A dream I had,
ended in cries.
Couldn't sleep,
as the rooster called,
its morning time.

But there was no way,
I was getting out of bed.
I was comfortable,
with a full blast of air,
as I trembled under sheets.

The dreams were so vivid,
and like this alternative,
vision of days of my past.
But its so cruel
when the dream is fun,
and I wake up to less
of who I was but a mess.

I wake to the thunder,
I used to find so relaxing,
and the smashing of hail stones.

But when you become the storm
and fill yourself with utter chaos,
You forget how relaxing they were.
You are now the chaos they can bring.

I don't wish to wake up this morning,
I need the experience of vivid dreams.
They are focused partly on memories,
when my days were much more lively.

Your heart keeps in rhythm
to the ocean waves,
I become delirious
to your lasagna's special mince.

There are good things....
And then there's bad.....

There are the heretics,
forced to flee
burning of their flesh
despite if of purity.
Forced to flee the country,
the smell of pork in unison.

I plant roses behind your ears,
My lady who I've loved for years,
and in a moment comes tidal screams
and I wish this was just a bad dream.

The ocean suddenly comes to life
before I could call you my wife,
and the thorns are prickling blood,
down your neck a dribbling flood.

And I realize,
I should have snipped
away the sharp
confliction
of the red radiance.

This little bug,
that seems to tug,
I'm happy to hug,
but its looking smug.

It points down to the harbor
without a look of favor,
My boat's deep sank anchor,
of an ankle that's splattered
I thought laid out to pasture,
Its giggling with treasure.

This bug is as smooth as butter,
knows of my deep sank razor
and it knows of my clear number,
of the day I declared the reaper.

I would squish it but its slippery,
and it'll splash down so deeper,
I can tell by its sparkling eyes,
so I feed it coins and treasures.

This little rascal, better be hustled,
all it will end so dependently
Its hard to squirm a worm,
but I'll find a way to conform.

There's a tide
that's red of
voices heard.

A gathering of
sheep from a
dog that herds.

Banging of metal
from vocals
from cry-out words.

Screaming loud
risking all as
they take the nerves.

Lungs do scream
of how they do hurt.
Banging as they suffocate,

in the back of this beat ol' van,
until the time of last breath,
And the last is of their death.

I remember the two dollar coins
I found behind my ears,
like a magician so foreign
ignited my gears,
lit up these eyes,
like colorful balloons,
not only tooth-fairies as I lay
but sometimes genies in the sky....
You were the rough but kind man,
I knew awaited from every saloon.

The web tangled a fly in the predator's grips,
An abomination coming with spinning legs,
Jaws full of venomous poison, " thy will be done"
A creature monstrous born of " him and the son"

I need a million attractions from her thighs
and the rest of her delivers a silent sigh
She leaves this beating a void of absence
And she doesn't even see me to tease....

I see the mouths of lovers dripping salvia,
like the sharing of hits of Russian *****
And the belittling of nerves awash,
trying to hide in Camouflage......

If I washed up on your sleeping shores,
will you tend to me or leave me a corpse,
or leave me a broken heart which adores
until the pupils in my eyes withdraw.

Thousands of years already lit
by blue flames  and the red slits,
murders and the  suicides,
Victor gets to wave his flag.

Hands get scorn without oven mitts
A machine newly born feels much less,
and needs no emotions like a kiss,
It gets by with oil and batteries.

A little black bird,
with white underbelly,
wags its little sweet tail,
before the storm and its hail,

A car on the freeway,
caught in the down-pour,
wipers are on full-max,
and in front's just a fog.

And the little bird gets hit,
as the car's front gets smashed
little wings get torn to bits
as a neck snaps from the crash.

Black as night's tide,
comes the flooding rain,
Lightning strikes an old tree,
burning it down to a crisp

Insects running to little hives,
can't escape with their lives.
Mother nature can be beautiful,
and at a change can be deadly.

Scars face me up with no mirror complexion
The ladies of the night like to follow the lines,
as if this bad man's wounds are seducing
feeling every white ridge etched so fine.

There's a concoction I call poisoned fury,
It'll leave me passed out for several hours.
But leave me comatose for next few days,
shivering in a makeshift like little dog stray.

A hotel room,
is unlike a crowded house,
No voices that boom,
can hear the scalloping mouse

If I had some cheese,
it would please me,
I'll lay still as it tucks in,
& becomes my only true friend.

Hooded are the cult figures,
still chasing me
& are so determined,
I lay in bed with whiskey and tv.

I don't raise a toast,
Looking over the coast,
to bring me back in
for a world of punish-ment

I stole a few souvenirs
and a big bag of cash
Didn't leave a penny
to mess the big guy up.

I'll abide my time here,
Then head up to Dallas....

My old worn tattered feet
don't leave imprints in the sand,
neither when it rains.
Nor in clay muds of the land.

People continue to past through me,
like they did when I was alive,
but I at least I still get to enjoy
the comfort of a tavern's chatter.

I can ride the trains opposite a lady,
without having to glance away,
Admire her curves, wonder in her eyes
and how she swipes at her pretty hair.

And I can howl at the moon all night long
and no-one can hear a single vocal
Sometimes I wonder if I'm more alive,
as of the now mysteriously dead.

Simple thoughts are the circle,
contemplating is the square,
Outside box is always triangle
and love, is a sign with no rules.

Through blackened nights,
my wings tire,
so I head right down,
I see a lady in a gown,
heading in a castle,
as such this rascal......

It was a big mistake,
She's one of his brides,
the prince of darkness,
Dracula saw me coming.

I'm of chalk right now,
muffled to her pain,
She violates the black board,
draws a heart stabbed sword,
Tears held in her eyes
I wish she would just cry,
so I can hold her before I die.

This pain where my liver shines
Too many glasses of wine,
and Bulleit bourbon so fine,
as Scotch didn't smooth my line,
neither did beer as I dined.

She was my world as I curl,
Mornings become this girl,
into the night, I lost my sight,
Depression of my own doing.

They tried and they failed,
to get this boat to sail,
Every-time they plugged a leak,
Another silent leak, ninja sneak,
And their sanity did reach a peak
The old have no instructions
And their anger reached a peak
Its the end of this antique boat
weathering old, abandoned coat.