Which man is it (hmm?)
who sits there staring, blankly,
at a powerless television set?
Is it me? So, it seems.

Inhale, exhale- stop.
Be still; hidden from the Hawk.
Talons pierce your top.

Ninety-two seven;
the smooth jazz I find
myself, blissfully, hearing
is absolute heaven
in my mind.
A vibrant dream wonderland
is nearing.
I hope you can understand
if I don't get back to you.

Just the sensation of her fingertips
brushing up against my own
is enough to make this nomad
feel very (very) at home.
Oh, the taste of her succulent lips..
I'm deprived- my mind's gone mad.
Oh, the sound of her moan
into the depths of my ear.
Oh, what I would do to be near
her every single night- of my life.
How does she possess such beauty;
inside and out?
The nights without her
cause my mind to stir.
Hoping her heavenly heart
dances, delightfully, through my dream.

Those ole,' sky-high birch trees grew askew
- due to the harsh an' relentless winds that blew
- through those high an' rolling, golden prairies.
Tis' that place where all o' the remaining Fairies  
- tended to merrily roam an' call their home.
Tis' there where all the weeds're overgrown
-an', yet, no one, much, seems to mind
- for it all seems ta' be perfectly designed;
-- an' nothing could ever change it's beauty
-- less, o' course, humans should choose ta' act crudely.

Oh, you foolish ***** within my chest,
- you hardly pump adequate blood through me
- an' should I rise too quick: I'll fall t'wards me' feet;
- upon an ole' wooden floor: I'll make my nest.
Yay- tis' where I'll take a brief, uninvited rest!

What - then, heart, makes you dream o' bliss an' glee
- which all seem to revolve round' that fairy
-- the one with the gems on her fingers an' neck?

Oh- you silly an' foolish heart, you,
- you know you could end up a shade o' navy.
Oh- but she makes you sing jingles so merrily
- when you witness such a beautiful view!
Oh- you know you may be hurt, greatly,
- but - even still - you dream on carelessly.

In a desperate attempt
to find the right words,
he writes out spewed scribbles;
thoughts that need to be revised
a couple dozen times.
Disastrously, the pen erupts ink
all over his childish rhymes. 
"Oh, no! That was about two dimes-
  worth of thought.."
Ever so distraught:
a thousand thoughts
circumnavigate his mind.

Oh!

Mister Field Mouse,

 Please scurry off this gravel road!
I just want to get home, to my house,
  & take the load off of my shoulders
   - for a minute.

I wish not, to do you harm;
  in fact, seeing you there
 sounded an alarm 
  - in my mind.

So - if you'd mind,
  I'd love for us to, both, pass safely.
Please, my friend, don't act crazy
  & emerge from the brush
  as I rush- past at two miles
  - an hour.

Your death would be so sour.
  - and I'm, already, feeling a lot.
Your death would devour my mind;
  - I'd be, all, full of tears & snot.

So -  let's not.

I believe it's, typically,
about two stout deep
when the thoughts of my queen creep-
into the vibrant spotlight of my mind.
These internal gears begin to grind;
this mind, slips my grip... I begin to lose.
Thus, & as such...
I continue sipping brews,
with such high amounts
of ethanol & yeast-,
for- you see- the love that I do love
lays her beautiful mind
about one hundred kilo-'s nor'east.

This big hunk of steel puts off carbon gas:
- as I sit here, parked, admiring Cass.
If I were to look away to remove the keys:
- too much time will have past, I do believe-
- since I had seen, & laid my eyes upon,
- this, truly, immaculate queen.
I do, indeed, hope that this angel sees-
- just exactly how much she means to me;
for- I'm her man &'ll always have a gleam
- in my eye- when I look to the right
- and see her, there, right by my side.
I'm dreaming her on the passenger side-
- because I, honestly, believe -
- that's where we were bound to reside!

January 5th, 2016.
Five in the morning.
Red eyes caused by being up since
four (am) the day prior.
He stands in Winnipeg airport
staring off at all the people.
"None of them are boring,"
his brain tells itself,
"They are all exquisite stories..
sitting upon their own personal shelves,
waiting to be opened."
Be wary, my friends. 
Many of those who would like to read you, 
will only leave you with
a cracked & creased spine. 
His trance,
broken, as a hand taps his shoulder.
His sister,
ready to board her flight.
He says,
"Travel safe, good night."
With that,
back to the parking lot..
Back to solitude. 
Back to his thoughts of you.

