Buzzing emerald jungle swoons—
           hip kitty soul eyes embrace the red wanderer.
It’s a tactical chess game,
        both aware of the other’s presence.

Nebulous black perched in shadows,
     desert red fool skips like a rock.
          when eyes eclipse each other
an electric hummmmmmm buzzes
as their hearts start glowing like a peridot ember
the wind whizzes and twists
through their perfect curly hirsute
           rushing luscious aurora energy pulsing
           to and fro like giddy hearts exchanging notes in class…
Their blurry bodies bound forward
    fox scorching ground while panther burns branches
        lightning leg movements paws calls thunder
          sun red hot fuzz lunges up
           midnight cool moon goddess panther slams down  
            colors collide and crash and cling and clap
            spines ignited in tye-dye holographic rainbows
their claws singe each other’s skin
their eyes swirl black holes
holy howls and breath coalesce
as one love
as one sight,
all encompassing
mythical tail told to all
through campfire gypsies and artists canvas
panting the dancing fox and panther
the bhavacakka.

I will tip toe around this feeling like a spill
in the floor that I don't feel like cleaning up because it isn't my mess (but it is)
You tied knots in my stomach like
they taught you in boy scouts and
you were never really good at math but it
didn't matter because English was your strong subject and
you'd be ****** if you didn't
paint your words like scenic painting.
You said your IQ was higher and
I knew it wasn't but I let you
think that because whatever
I was difficult
and no one ever let's  me forget it and
for once I needed to agree that maybe
this whole thing wasn't for me but
if not me then who
so I forced myself to be there. 
I already have a hard time accepting
compliments and yours were
as hollow and bare as the dead oak tree you
sawed down in boy scouts my ribs
the broken branches termites crawling out
of my tear ducts and
to think they say they taught you
survival and other things that young
men should know and people always
say boys will boys and
you are always trying to put me
in my place because
that's what you've been taught to do
but my place is wherever and
however I wish to be and
for reasons I don't understand I had
allowed my place to be with
you and if I call you out I'm
a ***** and if you don't agree with
the pictures I paint
with my own tongue
I'm a *****  and
you tell me I haven't seen anything but
I know I have seen more than
you and I'll write in my diary but stick
around anyways because I'm
difficult and no one will ever let me forget it. 
And one day I wake up and realize that
you no longer have interesting
things to say and I try to
imagine a time when you
did but my mind draws a blank
you did not treat me as your equal
we are so young, and I've read
more books than you, yet you
tell me there is no truth other
than the words that roll off
your tongue wet with paint
you claim to love art yet Salvador Dali means nothing to you.
And I continued to be your teacher
while you insisted that I was the student
I longed to be taught by someone
who saw the worth in my words
and not just my ******* and treated
me well regardless of the size of my ***.
I didn't date much because I'm difficult
and no one ever let's me forget it.
And if you're constantly telling me
I'm weird and adding lol
I don't wanna ha.ha but I will
because you make me feel like
I'm not normal.
You make me feel as if I'm living
an alternative lifestyle because
I don't wanna have *** and
I don't think about it every waking moment
not every conversation I have with the opposite gender has to be sexually charged like
an angsty teenage battery.
And then one day I find that besides me you
have been giving many girls hollow deaf
oak trees and though I've seen more documentaries then you it stings
like a slice through my heart and
even though you learned first aid in
boy scouts you leave me to bleed.
I wouldn't have let you near my
wounds (I would have)
but the fact is you left me to bleed out
and it's pain I can't explain or name And
I'll refrain from mentioning it to my friends because I don't want it to matter but
sometimes it does.
At the end of the day my taste in music
was better and your art was paint by number
and just because everyone makes me feel
like I need to be with somebody doesn't
make it true my heart is most vibrant
in solitude.
Your boy scout badges mean nothing
to me so what you can tie knots
in my stomach and make me feel
pathetic is there a patch your mother can
sew onto your uniform for that?
I can't tell if you're the magnet or I am.
One day I'll stop texting you back but
I'm difficult and no one will ever let me forget it.

