—Poetry by Jean Jones, Wilmington, NC
—Public Domain Photos
I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU MY WHOLE LIFE
My whole life I've been looking for you—
how I wished it was you, how I begged it was you,
And when you found me,
when I was in your arms,
you kissed me
And I knew
I loved you,
you loved me,
our tongues touched,
you drank me, released me
and I've never been lost
I've never been lost. . .
My whole life I've been looking for you—
how I wished it was you, how I begged it was you,
And when you found me,
when I was in your arms,
you kissed me
And I knew
I loved you,
you loved me,
our tongues touched,
you drank me, released me
and I've never been lost
I've never been lost. . .
JONAH’S PRAYER
I was brought into the Covid Unit at the hospital
in respiratory duress,
I was in such acute respiratory distress
they had to pump 45 liters of oxygen into my lungs,
and as my doctor told me,
when they start to have to put 45 liters of oxygen
in a minute into your lungs,
people just don't recover from that,
but I did.
After the doctor asked me if I wanted to be
kept alive or have a respirator keep me alive,
I said, "Yes, I have a 14-year-old son, and a 20-year-old daughter,"
I want to be kept alive."
I left a message for my Pastor to pray for me,
and when she heard I was in the hospital with Covid,
she felt she had to pray right away for me because my life
was in danger.
Within 24 hours, I went from needing 45 liters of oxygen
in a minute down to 3 liters of oxygen in a minute.
My doctor could not believe it.
"Most people don't recover that quickly," he said;
he had more tact than to say what he was really thinking—“
"Most people in that kind of distress don't recover."
I did recover. I got better.
Was it coincidence?
The next day I remembered the prayer of Jonah to God
after he was spit out by the big fish
onto the land:
Prior to that, Jonah was drowning—
“I called out to the Lord, out of my distress,
and he answered me;
out of the belly of Sheol I cried,
and you heard my voice."
RELEASE
That is what you are for me,
Over and over again,
Release, release, and release—
I was stifled, I was trapped,
you released me, you let me go,
You freed me,
I am now so relieved
that no matter what,
I can bear it—
You released me,
and everything becomes bearable again,
even for a few minutes,
thanks to you
letting me go,
over and over again.
That is what you are for me,
Over and over again,
Release, release, and release—
I was stifled, I was trapped,
you released me, you let me go,
You freed me,
I am now so relieved
that no matter what,
I can bear it—
You released me,
and everything becomes bearable again,
even for a few minutes,
thanks to you
letting me go,
over and over again.
REALIZATIONS WHEN I WAS
HOSPITALIZED FOR COVID
This, my slice of Life,
Reserved just for me, this place—
My life is outside—
HOSPITALIZED FOR COVID
This, my slice of Life,
Reserved just for me, this place—
My life is outside—
WHAT DRACULA IS ABOUT
Dracula is about addiction, and Dracula is a drug dealer—
The thirst for blood is heroin addiction and Dracula's wives
because of their addiction
sell their bodies
and are now prostitutes
and Dracula gets new wives
by introducing heroin into their veins—
We now call that human trafficking—
In the 19th-century in Victorian England,
this was how poor women in England made their money—
Hence the popularity of the book Dracula—
Freud would have agreed—
All those fluids blending together,
mouth and tongue kissing flesh.
Dracula is about addiction, and Dracula is a drug dealer—
The thirst for blood is heroin addiction and Dracula's wives
because of their addiction
sell their bodies
and are now prostitutes
and Dracula gets new wives
by introducing heroin into their veins—
We now call that human trafficking—
In the 19th-century in Victorian England,
this was how poor women in England made their money—
Hence the popularity of the book Dracula—
Freud would have agreed—
All those fluids blending together,
mouth and tongue kissing flesh.
THIRST
In vampire movies
the vampires call it
"the thirst"
this desire
to drink blood
that takes control
and all you want to do
is drink more and more blood
no matter who you kill, destroy, or wipe out
so my question for you is this—What is your thirst?
What do you want to do over and over again?
One of mine is food—I can definitely eat over and over again—
What is it for you? Money? Getting high? What drives you? What is your thirst?
My thirst drives me and your thirst drives you—where?
What do you need to do over and over again, regardless?
Get money?
For what?
To eat?
Drink?
Drink what?
Sex?
Release?
Relief?
What will it take
for you
to say No?
Not call it
not summon it—
Choose the time and place,
not the other way around—
Budget the money—
Never spend more than you planned—
Result? I am not bound to it anymore—
I am setting myself free
IN YOUR ROOM
You give me pools of living water
and I allow you to drink my blood
for the second time that night…
and after you drain me again
I look and marvel at your room,
this most intimate place,
where we commit intimate things with each other,
you surrender your body to me,
I surrender my body to you,
and we both lie exhausted afterwards,
our eyes looking up at your room,
this most intimate place
where we commit intimate things with each other,
you surrender your body to me,
I surrender my body to you,
our eyes looking at each other,
You give me pools of living water
and I allow you to drink my blood
for the second time that night…
You give me pools of living water
and I allow you to drink my blood
for the second time that night…
and after you drain me again
I look and marvel at your room,
this most intimate place,
where we commit intimate things with each other,
you surrender your body to me,
I surrender my body to you,
and we both lie exhausted afterwards,
our eyes looking up at your room,
this most intimate place
where we commit intimate things with each other,
you surrender your body to me,
I surrender my body to you,
our eyes looking at each other,
You give me pools of living water
and I allow you to drink my blood
for the second time that night…
WHAT IT FEELS LIKE
Nothing in the world comes close to it—
Maybe the runner running her last mile,
maybe the person taking a hit of his favorite drug,
this is where the animal comes alive,
when you avoid dying and the high is indescribable,
when you release yourself,
when she helps you get what you want,
and your favorite song is playing on the radio
and everything makes sense,
you release yourself,
she helps get you what you want,
you lose control
and your favorite song is playing on the radio
and everything makes sense...