Does the city crier
ever close his massive mouth?
Look at all the folks..
   hanging on the edge of a wire-
    wondering just, exactly, what it is
     that bloak's babbling on about.
"A drought did befall before the Shire"?!
      Surely- this crier's a liar!
Beloved barkeep.. just one more stout.
  & then, my friend- I am out-
                            this b*tch.

I am Me.
Phillip Crowley.
Me is one who rarely has peace
in the back of his mind.
My smile will have you believe
that I glide through life with ease
& that nothing phases me.
But, you see?
I am in a state of constant worry.
I am in a state of over thinking.
Until the day that they bury.. me,
I don't think my mind will see peace.
I am Mr. Crowley.
Whose thoughts will make you crawley.
So, you see?
That is why you may never see,
inside my mind.
The Crowley you meet is jolly..
& kind.

"I apologize, baby brother, for my voice waking you;
- but it seems, to me, there are laws to be breaking to-
- night. We need no sleep under the blue moon's rays!
My brother, do you understand what it is that I say?
                                   --
Get up, Giddy! There are copper coins for the taking
- and, simple, fragile windows to be breaking:
- in order to get in, and off, with what we deserve.
Are you in, baby brethren; have you heard-
- my plea for a partner? I know a home on Third - avenue that would be an easy target for me and you.
Within its windows, abundant rubies: I have view-
- ed those precious red gems with my own two-
- eyes. I think it would be, rather, quite wise
- to break into that house while all the lights-
- are out. The home owner can come back and pout
- but you and I will already be over the mount-
- ain range- with those jewels in our hands!
Don't you understand? I have a fool proof plan!
Aegidius, my brother, won't you be the man-
- to come give me a hand? I will not demand;
- I just hoped I could count on you.
- Your worried face has me quite blue!"

"But- Phillip! What if the tenants are still up;
- what if they possess muskets and gunpowder?
I cannot come; I guess I just sup-
- pose I fear that they could devour
- us before we make it through
- that window on Third avenue."

"Oh- Giddy! That's what's so pretty
- about my scheme; I already have,
- the last few nights, scouted out the scene!
It does appear to me- that they leave
- every night at nine thirty-three
- and their carriage leaves the city!"

"I am not sure, Phil; if anything goes wrong:
- our lives are a pretty hefty bill- to pay..
All because we wanted to get away:
- out over that vast mountain range
- with bright, shiny red jewels in hand!
Don't you understand? Even if we gauge-
- the scenario right and escape, how long-
- will we end up on the run from men with guns?
I cannot join you, Phillip- dear brother o' mine.
I hope you think twice before making up your mind;
- for: it would hurt me to see something happen
- to you. Should you go: I pray not to hear snappin'
- of muskets firing fatal shots on Third avenue.
Do what you have to, but, I can't join you."

"Aegidius, how has it come to this?
Shall I give you, now, one last kiss?
For: after this evening, I may not ever return;
- the devil may grab me and I may burn- away.
Down there with Lucifer, I'll be forced to stay!
It's okay! Don't cry, Giddy; if I have any success:
I'll hide you a few rubies
- under that ole' tree on the mountain out west-
- of Eldorado."

With that: Phillip threw on a dark cloak and turned.
Aegidius left out a plea of his own, "Don't go, Phil."
Phillip looked back, grinned, and left- still.
You see? Phil needed to acquire his thrills;
- after that night, though,
- he never again smashed in any windowsills.

To keep my mind from feeling blue :
- all, it is, I have to think about is you
- an' about those, absolute, beautiful eyes
- that resemble a magnificent Summer's sky.

Aye - she shines like a gem, ever, so bright
- an' brings unto the Earth - a vibrant light!
Oh me, oh my, what an immaculate sight -
- an' for her affection: I shall put up a fight.

The light shone upon my eyes
every, single, time that she walks by
would leave fierce gladiator's blind.
I may be seen as wise, but-
behind these brown eyes -
I am the guy who will, quickly,
greet his demise -
should I never feel her thighs -
constricting the sounds around my -
ears.
This lust has lived for so many years.
I want, nothing more than,
to whisper in your ear-
    the sweetest nothing's
& the realest something's.

If there is a creator,
she should be proud.
"Well done, my friend!
   She, truly, is a masterpiece."

What it would be
to make her my missus?!
(Magnificent!)
It would be heaven for me!

To her every word, I would listen-
(No!) hark- and concentrate upon.