Time flies like a baby fruit fly to a banana
buzzing through a brand new day through the fractal lakes
cleansing my body in peppermint amethyst vibrations
as the gyrations of the water ripple and drip down my back and waist
tickling the skin into submission--
I'm on a love mission feeling the splish-splash nefelibata mind
within my glowing gold-hazel eyes as I realize my potential.
The world isn't simply my oyster
my voice can make a difference
if I wish and believe me I've kissed Aladdin's lamp
but my mind is filled with vagary so I plant the seeds
in my magic garden and watch them grow--
burst through the ground and glowing
some like emerald embers
and others like electric chalcopyrite
as my third-eye shines and pops calico corn
crackling in the back the ideas simmer on the grill
near the chilled ZuZu Juju honeydew wine
while the electric blue hip panther cat croons
away on her guitar in ancient star languages saeng
when we were all just haranguing through the ONE-light
all bright sun's right to shine a vine of fire rays
into our future past selves
now aligned with burning designs of moons, suns and AUMS.
The animal pixie band manipulates the sounds around us--
the cicadas sing a lotus chorus while the tiger-painted rabbits rapidly
strum rainbow hieroglyphs on their magic harps
while the jazz sax racoons all dressed in jasper suede jackets
and backwards newsboy caps
play a theta vibration so meditatively
we dance in digambara dream catcher trance
of enhanced meraki enchanted atoms
and cells boiling in passionate blood.

After all the eating and dancing we play in the clay mud
recreating our animal forms and budding faces blooming
and swooning as our winged auras sling us
into the dusk sky
to sway and zoom in the rain.
later we enter Father Sky's cloud castle
for a peaceful night curled up by the azurite lightning fireplace
roasting marmalade maple marshmallows
with those rasta angel fellows token
on the diviner's sage sippin mugwort tea.
And as we third eye-gaze into and through each other
seeing our past and future time tubes
aligning into a sacred golden flower sphere,
we giggle like silly fox children
we've forgotten hours have left our pockets
cause to us it only seems like seconds have gone by...

Two meals and one long night have past since last we ate hot food.
Sore and sleep deprived, we're in a fire-breathing mood.
A line of chatty fobbits and fat civilians stretches long.
In this line to chow we, warriors in a war zone, do not feel like we belong.
The mortar alarms' warbling screech fills the air.
The lanky, and the blubbery run with for bunkers, motivated by the scare.
We stand defiant, sore, and hungry in the open ground.
Tempting unlikely, unlucky death.  We ignore the sound.
The alarm shuts off.  An amplified, embarrassed voice says, "Ehh...false alarm."
Dear sweet idiot:  Thank you!  There's no harm
In clearing out the line.  We waste no time laughing and running to the front of the line.
Your inattentive idiocy almost cost lives before in this war.  But you are forgiven this time.

Oh, how hallowed electronica has grown
since the electro-festivities became known.
Now that stellar conflagration
consumes our nation.
All hail techno-paganism!

Our wicked philanthropy and righteous sins
keep us down, drugged-up and praying.
***** mind, clean conscience.

In heathen choice we are condemned
to experience pleasure
beyond what animal would comprehend.
Our souls will be set aflame;
We are to feel the sear of elation,
The fiery rush of indescribable sensation.
We gather to bring the collective to new planes,
Transcendention is the ceremony's name;
The expansion of consciousness
using molecules as tools
to reexamine 'mortal'.

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

Excuse me,* sir, your pants are on fire.

Yes, i am talking to you, sir.
This is quite a mess you have made,
you starry-eyed dreamer.
Not that it was perfect in the beginning.

Nothing is.

When my grandfather got old,
he made sure to dress well.
If he was to die on any
given day, he intended to
do it in his Sunday best.
My grandfather died in a
unisex hospital gown.

When i was growing up,
Mom always made sure
i wore clean underwear.
It would be shameful
to die in ***** ones.

Speaking of growing up,
i was raised on Reaganomics.
It doesn't matter which side of
the aisle you stand on these days,
because Reagan defeated communism
through the clever use of money.

When my grandmother was set to pass,
she faced the changing seasons with
poise and dignity.  She was
ready to move on, to reunite with
loved ones lost.
My grandmother died in a
unisex hospital gown.

My best friend, Peter, didn't
put much stock in appearances.
He was funny and sarcastic.
We all loved him like a
brother.  Peter's mom buried
him in brand new Ecko
gear.  He died in boxer
shorts on the floor of a
ramshackle apartment
blue in the face from a
****** overdose.

Thank god none of these
people will ever need healthcare.

Mr. President, sir, i am no
Republican.

i am an American.

You do remember us, don't you?
How silly of me...of course you don't.
You were busy watching your legacy.

i would have watched it better, if
it had been my name
at risk.
My name is all i have.

When Bill Clinton was president,
he lied about getting a
*******.
But we forgave him.
It was just a *******.
It's not like it was our
privacy or healthcare at stake.
Or our economy.

Have you dreamed about any
of those things, sir?
Or just your legacy?

Who knows?
How well do we ever know anyone?

Christmas is right around
the corner, and i and
others have made you
a fine gift, a lovely suit.
It's invisible.
You probably won't notice.

No matter...
one day you will have to
remove your flaming pants.
To try on your new suit.
Or, god forbid, to put on a
unisex hospital gown.

And then you will finally
see your legacy.