Posts Tagged ‘jean jones’

I should talk about an update to my blog also. I’ll do that in my next post.

The Angel of Death – Poetry by Jean Jones

I just published a pdf version of this collection with three recent additions by Jean Jones to his long running collection of poetry. Jean had asked me over a week ago to do this. Well, it’s finally available on Word Salad. You can find it by going here and then selecting it from the list. The heading to this paragraph has a link that goes right to the publication. It is in pdf format for printing or download. Perhaps there will be a second edition with more poems and maybe some kind of additional material.

A New Look for Word Salad

Perhaps we even need a new name for the site… not really. The site is named Word Salad. We have a quarterly poetry publication called Word Salad Poetry Magazine (we also have a quarterly of Haiku called Haiku Ramblings). You will also find a few back issues of Word Salad Poetry Magazine in our archives. Actually, we only have the poetry from the past issues available. Much of the rest of the content was duplicated with each edition. Word Salad as a website is larger now. We publish much more on the website. As noted in the above paragraph, we have numerous poetry collections available on the site.

In addition, I see this as becoming a community site with various resources. I have installed a wiki, similar to what you see on wikipedia.org. I called it Wordopedia for Word Salad’s wiki. We just articles to be written for this. I’ve installed “Community Builder” to make the site into a “Community” website. Users can enter a fuller profile and many more features will be available for interacting with others. More on this later.

I have tried to include many of the exciting features of today’s Social Web. As a web designer/developer professional working today, I have to take advantage of all these resources and it only seems natural to share what I am learning.
For social image file sharing (sharing pictures) I use flickr.com and use that to host images that are displayed on Word Salad. My home page, as it were, on flickr is here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/brucewhealton/ and my profile on flickr is here: http://www.flickr.com/people/brucewhealton/.
For social bookmarking I use del.icio.us and my page on delicious is here: http://del.icio.us/brucewhealton

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This past Saturday, in Carrboro, near Chapel Hill, NC, poets Jean Arthur Jones and David Capps read some of their poetry for about 30 minutes each and the performance by both was stunning! Before I review that, let me tell you about the open-mike portion of the event, which came first.

We had poetry by David Grinstead, Jane Penland Hoover, Ricky Garni and Margaret (I forget her last name). We also had the music of John Fallon. We each read twice with about 3 poems each. I read a one or two new poems and some poems that had been picked up for publication as well as poems from my collection “What Really Matters,” which is awaiting final edits and introduction by Thomas Childs. We do have some video of this section of the event as well.

We then had a great performance by David Capps. I hadn’t seen too many David Capps readings and so I was glad to be here tonight. David is a very dynamic reader when presenting his poems to a crowd. I also enjoyed the discussions that David gave behind the different poems, their meaning to him and his inspiration. It was also nice to hear some history about David Capps, as well. Very enjoyable! Look for videos of this event that I will present. I’ll keep you posted on this.

Jean Jones read a variety of poetry as well. While Jean did offer less of a discussion than David did in his portion of the reading, Jean did provide us with some interesting stories and background behind some of his poems. Jean read from a few of his collections. He read from “The Birds of Djakarta,” published by St. Andrews Press and published by Bruce Whealton on Word Salad (Word Salad Publications is here: http://wsmagazine.net/zine/word-salad-publications.html). He also read from his Angel of Death series, which has been published by Scott Urban as well as by Bruce Whealton on Word Salad Publication.. Lastly, he wrapped up with some poetry from his latest collection “Post Mortem: New and Selected Poems.” This latest collection is also featured on Word Salad Publications, with editing and an Introduction by Scott Urban.

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Here’s a posting I got from Jean Jones, author various “Angel of Death” poems.
People’s New Testament

9:11 They had a king over them. The real king was not the star, but the power of
the bottomless pit.

Apollyon. The destroyer; either the devil or one of his angels.

updated 5:38 p.m. ET, Thurs., Aug 27, 2009
OKLAHOMA CITY – Whoever killed a pastor inside her small Oklahoma church
“staged” the body, authorities said Thursday, meaning it was moved into an
unnatural position after the slaying.

Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation spokeswoman Jessica Brown declined to
elaborate on how the body of 61-year-old Carol Daniels was positioned inside the
Christ Holy Sanctified Church in Anadarko.

Brown also said investigators are reviewing video surveillance tapes from a
nearby convenience store for clues in the brutal killing. A preliminary autopsy
found she died of “multiple sharp force injuries,” and a veteran local
prosecutor described the crime scene as “the most horrific” he’s ever witnessed.

THE ANGEL OF THE BOTTOMLESS PIT

I WAS SUMMONED. THE TIME IS AT HAND.

THE STARS ARE RIGHT. I HAVE BEEN AWAKENED,

AND DOZENS UPON DOZENS HAVE DIED TO SUMMON AND AWAKEN ME.

THERE WAS A WOMAN, ALONE IN THE CHURCH.

SHE SCREAMED. SHE WOULDN’T STOP SCREAMING.

ALL THIS BLOOD, SPURTING FROM THEIR BODIES.

ALL THEY ARE, ARE BALLOONS, FILLED WITH BLOOD.

ONE SCRATCH, AND THEY BURST OPEN, FILLING THE ROOM WITH THEIR BLOOD.

SUCH USELESS CREATURES.

IT WAS A GOOD THING I WAS SUMMONED.

I PLACED HER AS I WAS TOLD.

THE MASTER SAYS THERE ARE MANY MORE TO GO.

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Here’s a poem by Jean Jones. Jean writes: A made for order Angel of Death poem based on reality”
And quoting for the UK’s “Telegraph” newspaper (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/northamerica/usa/6080582/Model-murder-suspect-Ryan-Jenkins-was-a-good-guy-businessman.html):

“Model murder suspect Ryan Jenkins was a ‘good guy’ businessman

But the manner of his death could have been scripted for TV: as police
investigated the murder suspect’s suicide at a secluded Canadian motel, they
launched a manhunt for the mysterious young woman had checked in with him. The
dramatic end came at an isolated motel at the edge of British Columbia’s
mountainous interior, on the outskirts of Hope, a town known for its giant
wooden carvings made with chainsaws and as the site of the first bloody Rambo
movie. . .

The motel manager said the woman paid cash for three nights and when the couple
didn’t check out, he unlocked the room and found him dead.

“I cracked the door and there he was, hanging there in front of me, feet
touching” the floor, Walker said. “He definitely wanted to die. I smelt death.”

THE ANGEL OF DEATH CHECKS IN AT A LOCAL MOTEL

“You did well, Ryan, you did well. I liked the business with the teeth and
fingers. Pretty through.”

“I’m so tired, so tired.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, tell me all about it.”

“There’s not much to tell. The killing went by quickly. It was cutting her up
that took up so much time and trouble.”

“I bet you couldn’t believe that they used her breast implants to identify her
body!”

“That bitch.”

“I told you to cut off her breasts.”

“I was done cutting.”

“Well, we’re safe now. Near mommy and daddy.”

“I want to go to sleep, to forget, to sleep forever. . ”

“That will come soon enough, darling. Listen, I need for you to get some rope
from the trunk of the car.”

“Rope?”

“We have one final thing to do.”

“And that is?”

“To wrap a pretty picture and story for the media. I mean, I have a reputation
to keep.”

“Who are you?”

“Let’s not go over that, shall we? Suffice it to say that I’m one of your
Calgary ‘girlfriends.’”

“But I don’t remember you.”

“But I do you. I like the spectacular ones, and boy, you are spectacular.”

“What do you want me to do now?”

“Get the rope and follow my instructions.”

“Will I get rest then?”

“Yes indeed, my darling, yes indeed. . . ”

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This post will include the poem written by Jean Jones, to me (or more accurately, by the Angel of Death to me) below my poem.

