outlaws on common lands

stolen from empty hands.

files on us found

from gathering sound

where mutations abound

put troops on the ground.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. All rights reserved.