The amount donated
By the Govment.
For.
DrummmmmRollll....

(punchline)

***** Pumps.

No joke.

I get bored walking the treadmill..need scenic diversity..none of my senses live behind fences.
            
            Tunnel vision aint my
            Religion..peripheral all day.

Pretty flowers do have powers and blue skys captivate.
                 Woe is me.Not my cup of tea but a few sips are medicinal.

      Reality is jagged..
      People.Can hurt eyes closed or open.

Three lil monkeys chap my hide..wanna see the road when I go for a ride. P.C. ?
               Is half truth and half denial to me I'd rather eyeball reality..shaky knees and all.

       Call out, Fall out.
       Ball out.

Call it in.
Dial it up

Fly one for effect

Walk back one.
Wide right one.

Pound the ground.

Round by round.

Who
Needs
This **** ?

Just want to get
Home.

FIRE.

Considerably penalties
For early withdrawal.

Sending more advisors.
Vietnam redux 1954.

Reactionary by poll #s.

Afghan half stand.

Unemployment

Slow Redeployment.

You pick.

Nights are are quiet and cold to the touch
Gloomy lights in dusty rooms cast spectral doom as whirr and clank.
You took.
You pulled and ripped our love apart at the seams
Now powered by steam.

Dashed and splintered
So I Labour late and long into wintery nights to build from scraps of wood  iron  and steel.
A semblance so that I can once more feel and care.

A shiney gift to pull from
my chest. An offering.
Something that tics and clanks. Cold and dead ouside
Instead of pumping love
My Steampunk heart can only  cry  and scream .The loss of flesh and love for a loveless lifeless thing...my offering
The Steampunk Heart.

When we agreed to keep it simple and We both thought we had the formula The thing is you are not who you pretend to be and neither am  I so it was a sweet lie.
Honestly.
The Hidden tender and afraid in you found the yearning hopeful dreamer in me and it all fell away in moments of ecstasy. Words were spoken in weakness and the walls fell down brick by pound.
Funny thing about those fences.
Those well honed well worn cobblestones That we lay beneath our feet and forgot.
Now what ?
You with your crazy glued heart
me with my well buffed armor.
Funny thing we talked about our well sketched plans that made sense.
Hence ships passing was the default.
No harm no foul and live the moment.
How funny.
Should we call in the clowns
what now ?
That I cant go past minutes without seeing your walk in every crowd
What now that we find silly reasons to call for nothing at all but just to say hello and nothing more.
Reasons.
Why I cannot bear to be awake and apart from you and sleep is no rescue still.
How funny my love.
What now.
No turning now. No how
but forward holds no option.
still.
How funny.

Now master
Now clear water
Sunday salvation.

Seeker.

Teacher.

stronger now
Not weaker.

Its 10:04 now with the trees rustling in the warm California night.

Words are seeking. Expression right now. Brothers and sisters of the word linked around the orb.

Continents devide us but daily and nightly we find.
We seek to speak our language to each we reach.

Vast  terrain devides
We strain make words speak our inner beauty or pain.
In our darkened abodes.
In our hours of angst ... broken hearts...words that bleed our needs.

Lonely word messenjah
Looking out to the stars
Where are you speak.

A gusty night as I watch dreams take flight and rise above rooftop here
Take heart.
Brothers in the word.
Sisters knit and weave your tales let them flow like nimble fingers shaping yarn.

I cant feel the Earth's spinning.
Talk to me .
We are unique. We seek to make magic in meter and verse.
Stars twinkle as never seen
A clear night sky revealed.
I am one with forever.
And my kin.
Let the words  
Carry you lightly and forever.
Word
Messenjah.

Privilege precedes accountability.
Honda made motorcycles and
Fonda made propaganda news reels for the other side.
Americans died.

Your mouth speaks soft sincerity but my gut just whispers to me" let it ride"'

Sweet salvation in front  silken enemy inside.

Your eyes.
Invite.

You picked a side my lovely friend sight unseen who knows
What could have been.

Keeping you close now as my frenemy.
Frendship
Denied.

Nowadays we ..speak freely...feelweakly.

Nowadays we.. think freely... thank... fewly
Bask...rudly.

Nowadays we  ***** nitley...love litely...
Love fightly....

Nowadays we...Think fewly...talk..cool-ly
Do...small-ly

These days  we wise...litely...blaze...brightly...high
Highly...*****...drunkly.­..boogie... funkly.
TheseDays we...spend freely
Debt...really.
Today we...hide deeply...no sleeply.
Feel..me ?