Premise of the poem… I had this idea in my mind of how I might respond to the Angel of Death even before she wrote to me. I was reading poems from the collection, “The Angel of Death” by Jean Jones, or had read these poems many times over the years. I was thinking about how my concept of death, were it to be personified would be something very different. I had these thoughts about death that I didn’t like very much at all. For Jean, I know this from a very old interview with Jean on this collection, the Angel of Death is a very powerful and very real entity, for lack of a better word. While I’ve never seen or experienced anything that would convince me that there is any such Angel, when I read the poems, during the reading, she is very real… When I read Jean’s poems, my experience is such that it is as if the Angel of Death were real at that moment.

Perhaps this letter is to Jean or the Muse that speaks through Jean.

Letter to the Angel of Death

I
don’t really have
much
of a belief
in
Angels or Demons,
having never
seen any,
as far as I can tell.

Yet,
in your Angel of Death poems,
Jean,
just
for a moment,
in
the reading of those words
the
Angel of Death
is
very much alive
and
real.

To the Angel of Death:

I’ve
always
feared
you;
so
much so
that
I thought
I
could write
you
out of existence

and
while I’ve tried
various
methods
to
deny your existence
I’ve
come to
recognize
you.

I
recognize you
as
that which would
keep
me up at night,
as a boy,
afraid
that if I were to fall
asleep,
I’d
never awaken.

I
would hide
under
my covers,
as
a very young boy
hoping
that if you came
to
my home,
you
would not find me,
like
you did those Egyptian
boys
in Biblical times.

How
I hated you!
You
were a challenge
to
my faith and everything
in
which I needed to
believe.

I suppose
it would come
as
no surprise
to
learn
that
I am still afraid of the dark…
afraid
you might be there
trying
to sneak up on me,
as
if I could keep you away.

I
know you were there
the
other night -
I
recognize your presence,
your
hypnotic voice

in
my mind saying,

“Imagine
no thoughts,
no
images and no sounds -
Nothingness.”

At
that thought,
my
eyes snapped open.

It’s
always been my fear -
that
empty nothingness -
the
place
where
dreams end
beyond
the universe…
beyond
everything.

By Bruce Whealton
June 5, 2009

The following poem is by Jean Jones who has produced a lengthy collection entitled "The Angel of Death."

Letter to Bruce

Bruce, darling,

you think that all the words you put up on the screen
will save you from me.  It won't.
You think that all those words you put up on the screen
will give your life meaning and purpose.  It won't.
You think that things will turn out all right in the end.
It won't.  See I know your fears, Bruce,
I know you worry that everything is meaningless, that there is no God,
that you will die alone.  What if I were to tell you
all that is true and will happen?  What would you do then?
Remember, I hold out my hand to you,
and at any time, any moment, you can reach out and touch it.
When you walk down the street, in the face of oncoming traffic,
I'm waving at you
from the closest nearby car.  Run out to me, I say.
I am waiting.  Waiting for you, for when you get tired of that
pretense of life, of hope, of all things that are not me.
Run to your church.  It will give you no solace.  When you stare up
at the ceiling, you will see me, a grinning skull, looking back at you.
When you close your eyes, my black hair and dark eyes will haunt you
and haunt you, until, when you wake up, you will have wondered if I
spent the night with you, and I would have, and when you look outside your window,
on the fifth floor of your apartment, looking down, I will be at the bottom,
waving at you, telling you to jump.

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People have been publishing poetry magazines on the web for some time.  During this time, the online version of a magazine, made me think that perhaps the name “magazine” didn’t fit for what we were publishing.  I’m very open to new ways of looking at things but a magazine just didn’t quite seem like the word to describe an online publication of poetry.  That has changed.  I found a new tool, or application, that creates online books and magazines on the web.  They run in the Flash player on the web.  I wasn’t worried about that because 98% or thereabouts, of all internet users have the required version of this software, necessary to run these applications,  installed on their computer, and so they are going to see what I publish just as I intend it to appear.