I would drop everything at once,
if only to get to witness her eyes- a- glisten.

I dream of kissing her upon our lawn.
It's a dream going on- seventy two months!

I wonder if she, to me, could be fond..

I scream up to the Creator, in plea,
"My fare maiden, I beg of you, this is-
the only thing I ask! I am, merely, a pawn
but if you could bestow that queen unto this dunce:
I would be so appreciative!"

"Grant me access to your 
  exquisite empire- & I shall ensure fire
  never rains down upon these walls.

My Queen-, I have had many, a, falls-
  but- don't mistake me for foolish,
  nor meek!
For I am always up and pondering
  yet I am never losing sleep:
  for sleep is unneeded.

Oh, the joy my words would weep
  should you allow me to, even,
  look after the sheep -
  outside the walls
  - of your empire."

She was negative on the test-
and, though part of me was depressed,
I knew- deep down- it was for the best.
I nearly caused such a disastrous mess
and now I feel slightly less- stressed.
Now she can move on- and make progress
- without me around - to drag her down.

My friends, reclucantly, drag me out
to some local clubs to drink ale & stout.
I try my best not to sigh, too much, or pout
but it all comes back
with the memories about- her.
I slip away from the bustling crowd,
crying, 'it's too much- too loud."
Slithering over to the old wooden stool
I kindly tell the bartender,
"Keep serving me these until I drool."
An unusual look upon his face as he nods.
I notice everyone in here puts up such facades.
I refuse to plank up my soul & heart
though, I would if I was smart.
So I keep
hiding all emotions
by sipping on various potions
& adding certain chemicals to my drink
when no one's eyes towards me
make any motion.

Though, she said it so, very, peacefully:
"I can't wait to get away from the prairies!"
it still sounded, ever, so scary - to me;
for I have always been a prairie boy.

It appears you've gotten me all wrong!

Though, I'm not surprised:
this fluffy exterior looks quite domesticated,
  now doesn't it?

A predator caressed within sheep's flesh;
I've been in this rueful disguise, all along.

I feel: you'll be incredibly impressed
should I choose to unrobe, (and) undress-
my thick scraggly fur from beneath.

You see, you cannot make a mess-
of someone's body with a sword's sheath.
It takes a sudden pull to reveal the edge
of the blade that is so very forceful.

If force is what you want from me,
I will cause the rest of the wolves
to fear letting out the slightest whimper
towards mother moon.

Soon, my dear:
I will run alone in the strongest pack;
  creating an atmosphere
  that you are enthralled by -
  & beg to be my bad as' b'tch.

I am pining a princess
who has been magnificent
since, a time, long, long ago;

long before
  I made out who it was, I was;

long before
  my foolish, baby lips beared fuzz;

long before
  life smacked me upon the head,
  quite abrupt;

long before
  I f'cked, oh, so many things up.

  -

She is a mythical folklore
that I pray in the future, stored,
will become reality.

  -

Oh! how silly of me..

  -

I could have swore 
I had another pack of cigarettes.

-

I must've ignored 
how much I had smoked,
contemplating this life's regrets. 

-

In my dungeon, you'll find me choked-
up; wishing the day we met-
went better than it had.

-

I'm going mad.   --

Which words could I say to accurately convey-
- the thoughts behind, and within, my mind?
Yes- tis' true! I wonder: how to portray, and rhyme,
these not so kind thoughts enshrined- in my mind.
Never mind; I'll get around to it another time-
- once I'm adequately inspired by a bottle o' wine.

People tend to only listen
- to the words that glisten,
- or have been deemed to be true,
- through their foggy eye's view.
Yay! Through vision so askew :
- all heard falsities become truth
- an' they'll mislead the youth
- in their publicly funded schools.
There ought to be some sort a-rule
- against indoctrinating children.

All o' these old songs on the radio-
- make me reminisce on the days go-
- ne by. They make me want to cry-
- or maybe, in fact, they make me wish to die.

If I were to, endlessly, ramble on,
about everything and nothing..
Would you revise them when I'm gone,
turn my scattered thoughts to songs-
and sing- in the voice of my memories?
Will you, forever, treasure me;
the way I do you?

The rays of a crescent moon
carefully caress the curvature 
of her. Reckless, as we are unfamiliar-
with one another. Inevitably.. Soon-
our bodies are conversing
with no need of an interpreter.
Slightly bewildered,
we cautiously proceed.
We were taking turns,
taking the lead.

