They found us
walking on shadows
and spitting out dada pictures
of electric dinosaurs in plaid top-hats
licking the third eye of an incandescent sacred bird.
        We were burning up
   so much creative juice
              into laughing gas
           couldn't help but **** on a water bottle
                   as if it were the ***
           of a whale swimming in the arctic
                           simply
          for a few moments of relief.

i thought you looked like a razor--
ready to slit the wrists of the king suit
until i rembered this was deja-vu,
suggesting you could grow wings if you let life guide us.
                   We flew into purple dawn,  
                           a little drunk.

Sitting inside a cloud of shisha--
with subtle hints of strawberry shimmying
through the midnight moonlight,
the incandescent embers
radiate from their core
forming ancient runic shapes
reminding me of a time beyond the concept of before....

when elders spoke with ashes in their words
traveling to worlds within looking through
the windows to each other's souls
where the rhythm of a heartbeat
and the melody of breathing cacophonously echos
through our gray matter canyons.
A time when millennia passed by in milliseconds
as everyone danced like a flame grinding on a candle wick
wailing with ecstasy--
every bead of sweat slithering from head to feet
arousing like a maddening kundalini explosion--
a honey-like nectar glowing throughout our body
pouring out of us brilliantly brighter than any white-hot sun!

I think
this might be a reason for my fascination
when it comes to inhaling fire--
despite my earth-natured tendencies
I'm still hypnotized by the first gift to mankind;
light.

HUGE W A L L S
     overlook
         the
       future....

timeline tunnels blocked--
Pink Floyd wasn;t kidding
         about THE W A L L S....

But a HUGE hug hangs
     the stone mental blockade
            on the gallows under a crescent moon

       while gypsies cheer with tambourines and  
                     artists draw with the ashes from their cigarettes
                            and
                      ­writers jot down the joyous carnival mood between shots

Chinese lanterns and Ramadan Fanous
             illuminate the b r i d g es
                      brrrrrrrrighter
                                 iridescence and
                                      swinging
              ­                 with misfits dripping anticipation
                      spinning sufis swaying
                                         to see the mural landscape opposite  THE W A L L S.

(+) vibrations buzzzzzzzz
                    lifting
  mouths        &           spirits

         r              ning
d            ow                      

                    out  ­                the (-)



                                                          ­ i  n   g
matriculating curves t w i s t
              quickly churning
                         bending like   w
                                                      a
       ­                                            t
                                                     e
                                                  r
                                    in a whirlpool
                                        with/ou t    grrrravity
                                                 as we sail on the stream of consciousness
                              to another realm
                                     inside ourselves
                                                    on our rainbow brain boat visiting
                                           tye-dye twilight night skies
                                                giggling wind PLAYING with
                                      our hair beginning to laugh
                                   like cats after discovering chicken it the fridge.
                         We sing Hendrix
                                 Joplin
                          Morrison
                     Floyd
                Lennon
         and Shankar
all the way to the shore
of the island.

Thanks for the gift you left at the front door--
I wept cause I figured you left for good
'till I opened the box in horror
to find a zombie black mamba instead of my heart.

Thanks for the living dead snake
constricting around my brain
making me think of nothing but you
eschewing daily life.
The venom takes away my appetite--
the sun is too bright and sunny
so I stay inside my room filled with flies
writing about the time you left this
living dead snake instead of my heart.

It keeps squeezing and gnawing--
it's venom fills me with haunting memories
of the times I didn't see you slowly pulling away--
hugs stiffened
your kisses listless
and eyes drowning
while the sound of your voice sings disinterest.

Luckily you gave to me
a zombie black mamba instead of my heart
so I can always remember our time together.

We roll
on the magic carpet into the outward reaches
to wrap abound bodies in communal hugs
atop magical tye-dye mountains and black and white rivers
of Peter Max the hushed whisper of
red bird hair ***** into a conversation
flying further into the horizon that is my dawn light glowing chest.

We roll
over each other on the floor sofa laughing,
like you see in the movies
of delinquent bohemians celebrating life with beers and
pills you swallow. Feels like the puppet strings
on our wings have withered; free to flail.

We roll
our bodies & eyes
backward-forward-sideways together with the music
wryly dancing as the world turns into a desert--

every molecule in our bodies warms--slowly,
like a hot bubble bath,
the earth takes its time spinning....
unlike our Sufi brains still rolling
rolling
and rolling like a stone down a hill betwixt a meadow
between two excited lovers in a cliched scene where
they are running toward each other--
naked with tattoos on their arms
and a smattering of neon orange and blue paint speckling their bodies
while they wear a native american headdress and Ray-Bans.

Frantically, a snowflake falls--
terrified of the massive dark cloud
a former home.

Falling--falling
zig-zag loop-de-loop
twist reverse--falling--

Once a vibrant turquoise
filled with melodious birds
whose songs were carried by a brisk breeze--
The dark cloud now envelops
the sky
with a quiet, frigid, painful air
looking for that one frightened snowflake
in a sky of millions leaping for the ground,
forgetting it created that scared snowflake,
just like all the others running away...