Biography of Jon Lloyd
I thought it was about time that I rewrote this. It’s not that I have anything more to say. It’s also not that I have anything less to say. It’s just that I wanted to replace one example of nothingness with another. It can be so satisfying sampling different slices of meaninglessness, don’t you think?
Jon Lloyd Poems
How Much Do I Love You?
'How much do I love you? ' I ask myself again. All the way to Jupiter, And half-way back again,
Each second leaves fall one by one to ground, And languidly caress their neighbours one By one, as if in fond farewell. The sun Still smiles, but weakly now, as though it’s bound
Arm: needle; Needle: arm. Can’t wait for you To become better acquainted.
A Puppet's Cry
Picked up once more, like marionette, And then flung down again. How can anyone forget That puppets too feel pain?
It's unlikely but true - Your physical attraction Entertains me On so many levels.
Can't let myself be crushed again, By the merciless indiscriminate beast called love. Won't let myself be pushed again,
Staring at the earth From the top of a tree - It is countless vile bodies Ripped at the seams.
Distant, But Not Forgotten
When I think of you so far away Across that stretch of sea, I cannot help but wonder if Sometimes you think of me.
I know you've heard some evidence - You think you've got the facts - But look into my eyes my love, Before you raise that axe.
Some say that self-destruction Lies just around the corner I say 'Fair play - that argument May just prove to be true,
Running frenzied through the forest Screams and bugle calls and howls Panic grips my fragile body Causing twisting in my bowels.
When the wind slaps your face and the rain blinds your eyes, when you're lost on a mountain in the fog with aching thighs,
I push the plunger home again and wait For multi-coloured patterns to gyrate... Off we go! I'm flying once again - 'Psychedelic Airtours - you won't return the same'.
you are my raincloud, my dark grey raincloud. you just depress me, when skies are blue.
It's unlikely but true -
Your physical attraction
On so many levels.
Your voice as smooth as slate
But subtle - soft and subtle -
And untarnished by locality
Draws my soul.