He staggers, so, slow down a lonesome road
- in El Dorado: the only home he'd ever known.
He attempts to grasp some truth, alone, in the street
- but winds up hearing, only, his rambling feet
- and those coyotes who'll cry t'ward the sky,
- t'wards that waning moon: resting, oh, so high.
Letting out a sigh, he cannot comprehend why
- all o' these citizens, ever, so faithfully comply
- to thee system o' people who're, oh, so sly
- an' would love to see us all bleed out an' die
- if it gets them a new sports car or a blue silk tie.
Tis' a kind o' world to make people lay down an' cry.

My mind has come to a conclusion:
- that I need to go somewhere rich in seclusion
- to a place in the woods where I can think.
The state of the world has only caused me to sink
- deeper into my long trench of concerns.
I need to go fall asleep next to the dying ferns
- and forget this grim world that they've created.
Yes! There's no longer any time to debate it;
I must be off- & gone from my companions thoughts.
Yes, my friends, it's true; I've simply got
- to get away from this gloom ridden space.
I need to find, in the trees, my own little place
- where I can live without government control.
That, you see- my friends, is my destined goal.

As the smoke rises
I find myself falling -
into a deep depression.
Smoking hurts me..
which hurts her -
which hurts me.
Feeling this way is
less than she deserves...

I feel like dirt.

sigh

I wonder if she will resent me
for dying before her?

He writes while lighting a cigarette..

I think that I might be better off in shades:
- so that my acquaintances won't see the way
- my eyes jot forth and back through the day
- and night. Hell; who needs to see in dim light, eh?

Hunks o' rose quartz, diamond an' sapphires:
- tis' these shining stones - which your admirer
- would love to gift you - an' dress your bones in.
Aye - I'd love to see this necklace lying upon the skin
- of your chest, or - rather, - of your *******:
- tis' that same place I'd love to make a nest,
- an' take, such, a soothing an' peaceful rest.
Aye - with my dreaming head upon your ****:
- I'd listen, attentively, ta' your perfect heart's beat
- an' wish we, both, could stay like this for weeks!

Rose quartz, diamonds an' sapphires:
-I'd give you them all, just, to light a fire
- and cause your spirits ta' lift up higher
- cause' you are the one which I admire.

Rubies, sparkling citrine or pearls;
I'd gift you any mineral in the world
- cause' it makes my mind, endlessly, twirl:
- imagining you - as, my queen, my girl.

Amber, ammolite, an' lapis lazuli;
- Aye - I'd buy you all o' this, truly,
- to ensure your mind's never gloomy.
Is it a far-fetched dream? Absolutely.

An' am I a fool to believe it ta' be possible?
Unfortunately - it's an outcome very plausible.

Rose quartz, diamonds, an' sapphires;
- all o' these things: I'd get from the mart
- if only ta' light an intense, burning fire
- in your, so, beautiful an' vibrant heart.

Alas, me' pockets - all - be empty
- so all I may do is tempt thee
- with an invitation, given gladly,
- ta' join my picnic in the valley.

So - tell me -
- *is that something you'd fancy?

They say sugar is sweet,

  yet it is, nowhere near as sweet
  
  as the residue upon my cheeks.

Her thighs clamped upon my ears:

oh, how I've wished this for years..

Be it rye, barley, berries: whichever my glass carries
- will keep me content- if only for a brief moment.
These fermented cherries do cause the little fairies
- to speak, very, kindly to me, far as my eyes can see.
Could it be: thee- yeast has suddenly caused a cease
- in sanity- for me? Or is it that I've, simply, released
- my need for other people's nods and approvals?
Have I, merely, stopped caring what fellow pupils
- see and/or feel when they look or think t'ward me?

It has been- the same ole' scene
in this same ole', stock city.

I spend my moons- singing out,
baffoon -ishly,
this same ole' song of Eldorado.

I sing this same ole' song:
as the dead, golden grass
grows grand and green.

I sing this same ole' song:
as a sixty mile, whipping wind
blows through the Mississippi.

I sing this same ole' song:
under the succulent shine of,
the fullest of many moons.

I sing this same ole' song:
until I hear the beetles and worms
chew through this coffin,
deep in the ground of  Eldorado.

But alas -
it's all been bookmarked before:
in the scribblers of scribes,
struggling with the serveral
aspects of their lives.