So, this tool, or type of tool (there are different designs that implement this in very similar ways), presents on the web page, an interactive application that looks like a magazine or book.  You can have a cover, and then open up the book to different pages.  When you open up the book/magazine (let me use book as a general term to refer to magazines or books in this format), you see  a two page spread.  One can even include the sounds of turning  a page.  One can drag the corner of a page or click on the next button to move to the next page.  I find it very exciting and creative.  I feel I can be creative with this application or type of application.

To see an example of how this works and how I implemented this on Word Salad please click on this link here:  http://wordsaladpoetrymagazine.com/VolumeXIVNoIV/books-published-by-word-salad.html
I setup two categories.  The first category will be for the different versions of Word Salad that are published on the site, specifically, Volume XIV, No IV, the winter 2008-2009 edition.  I will be adding other editions as well, in that category.  I’ll post the next upcoming edition as a book/magazine in this format, soon after the newest edition of Word Salad comes out next on March 21, 2009, and then I’ll add other previous issues as options that you can view here.  The other category is titled “Other Poetry Publications.”  Here I have published two collections of poetry by Jean Jones and one by myself.  These are not complete yet, as new pages are being added.  These collections by Jean Jones, for example, which were published by St. Andrews press, have additional poems included.

Again that link is:  http://wordsaladpoetrymagazine.com/VolumeXIVNoIV/books-published-by-word-salad.html

Allow me to add that this software, needed to implement this, is not free.  So, we are asking for donations or to support us, please purchase a print version of Word Salad on our Lulu.com storefront here:  http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=2331883

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“Gifts” is the title of a poem that I wrote recently.  I don’t really know what made me think of these things.  I don’t know what brought my mind back to something that happened back on 1992, some 17 years ago.  It was April when I moved to Wilmington, NC.  It sometimes feels much more recent than 17 years ago…  much more recent.  It seems like I had an entire life before that and that I had become someone different back then.  Well, I called it a defining time.  I had not thought of myself as a poet prior to that – not really.

Now I think it is significant that in the book I published on Word Salad entitled “Being a Poet” which is available here:  http://wordsaladpoetrymagazine.com/VolumeXIVNoIV/books-published-by-word-salad/book/5-on-being-a-poet-collection-by-bruce-whealton/4-other-poetry-publications.html
I use a number of images of the beach.  One reason is that this was a defining moment in my development as a poet.  It is a turning point.  At the same time that I moved to Wilmington, NC from South Carolina, I not only found a new life, and a new home, but I also began for the first time to see myself as a poet.  Almost immediately after moving to a new city alone, for the first time ever, I read my own poetry to a group of people.  I remember within just a few months, someone influential to me, referred to me, in speaking to someone else, as a poet.  That was Jean Jones… it’s strange the little things one remembers.  That first time, reading poetry, attending poetry readings, was at the “Coastline Convention Center” in Wilmington, NC.  Dusty was the MC back then and as I said in the poem, “Gifts” Jean Jones was the contact person, listed in the paper.  Jean Jones, of course, is my co-editor with Word Salad Poetry Magazine.

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I remember that first time,
when I stood at a podium
in front of others
to read my poetry -
It was April 1992.

Two people helped
make this happen.
Jean Jones was listed
as the contact person,
in the newspaper,
for the poetry reading
at the Coastline Convention Center.

He told me that
“yes, people come to read
their own poems”
and that Dusty
was the MC.

It’s funny what you remember.
I remember knowing Jean
was a skilled, educated poet,
though I cannot remember
what it was precisely
that led to this assessment.
I remember those first few poems
that I shared with him,
in the hopes that his
advice or guidance
would help me feel better
about my poems
or about myself as a poet -
that’s what I mean to say,
this was a defining time.

I don’t know what
would have happened,
how my life might have been different,
were it not for Dusty, also.
She said our poems
are GIFTS!
Wow!

So this one is for you –
Jean, Dusty…
for what it is worth
to either of you.
I hope this matters to you
and that in some way
I make an impression -
a positive impression -
on you.

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