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Do you think a girl could love a boy who writes for her a million poems?  That's what I plan to do.
All day!  Shaka brah!
Downtown Long Beach....Fender's ballroom...what a bash...every weekend burn and crash.  Angry Samoans, The Germs, Ramones, Descendants, FEAR, UK Subs, Exploited, the ****** Vandals, DRI, Dead Kennedys....the Circle Jerks....I saw all these bands and many many more before i was 16.  Sporting a white mohawk or black liberty pulls pushing pulling shoving slamming....those were the days.
"Pendleton, Lighting Bolt board shorts, Hawaiian Print Vans and a handle-bar moustache".  Wow....and listening to the Dead South.  "Get a load of gramps!" shouts some 20 something punk as the tanned "mom didn't dress me" hipster orders an Arrogant ******* Ale.  
"I'll still kick your *** ya ****** snotty *** kid" he mutters.
The Cars, Jethro Tull, ELO, Stones, Sabbath, Blondie.....yeah you might of heard of them but I had these artists on 8-track.

8 years old sitting in the boat of a brown and green station wagon.... Saudade
In Hell I'll Be in good Company

****** love couldn't go no further.  Proud of and disgusted by her.  Push on a little bruise and battered. Ohh Lord baby, I ain't coming home with you.

My life's a bit more colder,  ****** wife is what I told her. Brass knife sinks into my shoulder....ahhh no baby don't know what I'm gonna do

I see my red head, messed bed, tear shed, queen bee, my squeeze. The stage it smells, tells, hell bells, miss spells, knocks me on my knees.

It didn't hurt flirt blood squirt stuffed shirt hang me on a tree.  After I count down three rounds in hell I'll be in good company.

©The Dead South
Relief.... belief in me
One being...million eyes... someone here as omniscient as omnipotent as God.  Now I'm completely lost...but do I have the years of life left to truly understand this's a billion page novel and I still have to cook.
I am an ancient soul older than the firmament and the stars.  Its almost time to go home now but there's still resistance as my spirit's eye has become accustomed to this physical realm and the poet in me longs to  disclose all the secrets I hold from my thousands of lives.
white wall patch on the floor a lonely broom in a corner, two
ft. from a crooked door. 

the foundation's cracked and slowly sinking. 110, hot, yet the sun has set & here I sit, alone,
just thinking.

the saying goes there's reason for all... missed my flight perhaps to answer some cosmic call.

these moments of solitude are golden hand beckons me to procure pen and paper. the walls are all prepped no more need for a scraper.

so out pour the words, like a can of paint, flowing onto the
paper smoothly, with no restraint.
Stuck in Fort Worth 2018
More crazy mind connections....the same poets all liking each other are the only ones I see...same names...same topics same genderless identities same love preachers stuck in hell and darkness.
In my garage
I have an altar
to all my fallen
brothers, sisters
and friends.....
they keep telling me
...follow you dreams...
you're nowhere
near the end.
Have I become some verses on a page already or am I the next and final lover?  Your choice but you know my wishes.
Preferisco un amore forgiato nell'inferno che ascende al cielo di quello fatto nel paradiso che cade all'inferno
This does not mean what you means, to me, that a stronger love/bond can be found when two souls find each other in hell and hand in hand help each other out and eventually reach the sky....bathing in amazement of the love and light...Stronger than a match made in heaven with no where to go but down.  Take my hand my broken lover... let's take the world together
I'll be at the edge of the Angeles National Forest, in Altadena right above Canon Street for the next two days.... come and get me death squad... I'll be waiting.  Just be ready for a fight.
Or love or like it or even words are for me.....I will not answer.
What happened to "you can ring my bell, ring my bell....dingalingaling"

©Anita Ward
Lord spare the young and innocent please... take me instead for I have lived a full and blessed life and should be made to pay for my sins before the one whose listless body lies prone now. Breath life into those wheezing lungs and pour me the cup that is now before her.  Hear me God, hear me please and I shall cease my Blasphemy and place my soul in your hands...take me not her.
I have it tough you see....
my dad thought
long and hard
bout the name
he'd give me.

Since he was M.A.N.
and I was first born,
does that make
me the Son of man?
I digress so don't
let me regress,
tangentially rant or
cause you any stress.

My father decided on
the French version
of his middle name;
I was thusly
anointed Antoine.

Being the first,
they expected a lot
but I guess they
had picked the right one.

It means beyond praise
and in those early days
as a prodigy child
everyone thought
I'd be The One.
ANu day dawned and
ANu it was gone when
my hand tried a Poem
like Poe's........... instead of
using my own,
ANu type of prose.
This ends a string of poems I was forced to write by my hand.  If you care to read the whole rampage....begin at Not Poe then skip up to The Coconspirators and watch as my hand gets full of himself
ANu de girl
dat made me twirl
ANd made
my moustache curl

She winked at me
I got knock-kneed
and had to
smoke some ****

It worked indeed
she puffed with me
then we both
watched this tale unfurl
More fun with words and my name
I put out ANu
ad for aMuse
The first girl to ANswer
hANded me ANude
Wow, Jesus, dude...
I don't know what to do...
I was just looking
for a chuckle or two.
ANu dei dawns..  
                         .      '      .
                  .                           .
                .                               .
His name is Antoine
Careful don't read out loud more than once....its a spell.  Delusions of grandeur!!!!
I apologize on behalf of all poets to all poets who feel they have been slighted by one or another poet's hand.  There is no hate, only's just that one and only one gets more love than the rest.... that's because her love is the best.
Again ...late nite addition so none you haters can use this against me....this poem is for the one and only Speed Demon Angel
You're two goddesses rolled into born of the foam of the sea, the other, the moon ....... And protector of children, animals... me.
To my Star Above festooned in love...the speed demon angel
Thank you God for my little dog
Thank Lord for not being bored
Thank you Mary for fighting off the wicked fairies.
Thank you me from the sneezes
Thank you me for peeing on a tree.
Art is my salvation
a gift to cure my soul
Catharsis from creation
Pens and brushes
make me whole
Laughter lends its colors
to a dark and dreary Life
Light invades my spirit
and eases what was strife
2016 epiphany  about my creative side

Bit the bait
Big rebate
******* skate
Running late
Potential mate
Blind date
Recessive trait
Ill fate
Hell's gate
I hate
Heart rate
Clean slate....