The orange leaves o' last fall begin to emerge
- as the white drifts deteriorate to form surg-
-ing streams that tear through the low prairie
- an', suddenly, human kind seems more merry
- than they were in the recent months an' weeks;
- yay - a joyful smile crosses humanity's cheeks!
It must've something to do with the changing season;
- tis' the only reason - that I can comprehend.

White drifts melt- forming shallow, surging creeks:
- thus- bright colours o' green'll arrive within weeks
- an' each o' our spirits will, surely, be enlightened.
Yay - thee shades o' spring are, ever, so vibrant;
- an' we, each, will find shining smiles upon our faces!
T'wards the blue skies, we'll sing our joyful praises:
- songs o' appreciation to the great Mother Earth.
We'll sing along with the soaring, high up, birds.
Yay; it'll, certainly, inspire all o' our joyful words
- an' the streams'll gleam, bright, in the suns rays  
- whilst thee children, carelessly - in the garden, play.

Spring be the time that thee Sun brightly shines,
- tis' the time when all o' the plants come ta' life,
- an' t'wards the moon - I hear the coyotes' whine.
Aye - tis' this time when human's happiness arrives
- an' we, each, find beaming smiles upon our faces.
Do you not feel that blissful, enticing spirit?
Tis' now that every creature feels they belong.
I ask you again, friend, do you not hear it?
Tis' like the Earth playing bass to the birds song!
Don't let the rain drops do the same to your mood
- for - the clouds'll, ever so, shortly pass by!
Don't allow for exterior energy to make you crude;
- be the most joyful you can be, at least try!
Go dance, with your closest friends, out in the rain:
- I promise you - it'll wash away, most o,' the pain!

Should we have, fortunately, dodged this bullet,
I would like, very much, for you to abandon me.
This latest ordeal has left some frogs in my gullet
and that's, seemingly, exactly where they wish to be.
I'm so choked up- and I lack the proper fitting words
to make any of this any better than, currently, it is.
I intend to live the way that the deer and birds-
do live. I will no longer, ever, seek another kiss
from a Ms.; for- it only, ever, causes drear and sorrow.
& I know: you'll be, so much, better off tomorrow-
once you have, fully, forgotten my face and my name.
There's nothing more, here, to gain- except more pain.
You know that I'm no good and I have never been.
I may seem jolly- but it's all, just, a grand scheme:
one to convince the people of this world that I'm sane.
Only I know, though, what's scurrying in this brain.
It would make all o' thee other people's skin crawl;
it would cause all o' the young children to bawl.
You see? It's not a very pleasant scene:
all of these woeful things that I do daydream.

I've ceased speaking to, mankind, my own species.
For: all o' the mischief within all o' these bodies
- has left me, here, pondering those ole' birch trees
- and about how they are where I, really, ought to be;
- far away from my species and from modern society.
"I really have to go, folks; the clock is getting near
- time I have a date with roaming white-tailed deer
- and raccoons! Yes; the time is coming, ever, so soon
- and I wouldn't wish to keep these creatures waiting..
- not even for one single moon. I won't see you soon
- and I hope that you'll all, completely, understand
- because I've become enthralled in a wild woodland:
- where no man has ever known as his home,
- where the unburdened buffalo used to roam;
- that is where I will build my beautiful home
- & all I'll have to worry about: snoopy, little drones."

Seventeen minutes
until my favorite show
comes onto my television set:
That should be just enough time
for a nervous breakdown.

Arise, my son!

Attempt to grasp the day
with such magnificent force!

Let your darkness dissipate
each time I come around.

Love,
The Sun

________


How was that?

Deep in the dark,
your true self will sit.

You may fool the oxygen suckers
but I know your thoughts are thicker
than smuckers jelly.

With a flask full of gin,
I think up hymns
about her.
If I am a bird,
she is the nest
that I wish to rest within every night.

The hidden secrets
- that you may not ever know
- are held by royals.

None o' us could, ever, really know,
- just exactly, where each o' us go
- when all o' the bright lights go dim  
- an' our bodies are, suddenly, limp.
Do we, all, get to see some grand being
- when we cease to continue breathing;
- or- does it all, simply, turn to dark black
- with no chance o' us ever getting back?
"Should we find ourselves six feet under
- or, up, high above the thunder?" I wonder.
Do our souls elevate to some magical space
- or do we, all, lie still in our boxes with grace?
We might not ever know the, exact, truth
- but, even still, the trees - they bear lively fruit
- an' the Earth still spins round' the Sun..
An' - for now, e'rything seems to be calm.