New Years

Never really been a fan of New Years.

Then again,  how can you not be a fan of an inevitable fact of life?

Time,  moves on without respect of persons.

Does his job,  keeps moving.

Sometimes He slows,  not because he likes you,  but as the bus driver must slow down to regulate the service irrespective of your need to be at work “Now!”; He does his job.

Sometimes he quickens,  not because he hates you but like the ice cream running down to your elbow, regardless of your desire to savour it in its wholeness; He does his job.

Things change but nothing is new, per se.

Another year? sure.

New? No.

It’s just time moving forward, except now we stop to notice.

Except now we pause to appreciate.

Except now we continue to depreciate in the same way.  Just a little later.

Growing older has always been a fear of mankind.

Because it means growing closer to death.

But again,  its useless to fear an inevitable fact of life.

What we should fear is not making the most of time we do have because:

Time, moves on without respect of persons.

Does his job,  keeps moving.

I suggest we all do the same.

C. Jones 2017

Puppy Love

*Licks his nose* Hey, I love you.

And I dunno,  I’m not really trying to think too hard as we lie here

And there

Currently, back to back

Like the lives of the cat that I am and  you are

You are everything,

Every morning spent waiting without a choice

Every afternoon, with short clipped breaths of you,  and life in between

And every night, holding on…. hoping for a way to stay awake forever, and you wonder why I circle the bed?

Feels like falling,

In love? Yes

In trouble? Also yes

Not Poetic as I’d like but hey,

Love isn’t always pretty.

Sometimes it’s unexpected and unexplained. Some things just are.

Like we just are and why you have dimples AND fangs

No boxes. No reasoning.  No regrets.

Just don’t leave me in this alone to moan at the moon and complain of your perfection.

I’d rather not have to return with my tail imperfectly still to lie beside another pair of slippers.

To sit at the foot of the door waiting for and invisible stick. Id rather one that’s long and slightly curved with ridges I can sink my teeth into.

A boomerang to bring me back into…



And yet after all is said and done,

I’d trade my nine lives for one…

with you


C.  Jones Jan 2017




You get under my skin and it hurts sometimes.

Not forceful,  never,  you’re a gentleman.

The first hit sling shots to my head. I’m out dead, they say corpses don’t smile, but they would, if dying was always this wild

The second snipes my heart ♥ and I’m up alive.  Nerve endings burnt to a crisp. You’re electric, and my veins are steel knives.

This is slowly becoming an addiction I need to beat,  do I wait till I’m showing signs I need to treat?

Or do I hit my “Meds”one more time?

The good kind, the “I should” kind,  kind that makes me better… or worse – the best I’ve been in a while.

You should probably come with a warning label, not sure i’d read it but I’m sure it says “makes hearts unstable”.

The kind of medication one should take according to the dose, but clearly I’m not the type to care, so bring on the comatose.

And its blissful black,

the not thinking,

just feeling,

till wisdom cracks,

And we’re blinking

with heads reeling

…….. and I’m awake again.

You, you’re half past tired and your eyes are wide asleep.. The only peace that I get from your Needles that run intricately deep…Yet not entire peace,  it slows to a dull ache.

Never was blessed with unawareness, just waiting for waiting’s sake


C. Jones 02/01/17

Thinking about you 

I saw a man who looked like you just now, 

On a bike. 

His face was hard and his gaze straight. 

I wondered what life was doing,  to make you so staunched

Maybe, that guy had upset you again

Or that woman had returned to fatigue 

Maybe their mother had given some bad news 

Or the children had caught a disease…


Too many people have boarded 

This bus is now too crowded to think 

But I hope whatever it is that pains you 

Drifts away like the clouds on the brink.  

About the Hands

Adurna Blue

The sky is overcast today,

I love it when the weather understands

The wispy clouds feel through my mind

Forming the portrait of your hands

You said you didn’t get why I liked ’em

They were just ordinary palms and fingers

But you see, nothing about you is ordinary,

Not when the touch of your print lingers

I have to close my eyes each time

As my skin tries to remember the exact placement

Of your hands within my hands

And where the corner of your face went

Pressed against my chest

Cheek imprinted upon my heart

Guess if you could open me up,

You’d see the impressed part

And still a part of me wants to forget

One should never have this much of a hold on me

Save for Jesus and His desires

Who holds my cards can choose to fold on me

But in the end there’s…

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What is it?

Adurna Blue


It’s like
One of those images out of someone’s imagination
Living next to train tracks on the other side of the fence
It’s like
Looking up to the wind as your mind goes with the cars
And realising that fluid thought has naturally become dense.
It’s like
Wanting so badly to write something amazing
But end up, tearing flora from their solemn bed of green
It’s like,
Closing your eyes to the smell of inspiration
But the rain that came before you washed the air and scene clean.
It’s like
Writing a poem that’s nothing near your best
You haven’t written in so long the words have died at your wrists.
It’s like
Waiting too long to say you’re sorry for that wrong
Pride held your tongue randsom, till the regret dripped off your lips.
It’s like..
Pausing for a moment but having no need to breathe again
Letting emotion…

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Adurna Blue

I woke again today
Infront of a house that seemed familiar,
Felt for a key
I didn’t know I had,
Stepped in and said hello to a woman I didn’t know existed,
And patted the head of a child who was perfectly mad

Cried hard in the night to a God I couldn’t remember,
I begged long and low for a peace I wouldn’t forget
Went to bed thinking my life was December
And woke for the last time with a mind “to let”.


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I Hate It When She Looks At Me

Adurna Blue

I Hate it when she looks at me
I’m sorry but I can’t help you!
I am neither child nor dead
We have nothing in common.

I hate it when she looks at me!
Her image charred behind my lids
As her lids sag sadly over tired eyes.
And loose skin ripple over bruised bones
Her lips shake in time with her tremours
I hate it when she looks at me.
I cannot hide from the evidence of her poverty
Her Temple of God has been robbed
The pillars she stands on have crumbled
The gate is open,
There is no more outer court
The same is almost true of her inner
But Her holy of Holies is still secure.

I hate it when she looks at me.
She never says a word,
Yet her gaze translates her heart
Her tears overflow into my eyes
And we cry together

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So,  I’ve come home for two weeks and this is day 6. Slightly disappointed in myself and my emotional states.  They’ve been quite erratic.  Seeing people I haven’t seen in a while, realising I’ve missed some more than others; maybe missing some a little too much more than others. But all round it’s been great.  Trying to keep focused however is not easy here.  It feels like I’m on an emotional roller coaster with only one slope- up.  It’s not that serious at times,  but with the introduction of some new information about old friends, I’ve found myself rethinking how my life may have gone if I had made different choices.  Regardless I’m happy and comfortable with where I am. Just thought I’d drop by a lay a few thoughts out.  It’s been a while. 😊 Anyway, pray I make it the other 8 days without anymore mini heart attacks.  Thanks.