Jon Stone

Too much poetry is supposed to be humorous and hence not serious, or else serious and hence not humorous. Much harder and much more fruitful to aim for both and neither.




Bullshit-Related Injuries in the A&E

On the gurney, unconscious: man stabbed in the chest with
I’m not a racist but. Surgery is on its way. Pulse a bird’s blink.

Trauma room, haemorrhage induced by gave away their human rights
when they
. “Give me 4 units of O neg, hang two on the rapid infuser.”

The man whose head’s been Morris-danced into bandages,
battered repeatedly in the street with lunacy of the PC brigade.

That broken striplight’s giving everyone a migraine. Same story
in the MIU – minor wounds caused by household affronts to truth:

It’s not you, it’s me in the eye. Thumb-tip lost to
it’s going to be different this time. Tour de force’d while reading.

One of the surgeons discovers the I’m not a racist but victim
has also been assaulted with traditional British values.

It’s Friday. They’re bringing in another just not natural casualty
“John. John, can you hear me. Airway looks clear.”

“What’s her BP?” “Pulse ox is 82.”
It’s not as bad as the day they blew up an asylum seekers

are treated better than the rest of us.
Limbs torn clean off. Blood on every pane of glass.


Jon Stone is one of the editors of London-based poetry journal and art zine Fuselit. His writing has appeared in a wide variety of journals, as well as the occasional glossy magazine for good measure. Outside of poetry, his hobbies also include graphic and web design, and as well as the Fuselit site he also maintains a site for curious minor writing projects at