Just playing like kids in a sand box....anything goes
The phone rings...
Carlos - Hey brother
....just calling to let ya know H
passed away last night...asthma attack... couldn't revive em.
Me - what the ****.... we're falling like Dominoes bro.  Man...I didn't get a chance to tell him I forgave him.... Here's to you Harry.... your fight is over...see you on the other side.
My friends are falling like flies....Don't bottle the **** up....cuz there's no way to say those words when they're gone.
Balance your life with extremes to truly know this realm.
There's a magical trail up in Marin runs from the coastal mountains down to the sea.  Many moons ago 15 ****** fools embarked on a journey to celebrate the coming union of my Berkeley hippie to his New York queen.

Yes this was his wish ..his bachelor party!  No broads, no **** and *** just 15 fools drinkin beer each with an ounce if was the best party one could have.

I fell behind....mesmerized by something that intrigued me....a Little yellow slug staring up at me.  So ugly it was beautiful...I studied as it slowly trudged across the trail.  The eyes the color the hypnotizing tail.  I wanted to pick it up and put it in my pocket...but this kind of beauty is meant for all to see.  So I spoke to the slug and said farewell...I love you so much I'll set you free.

It's been more than ten years but if I ever return....that banana slug will be looking for me.
John Muir Trail - love all my NorCal boys...peace.  I hecka miss you all!  My hippie...I'm coming up to Seattle to sleep on the floor for a bit...just like old times Dave!
Rub a dub dub me and Bubba in the tub making mud.  Scrub scrub scrub so we won't be such grubs.
Que ya no aguanto el deseo.
Went to the corner ..I was hecka Changged
Ud. con su arte y yo con mí arte así que no se apene que aquí escojo el mejor.  Ojalá tengan patas de perro porque perro que no sale no encuentra hueso que roer.  Y si sufres por cualquier razó mal que no tiene cura hazle la cara dura. Y por fin acá nadie le va decir que deje de mamar gallo, bien pueda que yo no les fallo.
Bienvenida a uds. los escritores de la
Pale ale
India Pale Ale
Brown Ale
Wheat Ale
Malt liquor
Triple Bock
Lambics....should I go on about beer.?
So tomorrow I wear black for the 5th time this year.  Wonder if I'll be the one they're bidding farewell to next.  When death comes, I'll have no fear.
And the Limo gest keeps driving further and further, faster and faster away from ANu truth.  A maniacal little red bird driving fast.... real the hills of northern California.  And me on foot with my butterfly net trying to catch it.
I'll still catch her if she'll fall!  But never cage her soul at all.
Sometimes we gouge our eyes out to see what we can't believe
Bonne nuit ma chérie poésie. Il est un peu tardé et
j'ai besoin de dormir. 
Je suis tres fatigué,
mon crayon est cassé et
ma main ne peut plus écrire.
Les esprits du sommeil
et la nuit m'appelle au lit.
An attempt using the little French I remember from high-school.  Feedback on my rusty French greatly appreciated thanks
Yeah....gotta bow out for a real things to do.
Sticky itchy skunky stinky.....puff puff puff puff no need to give.... Colby's got his own big fatty as we slowly trim.
But boy it's getting warm up here ....time for second breakfast....toss me one Dem cold ones before the I load the bow for deer.
Ain't he cute!  Looks like a miniature hornless bull.
Dont look so blue my big know it's not forever that I'm leaving you.  Gotta make the cake so we can both eat....the paintings aren't quite cutting it yet and i won't sell the ****.  So Bubbalou...I know it's genetically engrained to be black and blue.... your Papa an  American, your mama a different hue....but remember my puppy to you I'll always be love me
no matter and that's how I love too.
Oh puppy you smell so good...that long ol scrubbing made ya soft and cuddly.  Just quit farting keep waking me up!
Que duermas
mi ángel poesía.... que
mañana será otro día.
Good night my angel poetry tomorrow shall be ANother dei
an investment of moments inspired is required as the clock begins to sprint and before our essence has expired

value exists as momentum gathers essentially easing our gravity and slowing the hands running out of control

these credits this currency a wealth of it indeed to transcend time space and self is all that we need.
Use your gift...give it away....that is your purpose....not slave all day
¡Que asco! Pensé... pero el primo me obligó.. pruébelo y si no te gusta te doy el mío.  Ahí en un runcho en Bogotá probé esta "delicia" según Miguel Ángel...y sabe que....como no me supo nada mal el caldito, decidí darle un mordisquito a lo bueno.  Intentando disimular, el sinvergüenza del primacho me espiaba entre sorbos.  No se le contenía la carcajada que quería soltar.  Una cosa babosa, gelatinosa y parecía de tendón ya masticado me invadió y empecé a sudar intentando esconder lo que buscaba Miguel.  Como no le di la satisfacción, sólo dejó que se le escapará una gigante sonrisa al ofrecerme el caldo suyo. Pero no me sacó la piedra...y me quedé asombrado de como se chupaba los dedos al terminarse el mío.

¡Que asco! Comprobé
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