Strider | HumanPets.com - Free online hangout and friends

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Name:	Strider , 93/Male
Last login:	over 3 weeks ago
Local time:	3:59 PM
Join date:	5 months, 16 days ago
Location:	United Kingdom

"A wild Wolf and Gypsy Rover content to roam"
About me: Strider Marcus Jones – is a poet, law graduate and former civil servant from Salford, England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. He is the editor and publisher of Lothlorien Poetry Journal https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/. A member of The Poetry Society, his five published books of poetry https://stridermarcusjonespoetry.wordpress.com/ reveal a maverick, moving between cities, playing his saxophone in smoky rooms. His poetry has been published in over 200 magazines, journals, reviews and anthologies including: Dreich Magazine; The Racket Journal; Trouvaille Review; dyst Literary Journal; Impspired Magazine; Melbourne Culture Corner; Literary Yard Journal; The Honest Ulsterman; Poppy Road Review; The Galway Review; Cajun Mutt Press; Rusty Truck Magazine; Rye Whiskey Review; Deep Water Literary Journal; The Huffington Post USA; The Stray Branch Literary Magazine; Crack The Spine Literary Magazine; A New Ulster; The Lampeter Review; Panoplyzine Poetry Magazine and Dissident Voice.
About you: I was on the original Human Pets with other writers and poet friends. Hoping to reconnect with them and new poets/writers.
Looking for:	Friendship
Orientation:	Straight
Herds:	heart attack and vine

Strider's tales

CALCULUS

Darwin can't explain the missing link,
and science, did not invent the goal
of faith in how we think-
but Newton keeps us
sane to find the whole
gravity and reason for our role-
in calculus.

science beyond ours does exist,
in un-deciphered hieroglyphs
and alchemy's of metals
malleable like petals
on spaceships
crashed in Roswell, gone
to Area 51.

like Dedalus, who prayed too good
through Dublin's streets
of saints and sinners,
while whores exchanged their treats
for cash, from winners and beginners-
i walked towards the priesthood,
but woke up wet with wood.

i realised, Carlisle was right in saying:
no lie can live forever-
that the Gods we make together
praying-
don't care or intervene
in human fate and actions-
so Spinoza's God is seen,

in the orderly reactions
of the universe-
creating life, and waiting hearse-
but metaphors of doubt persist
on the road to armageddon,
for if physics shapes all of this-
what shapes these cloths of heaven?

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. 21st January, 2009.

Strider "not active" Content - 5 months, 15 days ago

I FOLLOW YOU INTO NIGHT

i sense you in summer wind
and try to redefine the Other ring
that binds us
in this tormenting
show of come and go
that minds us.

in the sentence of a sound
i hear your pain
then turn it's fate around
to break the blame
mending happenings
and broken strings.

footfalls confide
in shadows that duet in our divide
on a bridge where dark persuasions swallow light
i follow you into night
through corridors uncurtained dreams
in tapestries and surreal scenes.

that corrugated face of time
marks motions set to mime-
on the balcony of fate he leant
where rites and runes evoked her scent-
to hear the music in her ways
smile and quicken upon his gaze.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. 26th October, 2009.

Strider "not active" Content - 5 months, 15 days ago

MAVERICKS

you taste of cinnamon and fish
when you wish
to be romantic-
and the ciphers of our thoughts
make ringlets with their noughts
immersed in magic-
like mithril mail around me
stove dark forest, pink flesh sea
touchings tantric-
make reality and myths
converge in elven riffs
of music, so we dance it-
symbols to the scenes
of conflict, mavericks in dreams
that now sit-
listening to these pots and kettles
blackening on the fire
of rhetoric and murderous mettles-
before we both retire
to our own script.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. 2010.

Strider "not active" Content - 5 months, 15 days ago

MONACLE

remote ramblings,
stepped and spoken;
like gamblings
that bloomed-
only to be broken,
wandered
and roomed,
waited on quiet landings
like squandered perfume-
left open.

marxist marches.
mithril kisses under gothic arches-
role playing elf and cleric
in cold caves removed from Berek
the Halfhand's chronicle,
seem mesmeric-
when seen through monacle.

but the other eye looks back too,
inside this rhapsody with you;
and the light-
switched off.
switched on.
off,
and on,
loving day and night-
through prose phases
and shared phrases
of captured sun and moon-
like mellow yellow, stroking white witches broom;

knows nature's laws
has moods
and flaws
in her quietudes-
that reason cause,
and fathom clues.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. 8th December, 2009.

Strider "not active" Content - 5 months, 15 days ago

THE NAKEDNESS OF TRUTH

everywhere i go,
you know
me.
talking to you,
and below
you,
slowly-
spring flows into summer
inside, out and under
this waterfall.

sat drying, on slabs of linen rocks,
splashing coloured words, that fall
like pointillated dots
on cast off oppositions:
in those hats and shoes and basket of flowers,
we change positions-
and in the gap, where nature and culture impose like towers,
self artifice is dressed-
but the nakedness
of truth is ours.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. 26th April, 2010.