If Bukowski could only see me now,
he'd be jealous.
Because through a mist of
blue-grey haze
and inebriated silence,
I'm writing a drunken poem.
It's not so bad really
as my "Lagunitas Censored,
Rich Copper Ale"
boldly announces:
"Life is uncertain,
Don't sip",
and I am drinking to silence.

Silence,
as in,
another black life,
is smothered in blood
and I need to scream
but nothing comes out
and how the **** long
will this go on?!!
I mean, 179 black lives lost
since the year began.
I have to ask,
which side are you on?
Why aren't you in the streets
until this **** ends?!

I will have a big headache in the morning.
Sorry Bukowski,
not from the beer,
but from realizing
the american nightmare
still goes on,
and on,
and on...
We need a revolution, nothing less!!

Aztec Warrior 8/14/15

It has been said
that when a gypsy witch sings,
the moon's silver tongue
speaks illusion in haiku,
and its beams tickle
feathers in your dream catcher.

I am no witch,
but in the darkest moments of night
where shadows dance uninhibited
with Milky Way stars,
I find serenity in your songs,
and I blow sonnets
of silver sensuality
over the contours of your beauty,
to tickle your dreams.

Aztec Warrior 7/28/15

EVIL:  A society that promotes
me first, arrogantly, ignorant bliss.

Aztec Warrior  7/27/15

Some morality courtesy of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
"Give it away now";
"What I got you gotta put it in you,
Don't stop, continue..."
Oh hell, just listen to the music:

https://youtu.be/exCEcmLw-Hc

Aztec Warrior  7.27.15

I wonder at
how often it is
that moonbeams float
on the river
and reflect the magic
I see in your smile.

Even if ever night,
it wouldn't be enough.

Aztec Warrior 7/20/15

It's hard to walk
the dunes of depression.
Not only from the loose shifting sands,
but the presence of soul eating,
demonic illusions
that pretend to be poetic
yet are just rotting, hypnotic words
hell bent on falsifying your mind.

The ironic indentations
in this madness
is you are standing amidst
blue sky lithium dreams
of xanax desires,
stuck with rainbow's
colors pounding at you,
making you think everything is fine
as the whole world burns;
a "one day at a time"
horror show
that shouts a *******
symphony in B sharp major.

Hell,
no wonder
I love the "blues".

Aztec Warrior 7/12/15

Sometimes the dream catcher
weaves a dream of you
that, like a sweet kiss,
tastes like a wildberry haiku
written in the language
of a Spring breeze
as it ripples through
a rush of lavender flavored flowers.

Just as sometimes
it weaves you
into a smile on my face
and a glimmer in my eyes.

Aztec Warrior 6/9/15

Why is it that arrogence
is followed by barberic acts?!

Aztec Warrior

She sat cross legged defiant;
a smirk played the features of her face.

The man, doubled up,
holding his crotch,
his ******* grin turned grimace.

As she walked away,
"next time, I'll add a *******!"

Aztec Warrior 6/27/15

Moon beams ruffle Owl feathers
dripping from the Dream Catcher;
they reach for you,
ease the worries you carry
so that sweet dreams
find you covered in a sea breeze embrace
and whisper:
"beseme, mi amor;
dream a little dream of me."

Aztec Warrior  6/27/15
http://youtu.be/P4T3tMkjRig

The moss hung low off the boughs
as heat rose from the stream.
They walked
hand in hand
along the bank;
their fingers dancing
to the tunes wrens sing;
their hips swaying
to the sun's warmth;
and their eyes found
the feel of poetry
blowing through the trees.

Aztec Warrior. 6-25-15

POEM 10

I remember walking the Trail of Tears
wrapped in diseased laced blankets
under small pox filled nights.
I witnessed the first ‘Holocaust’
of middle passage genocide
and untold body count
of African lives.
All of this is the moral fabric
of today’s American values.

I saw a sticker the other day,
as I walked my small town
and it has given me some hope.
“Stop Thinking Like Americans
Start Thinking About Humanity.”
It was posted on a street light,
right there on Main Street.

And I thought,
if this view point can be found here
in Small town USA,
think of what might happen
if it were also found
in all the big cities!?

Maybe we still can find our humanity.

Aztec Warrior 6.13.15

As Aztec Warrior,
I spirit walk as the Grey Wolf.
Roam North in the shadows
until I reach our tall brothers.
Standing proudly they
willfully share their long ago wisdom
to all who pass by.

“We were here
when your “People”
first came here
heading South into barren lands
and harsh sun.
It is good to see you have survived
and return in your true form.”

“But you must return soon
and warn all you see
there is great danger on its way.
A strange people will come
with shinny blades
and magic sticks
to conquer and destroy
our natural ways.
As they spread
over all the lands,
even our Mother
will be defiled,
***** by their evil superstitions.
It will be up to those
with true hearts,
with love of beauty
and courage to fight
to make the Earth right.
Go back Aztec Warrior,
tell your people what you have heard
from your Great, Great
Grandfather, the Sequoia trees.”

I awoke in human form,
the vision fresh in my mind.
As I look around,
stand on these concrete streets,
I wonder loudly,
Am I too late?

Aztec Warrior 6.13.15

The Dream Weaver
catches each of your dreams,
holds them gently,
keeps them safe
from calloused hands and demons
who want to steal away all hope.

I take your dreams,
savor their succulent flavors;
lick their sweet contours,
soft peaks, and lush valleys.
Sated with your liquid wonders,
I turn these dreams into poetry
to be floated on the Sea of Longing.

Aztec Warrior 6.13.15

https://youtu.be/0QIvW20IFUE

Sometimes,
just when I think
a conversation has started,
she becomes mute
and slips back into the sea.
I now understand
Orion's difficulties
in chasing Luna
across the night sky.

Will you reply
If I say I love your poetry?

The sky broke with thunder
as lightning cracked down tall trees
and another day turns inward
soaked with sadness and pain.

I miss you.