A Book of Poetry by Christopher L. Jones All rights reserved. All material contained in this manuscript is copyright 2011. Cover image by the author. www.jonesing.com


3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

Breakfast The Warmth Is Waning Sneezing I Stood On the Stoop Moving Past So Caught Up Such Heavy Breaths Warm Sunny Day What Do I Know Thinking Quietly I Inhale Hard Frustrated Afternoon My Blood Is Sick Black Mood Walking Hand In Hand Worth Every Measure Bad Taste In My Mouth Such Big Change Energies Flowing A Momentary Hold On Reason I Stared at Your Face So This Is It Quiet Weekend Future Tense About the Author



breakfast consists on two shots thick black and rich designed to kick me into consciousness a smoke a toke another shot before I jolt not entirely healthy but it is what I am known for


The Warmth Is Waning

the warmth is waning the cold comes with the new moon the trees shake in the breeze that blows through the valley from the north from the icy heralds at the top of the world all the way down to here where I am shivering in my bed with the window open too lazy to get up and close it



sneezing allergy attack miserable I am aching in my back ass is sore for sitting here bored waiting for the day to up end it tissue I grab across my desk to my cheek another sneeze and I stare at the clock the end of the day I am no where near it


I Stood On the Stoop

I stood on the stoop and looked out at the sky the horizon that stretched far and wide the land lay before me all I could see the red sun setting leaving the night wanting the day taking heed I watch them the planes flying in the sky I watch them land over and over again and I am left wondering why why do we travel and move so far out of our space leave the comfort of our bed and seek adventure and new days new friends


Moving Past

moving past everything I hold dear I leave it all in the rear view mirror my body streaks past high up in the sky a bright burning arch shot up and out they can see me waving goodbye my trajectory ends there deep in the dark the unknown


So Caught Up

so caught up am I right now in the immediate sensations that around me abound it is all about me and with this I feel guilt for I wish it was all about some one other than me


Such Heavy Breaths

such heavy breaths I breathe today for nothing seems to be going my way I struggle with everything and it all fights back I have not moved forward since I took two steps back all this effort just makes me want to go home to bed close the curtains turn off the light and lay down my head


Warm Sunny Day

warm sunny day has come my way one last time before winter is here to stay it makes me linger and enjoy the view I stop and smell the air is still sweet but not for long for in a short while the chill will be upon me and I will be forced to put on all my warm clothes again I fear


What Do I Know

what do I know but the stress I cause to myself and all the others who care for me and share their love I only torment never should they have trusted me at all for when I have lost the path and cannot see what lays behind or ahead of me I thrash about and make a scene a spectacle to behold a waste of potential that's me


Thinking Quietly

thinking quietly by myself alone from the world at large wondering what I should do next be it grandiose or small as I ponder this the earth it turns and continues on its way time keeps ticking not waiting for me to make up my mind at last


I Inhale Hard

I inhale hard and draw that smoke as I watch the airport from afar the planes take off one after another leaving me to venture to lands foreign and strange what I wouldn't give to be on a jet speeding away from here do not fear I would return some day and tell you of all I have seen


Frustrated Afternoon

frustrated this afternoon at all I have to do before I get to leave go home and forget this world all I want is to curl up and rest lay my head down and sleep a bit


My Blood Is Sick

my blood is sick I feel it within swimming through me working its way to my heart where it lays in wait to sink its fangs deep into me sucking my life out as my withered breath breathes its last do I cut my wrists and let the sickness bleed out spewing out and onto the floor black inky bile so vile


Black Mood

black mood from this morning where did you go? drifted away during the day it seems and I didn't even notice you being gone so busy have I been with everyone's work that I have not once faced my plate to see what has been loaded up there for me to deal with alone tonight when the sky is dark and the only light comes from the lamp above my bathroom mirror


Walking Hand In Hand

walking hand in hand down the sidewalk path to the tree lined lane where the children all play splashing into the river with such glee all but ignorant of the two lecherous souls standing on the bridge staring too old tired and worn out to jump in after but more than willing to just stand there and soak in the spectacle


Worth Every Measure

worth every measure is my time seeming I have so little and yet I always end up wasting it on things like standing in line watching the computer stopping at the light but now I do not feel like playing along I will just plow ahead full steam till dead


Bad Taste In My Mouth

bad taste in my mouth from biting my lip due to stress and just being alive it is painful sometimes just to exist just to put up with all of this so I clench down on my lower lip and pierce it with my teeth I let the blood pour down trickling onto my gums in between my cheeks


Such Big Change

such big change I never do it small throw it all out and start fresh and new blank canvas on my wall it might not be so dramatic if I didn't strip everything away but in my rebirth I hope to find myself some day


Energies Flowing

energies flowing rapidly in pools torrents of colors arranged in a whirl I watch it spin before I step in to let the coursing electricity spark my inner brain and I relax for a moment in an energized way


A Momentary Hold On Reason

a momentary hold on reason has kept me here locked solid in its familiar embrace before I let myself go to free fall into the abyss of chaos and absurdity a wealth of unknowns and heartily I throw myself unthinking but yet total aware and petrified


I Stared at Your Face

I stared at your face as it looked back at me frowning with sadness in your eyes thinking that this is the ending when really it is nothing more than a new beginning but one in which there is no definitive us just a casual passing by in the night two sailors looking out waving a signal to a friendly soul


So This Is It

so this is it my journey here has ended and it is time to pick up and scamper off again never too long in one place to become a regular or a familiar just always the stranger the outsider looking in wanting to join you at your table but never allowed to come in


Quiet Weekend

quiet weekend of solitude spent picking up pieces from the week’s rages Furies all had torment for me banged out in the spaces between all my calm moments of spent reasoning shards of glass cut my feet numb from lack of sleep I stare at the blood trickling and decide not to clean it


Future Tense

future tense is all excitement and wonder to me now I have thrown myself back twenty years to when I was young dumb and proud to re-live my past mistakes to stay sober and keep pace with all my aspirations, dreams and wish fors that up till now has been beyond my reach just idle temptations of a bitter angry soul


About the Author

Christopher L. Jones is an author, poet and artist living in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA. Originally born in Tucson, Arizona, and a graduate of New Mexico State University with a degree in Philosophy and Theater Arts, he has spent over twenty five years contributing to the various performing arts groups in his community. His work has been described as "masturbating on the world’s stage in verse" and "...exactly what is wrong with the average white American male..." Christopher started writing after being introduced to poetry as a form of art therapy as a teenager and has not stopped since. Aside from working with words, he is a single father of one. Having majored in technical theater and arts management, Christopher has been active back stage since his childhood, mostly working in the areas of lighting and scenic design, sound design, properties design, stage management and producer. To find out more about the author and his work visit www.jonesing.com

His novel, WATERBOARDED, is now available through Chipmunka Publishing: http://chipmunkapublishing.co.uk/shop/index.php? main_page=product_info&products_id=1708


Sign up to vote on this title
UsefulNot useful