Pulling chards and splinters from all four chambers all those missions.

All those submissions to loves demands.
Splinters deep fast asleep fast as a nordic frost setting deep in barren earth.

Rusted spikes driven in during days of sin. From brighter days and carefree obsessions. Keloids and scar tissue.

A do over ?

Ready.
Set.
Begin.

Man, I been admayrin that thing from small.
Before I even know what it called.
All island man an west indian love it so.
All the while was a kama sutra thing.
Originate from da Coolie man.

Puni mek man sell him soul
Give up money and comfort
Lose silver an gold.
Now dont get defensive nor play you card close.
See.
Is a natural beauty a gift send from heaven.
Ladies you got the best seat in da house.
Cause a good dose a puni mek man outa mouse.
Mek man beat up him chest.Roar like wild lion.
So
All praises due an nuff respec.
To the flower with power
Love ya ta death.

There be a sweet spot Aarrgh . A sweet spot rite betweem my eyes and my id where my mojo crawled off and hid.
And thats when I cant make It
do what it did before.
My writes feel like I'm I
batting lefty with a hefty bag dropped over my head.
              Cant write anything past my a,b,sees. Like scratching with 10 oz gloves laced on. Fuzzy.
                          Like music underwater.
All dry.All out.
All of reasons and whys...the words..mock me while sipping brandy. Cigar smoke wafting.
Easy chair. After all no sense to it. Just verbal diarrhea. Cunning illusions...sweet nothings.

Blessed am I
For
I am blessed
To have lived long
Longer than the rest

For stumble and falter did they,one and another.
Some were my sisters and some claimed me brother And some forsaw roads end
And some knelt at the alter
Of greed and libation and drugs and frustration
Standing apart or shoulder to shoulder
Falling away like wheat neath the scythe.
I grew and grew older.

Both by chance and choice
So I lift my goblet and voice .
A toast
To survivors guilt.
Never.
Karma has hawk's eyes and hound's ears.
And I  for my part am bereft of tears.

Neanderthal grunts,scratches and stands
Shades his eyes in salutary pose.
New daylight on the horizon.The fisherman sits on sand mending nets to cast into rippling sun kissed tide.
The man in valley gathers This flock in shade of green shade sunkist hills where rolling blankets sweet grass abounds.

Ancient Orient glimmers like  polished stone.Stands watch across vast open plains momentum grows while the blazing orb labours to climb to do it's work.

Battle lines drawn as thousands stand fixed in gleaming light. Swords of bronze and chariots poised to beckon perdition. The rising sun as witness.

High above the stricken crowd stands the priest in wondrous plumage a crimson river runs down the stone. He sands alone a dagger in his right hand the still beating heart in left.
The Sun god requires.

The ground spins silently below us. The sky rolls by in concert.
The golden god he whispers to all, arises swiftly and then he falls to sleep.

Dictates our every breath..morsel that man eats.
Bow.
Worshipping none.

My suit felt light and airy as.I siddled up to the lady.

Others were already there standing well dressed and reverent. So I stepped up closer and looked in.

Squared Away lady in a pink satin dress. She held a pink rose in her left hand a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
Years to rest.
Done with living this chapter. Spent of giving.
Eternal rest
A rose clutched tightly.
Softly sleeping in her vessel.
Journey for eternity.

Sermon spoken.
Hymns sung softly.
The journey does end for
The squared away lady.

My first glance and last
Of the squared away lady.

Old as creation. THE CRADLE.
This is Africa.
Musky and dank.THE GRAVE.
This is Afrika.

Vast as eternity.THE ECHO.
Echo.
This is Africa.
Verdant and green.
All points between.
STARVATION.Rampant.
This is Africa.

Machete vicious.Zebra and Gazelle.Heaven walks into hell.
Afrika as well

FREE UNTAMED.
And T.I.A
This
Is
Afrika.

Morning dew lites cool on my shoulder. Look, it settles like a frosty shawl.
Cool air drifting in to mingle with yesterdays warmth.

The crimson creeps skyward to reclaim the day. Cool morn stillness will soon be washed away.
Blessed nights and dreams dissolve as rising warmth brings forth new love.

I dont know how to say goodbye to a man I never knew.
Clifton. Tail gunner ,Lancaster bomber.
1942.

I tried to write his story but I came up short. Black man fighting to free the world in his Majesty's air corps.
1944

A man who answered the call.
One of many. One of a kind.
A man from the colonies..Belizean..
Family man, father, patriot.

Has fired his last round.
R.I.P.