Nothing in the world comes close to it—
Maybe the runner running her last mile,
maybe the person taking a hit of his favorite drug,
this is where the animal comes alive,
when you avoid dying and the high is indescribable,
when you release yourself,
when she helps you get what you want,
and your favorite song is playing on the radio
and everything makes sense,
you release yourself,
she helps get you what you want,
you lose control
and your favorite song is playing on the radio
and everything makes sense...
FOR D—
1960-2021
You were my friend, you wrote
on my birthday card
almost a month ago, and you,
along with my family,
were the only ones
who wished me a
happy birthday
Now you had your needs and desires
and I certainly found out what they were
and I know you would have hated
me writing about your business
to other people,
but you were my friend too.
You died the other night
and I was a witness to the aftermath
if not the main event—
I grabbed your hand in the ICU
and you tried your hardest to respond
but all you could manage were convulsions
vs. the humor and voice I was used to—
Now you're gone, and I don't have to hear
from you, asking me to drive you to Food Lion,
or the Dollar General, or church,
and I miss that.
I miss you.
I wish you were here,
but you're not.
It is what it is.
I miss you, my friend.
I'm glad to have known you;
as you mentioned in your card to me,
you felt God placed me here
to be in your life
and my response would have been
I'm glad God put me in your life.
I just wish he could have had
you live longer.
Bye, Darlene.
I'm glad to have met you.
I will miss your endless requests
and that needy voice of yours—
It will be peaceful for me.
And quiet.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO
—Jean Jones
At the hospital,
Looking from my bed, outside,
All this is my world—
All those in my life,
Family, friends and lovers,
All of this is mine—
____________________
Jean Jones is a part-time English as a Second Language Instructor at Cape Fear Community College in Wilmington, NC. He has an MFA in Creative Writing from Bowling Green State University in Bowling Green, OH, and has a book of poems available on Amazon.com, entitled Beyond Good and Evil (www.amazon.com/Beyond-Good-Evil-Jean-Jones/dp/0966917944/). All of today's poems were previously published in Aphelion Webzine (www.aphelion-webzine.com/poetry/2020/02/Thirst.html), with “thanks to Iain for all of his help in publishing me”, says Jean. Today he has brought us scary poetic stories of love and of his contact with COVID, as well as Halloween tales of Dracula and addiction. We're so glad to hear that you survived it all, Jean!
1960-2021
You were my friend, you wrote
on my birthday card
almost a month ago, and you,
along with my family,
were the only ones
who wished me a
happy birthday
Now you had your needs and desires
and I certainly found out what they were
and I know you would have hated
me writing about your business
to other people,
but you were my friend too.
You died the other night
and I was a witness to the aftermath
if not the main event—
I grabbed your hand in the ICU
and you tried your hardest to respond
but all you could manage were convulsions
vs. the humor and voice I was used to—
Now you're gone, and I don't have to hear
from you, asking me to drive you to Food Lion,
or the Dollar General, or church,
and I miss that.
I miss you.
I wish you were here,
but you're not.
It is what it is.
I miss you, my friend.
I'm glad to have known you;
as you mentioned in your card to me,
you felt God placed me here
to be in your life
and my response would have been
I'm glad God put me in your life.
I just wish he could have had
you live longer.
Bye, Darlene.
I'm glad to have met you.
I will miss your endless requests
and that needy voice of yours—
It will be peaceful for me.
And quiet.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO
—Jean Jones
At the hospital,
Looking from my bed, outside,
All this is my world—
All those in my life,
Family, friends and lovers,
All of this is mine—
____________________
Jean Jones is a part-time English as a Second Language Instructor at Cape Fear Community College in Wilmington, NC. He has an MFA in Creative Writing from Bowling Green State University in Bowling Green, OH, and has a book of poems available on Amazon.com, entitled Beyond Good and Evil (www.amazon.com/Beyond-Good-Evil-Jean-Jones/dp/0966917944/). All of today's poems were previously published in Aphelion Webzine (www.aphelion-webzine.com/poetry/2020/02/Thirst.html), with “thanks to Iain for all of his help in publishing me”, says Jean. Today he has brought us scary poetic stories of love and of his contact with COVID, as well as Halloween tales of Dracula and addiction. We're so glad to hear that you survived it all, Jean!
Jean Jones was first featured in Medusa’s Kitchen on 9/23/20 (medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/09/who-will-guard.html).
__________________
—Medusa
__________________
—Medusa
Jean Jones
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!