******* ****!

"**** if I'd known"

"That's some beautiful ****,
Where'd you get yo ****?"

"All this **** talk and talking ****, ain't half of it all"

" The future, i truly hope, will have none of the **** we got,"

" I'm over this Covid ****"

" What kind of **** do you get into? "

"Don't be full of ****..."

"Durian smells like ****, luckily it's a melon not a untidy person."

"Turn **** into dessert, like dung bettles"

"What's the best **** that ever or never happened to you"

"Colon cancer? Send in your **** in a box."

"Let the lab rummage through your ****, it's a ****** job, oh well"

"**** rolls downward, so slow your roll, *******'

"Make that **** rain, holler! Dollar dollar bills y'all!"

"Smoking a pound of ****, what you doin'"

" **** if i only knew... "

The scent of strong coffee reminds me of the mess hall on the Cleveland; smells of sausage and powdered eggs.. but its the deep brown of that "ground" whether the beans columbian or Starbucks from africa, early mornings now are remiss at 10am.
Pour a bowl of rice cereal, crackling in the milk ... My breakfast with the price is right on the hd flatscreen... The winners and applause motivate the late sleepers, wake and bake --wothout the chaos of fusion kitchens... I miss the smell of coffee in the early morning, on the pier, the brine of pacific highway beaches... Cali a far away dream...
Vegas smells of sin, **** and swill, sweat and skunky trees, smoke gets in the eyes,
Boys didnt cry... Why i wonder. A distant thunder, coastal storm,
Its the sound heard
From lives torn asunder....
Filthy as the ground, thoughts that stay awake with strong
Coffee
Grounds...

I ain't a professional, but i am special-- feel me?

Make self worth a silent market,  words have no value.

Second Skin


I find sleep quite amiable
less resistant
after touching
The timpani of tigers
like prowling
Your other jungle-wilderness .
It’s my undoing
after we have done what we did
Physically
Akin
Our own doubts kept close as
Our tingling, our tender cooing…

The gooseflesh shivers
Birthday suits
Aquiver
In the miasma of life's (bowels)
howling, bowdlerizing
the sensations of our
everyday heaven.

I find sleep more pliable
after a swim in you
and I taste myself
in the salt
of our commingling
skins
        Tingling
Whinging
swathed in mouths
primrose
fragrant waterfalls
thunderclouds /deluge
A downpour.

Seed & Petrichor

in the aftermath
Of our victory
That ******
within and about
our dance of
Skin—I am
washed away
a tiny death
a cry to heaven...

I feel naked
when you're not clothed on me,
how queer to need you
to swim ...

I find dreams much better
aloft
My second skin.

****-Ring (acrostic)



C inch the boys in their place,

O bjectified / at attention,  indecent proposition (pole position)

C rows those proud chicken hawks loudly

K illng the blood-flow - frozen still:

R idgid hoses, denying it any

I rrigation or relief

N either giving it room to breathe

G orged on ***,  in a pulsating noose...

To be without you….

It means nothing to want

Attention.

Seemingly i'm told
i am jaded

my eyes - Abyssinians’
searching for red laser
points
on walls
from pedestrian faces,
since none nor no
one will
never / ever do.

But to be without you
means I am
Nothing.   Wanting  

Attention

Nothing   Wanting
You.

Are you in them rivers?
In those herds?
These lakes of
                     Lips
kissing the silences of melancholy?

Means nothing to
want…

You're poetry

Feeling
      much much more
than
        pedestrian...