To tufted ground he fell but he was smiling on the way down
he must have seen it coming and cashed in his chips,Maxed out his cards, used up his frequent flyers.
The landing was in slow motion and he seemed to like it.

I saw the Last Mohican  pull down his Wiki yup. He had a knowing smirk. All in a days work pay me later or pay me now.A casino or two for genocide in lieu. But what can a guy do when his number plays ?

I saw Robin Williams Throw up his hands. God I loved that man but it was no surprise. Too many voices in that chock filled head.He and Johnny winters cut from the same cloth.

I saw The Man In the Moon wink last night.The orb burned bright and the loons craned their necks to catch a glimpse. The tide battered the shore meanwhile and the Raven croaked "Nevermore" in the silvery light of the shadow painted night. "Nevermore"

I heard  the gusting wind last night as it wiped the face of Kilimanjaro and dusted the Sahara in shimmering specs of glassy sand. A solitary Date palm surrendered tasty fruit to the grateful earth.
Joe Camel had a flying fig as he puffed an unfiltered and blew smoke rings thing of beauty and skill.

I heard the Howling wolf far up in the pines last night to no one in particular,just doing what nature dictated. He looked around slowly for approval, got none then sang his song again after clearing his throat.  

I smelled the tangy scent of burning Rome on the hill as politicians fiddled for the lobbyists and corporate constrictors.  The Senators donned fresh togas and drank heady wine from golden goblets.
"Let them eat cake"
Same arrogance, different century.

I ran down to the river to wash the blood from my wounds and seek shelter. A pack of sprinting  zombies in hot  pursuit. Good thing they can't swim. A pound of flesh each was more than I could pay and live.
I. incessant
R. ravenous
S.Sharks      

I pulled my coat tight around me and leaned into a stiff ill wind as
Down the road I go.
By the way what does an ill wind blow ?

Those early morning sermons
With foam and salty sea spray
Churning.
The cool receding water with sand thinning between my toes and seagulls.wheeling in azure ectasy.
When days seemed unending.
When
Strolling miles unending to find treasures washed ashore.Driftwood and natures wonders presented as shells as gifts long dormant on timeless ocean floor where creations song did sing along to things unseen. When living life was just a dream
Carefree.
Then burning sun dipped slow and quenched its daily thirst in western leisure
And then proceeded.
Seeking rest so sorely needed when busy day was done.
Brilliant rippling orange blood red repose..sinking sun meets nurturing sea.
When day was done.
To slumber and rise in eastern skies
Another morning dawning
Sweet surprises..I awake and the sun also rises. Anew
When dreams they fade another
Round.Another day.
When life is there on full display to walk on sandy shores feel and taste the bracing air at rising.
At best and basic.
Nature fulfills each promise given.
When ?
Always.

Gone fishing out to lunch with my expression all said but not done it was a fix for the torture Of one thousand cuts.
        Limits.
A hollow sound in my  verbal shriek as weak drivel slides from my creative psyche.
           Barren.
Shallow...low dynamic the wick flickers
         Rhyme laid down his sabre as reason goes treasonous.my friend had deserted me made a break for the concession stand you see misery loves company. On another note.
Remote wisps of a clarion call focuses me none at all.
Rambling.
Stumble to the shimmering oasis where cool water ripples.
Trickery.
Pause.
Breath.see it ?
Just another stop along the way.
One foot follows the other.
Till the coil retires.
**** it.
A recurring dream.
Reboot.
Rewind.
Do it to the end.
And again.

What does one do when love leaves never to return no matter how willing the flesh might be. You see,she sleeps the sleep.
I gave her a piece of my heart to keep. Clutched to her breast wrapped in  the silken scarf that I gave her.
To keep.
Her amber and curling hair wind whipped as we walked along the Wharf that day...  A constant beauty as she brushed it from her face. Her eyes perturbed but her upturned mouth still smiled. I kissed her gently and  told her that I loved her and I did. Deeply.
Still.
Blessed to have loved her cursed to have lost her. She took a portion of my heart to slumber.
Years have passed me by,I can't recall the number.it beats in my chest still but stricken. Cursed to never love this way again.
The sweet spirit of her does not desire this nor require this. A penance for I broke her heart and lost her to the reaper.
Nights I lay beside her and watched her peacefull slumber. A roadmap drawn of every line and curve...she was much more than I deserved..fate proved me right.
Goodnight my sweet
My heart is in your hands..now and until we meet.

I was youthful and dull
Like an empty vessel.
I was youthful and bright
Like a blinding light
Truely.

I was young and arrogant, ignorant of my arrogance
But with good heart and intent. Unrepentant in my venting.Unrepenting and blinded by my own light.
Now

Know what I know
Inner direction.
Instinct weaned of pain and experience.
Still as a cadaver breathless almost.As the wild world turns.
I read the writing on the four walls..the room spins slowly..
Graffiti ?
The odds on the outcome are in my grasp each step a casual stroll on burning embers.
The smell of my own burning flesh will help me to remember the tally.
Wisdom for it's own sake.

Ignorance is no excuse so
Turn slowly
Burn brightly
Eternity waits eternally.

Both north and south
East and west.
In tempest and typhoon a surly wind doth *******
this way and that.
In truth there is great beauty.
Good follows ill as the sun warms the chill. The rising sun chases shadows to ground as predator stalks it's prey.

Seasons of plenty following famine.
No win
No lose.
Cycles...seasons come and go.

The days ticked by like the audible second hand of her watch. A quick and halting surge and pause.Each one unique holding for the next.
She lived the moment
She loved the lights.

Breathing in love, exhaling
Hope.tomorrows stuck to the refigerator door with doctors appointments
Prescriptions and pills and potions.
Still there
Yellowed paper now
Reminders of her before the grounding.

****** needed some remedials.
         A b sees and one two threes.
        Some tables and basics
        Lasix...for a swollen ego.
We go.
We  went
We gone.

A wash and wrinse... a manipedi. Exfoliate.
                 Real .
                 Uncluttered.
                 To the quick.

Too many lifetimes posing
A heart that forgot
The forget me nots.
Too many summer in the blazing sun
Many bone chilled winters.
Howling storms became the norm
Sooo.Gold stars and paper cuts
Elmers glue to start anew
Baby.
Kids need cookies and milk.
Hearts need to be gentle as spun silk.
Open like Dr Sues and simple.
Like popping your first
Pimple.
Simple.

In Dying the streets are paved with Diamonds the gutters flow red wine.
In Dying.
There are trees hung low with golden fruit. The Hills sparkle in the noonday sun. There on the hills of Dying.
In Dying,freedom is priceless but costs nothing. All wishes come true in Dying and there is is no word for pain in Dying but the next town over is brutal.
Dont Stop of in Slow Death.
Too much screaming and
The wait is long for service.

Makes demons scatter
They cower in distant lands and await skyfall when only incandescence provide small detours but never refuge.
Sleep ?
Is a demon's bazar
They whirl and cavort  gleefull that I have let them in on these rare occasions,much lost time to recapture.

Spectacular spectres. Portents.unbridled daymares with thundering flashing hooves,they gallop with boots reversed in silver stirrups.

A bagpipe dirge is on rotation as goblins and cadavers saunter in with dead carnations pinned where lapels should have been but by  now  only rotting and putrid skin.

Chain lightenin creases the night.
An eerie glowing light pulastes from atop twin peaks.Castle Frankenstein sits one hundred feet above the witches haunt. An antlike procession crawls to and fro between. Lost souls seeking refuge or small comfort.

Here puppy puppy ....
Nice doggie.....no... no...
Good boy.... fetch.... come....come... STAY ?
Ahhh ****.
Usually female  sometimes a Man...ish.
Loving dogs more than people.... over comitted to making Rover roll over.
Tricks for treats.
Scoobie snacks for low self eztteeemers.
Johnny wont behave or comply.
Get a dog or a ****.
Dogs are faitfull  even when ya kickem. All paws and tongue. Never ever singing WE SHALL OVERCOME

I must be schizophrenic but I caint say four shore.

There's this other Other that writes poems as if I'm not sitting here. He makes me write things that I.don't understand
he sits on my shoulder. Pushes my hand like a Houdini illusion
Pops up unannounced and bounces.
Works at his leisure.
Comes and goes as he pleases.
I think Im schizophrenic.

I'm on the rag this evening
No shame in my game
On the rag ladies...my Hismones are raging
Touchy as a wet hen
P-Owed.
Wanna scratch a mfkrs eyes out for breathing.
Ahhh... sorry it's my  monthly.
Yes we get balsy as haale.
Gotta squash it cause
Ragtime aint real. No free passes...can't say what we feel. Bully boy.
Cant.keep.it real.
Need a gallon of chocolate Iscream an a Chick flik... Naahhmean ?
O.k think I'll just lock my door and cry.
These feckin blue ball cramps are a turble thang.
But when it's all said and done.
I gotta let my nuts hang.