We all have infinite interior strength

Cycling, chasing love in my dream,
embodied by an unidentifiable spectra,
of a woman.
Through San Franciscan streets,
I reach a hill too steep,
but not for the woman I follow,
and
I, filled with trepidation,
attempting to remain surreptitious,
inch down
hands firmly squeezing on my brakes,
only to fall, flat on my face.

I sit front row on a mid-week ******,
in surprise to catch the closing act
of
the Berkeley based Morning Benders.
The drummer jumps down from the stage
to
land on my chest. "Ben!" He proclaims.
No.
"Bobby;" I exclaim. We catch up-talking
the state of Indie music,
as my family drives away from
the venue, into the distance, to leave me
in the biting cold. I forget my jacket,
and
walk back to the hotel, or, campground?
Freezing
and alone,
mid-******.

In the rough of the Devil's camping ground,
Satan, the Prince of Darkness himself tramps around-
holding the infinite trump card-(A 40 ft circle)
in which nothing living may stay and survive.    

I get into a fist fight, with a kid
who has been in the same rehab,
at the same time as me,
over the past three years.
In and out. In and out we go.
But, together.
He is lanky
and
gets hold of my wrists,
attempted head butts,
I struggle free
escaping his vice of a grasp
and
lay him out
with one right hook,
splaying him down to lay
between two cars.
For, we are in a parking lot,
(To mention this, I forgot)
outside of some conference
being held. I assume it is
recovery related. I always liked
this kid, and thought we were friends.
What happened?
I wonder.

North to the Liberties, let's
go to the punk show
and
dance as we would to
Joy Division, even when
everything is going wrong,
it can be ironic that we are
still so happy. Standing
outside with the kids in the know.
She stands staring, from her lips
hangs a clove. I dangle on the edge
of the wall, and stare back in awe.
Everything brightens clear, as
my senses are heightened. Everyone
warned us not to fall in love,
at this bar.

A very Bill Murray Christmas, takes us
by pleasant surprise. Cuddling in a
corner, with a fire crackling away.
This scene, is no dream. The rest are,
beamed from my unconscious.

We all have infinite interior strength

slizzy lizzy
drinks and
gets fizzy
i want her
to keep me
buzy

I am the commissioner of sewers,
king of rat's alley,
chancellor of the canine
graveyards.
This life right here is a party
and safari.

In hoc signo vinces:
In this sign you will conquer.

I am impetuous, adamantly
audacious.

Ic heb u liever dan en everswin,
al waert van finen goude ghewracht:
I love you more than a wild bore,
even if it were made of fine gold.

Twice or thrice
at 7 or 8,
me and the neighborhood gang,
discovered that head feels great.
So, we would all hang,
behind a propped up, parallel
wire frame mattress,
against a stone wall
in the alley.
And,
convince the younger,
more impressionable
eager to please,
to get down, on their
knees.
Until one day,
Joey told us all, this
was gay.
And,
then I was called a ******,
when I asked to have,
my wiener ******,
out of bad habit.

I've been a bit perplexed
by ***

ever since.

At this point, I chase the white rabbit
merely out of habit/

My, what big blue beautiful eyes she has.
All the better to eat me with, my dear.
And
My, what lovely lips she has.
All the better to see me with, my dear.
And
Those big swinging hips,
All the better to ****** me with, my dear.
And
Her ringing voice in my ear,
dissolves any fear.

The tide ever rolling,
rollicking into the beach
As
we are high, frolicking,
into the undertow tide,
to hide, from death inevitable.
My, what hair, let down, wrung out,
without a care, and through
this tangled hair.
My, death hath no sting nor fury,
for a man such as this,
me as it were,
her love,
oh my,
is pure purgatory.

Following the rabbit to the abbot,
white wolf unknown, disguised in full
habit.

Like leading lambs to the slaughter/
Like leading lambs to the slaughter/

A love such as this,
won in a bar barter.
Reach beneath her dress,
toss back the garter.
.
I beseech,

I do not think it will land in my hand  

And I will continue to chase the white rabbit,
purely out of habit.

Love
will mean
facing the problem
of pushing the button
that destroys the human race.

We pull, into the
Grand Canyon,
at sunset.
We toss and fling
giant rocks, boulder-
esque chunks of
Earth, off of
the side.
Someone screams,
they are upset, but
no regrets,

Am I evil?
   (All poems containing a question)
Am I pensive?
   (All poems containing an affirmation)

Blazing across Arizona,
dead dogs grovel,
strays, orphans searching,
seeking, looking for a home,
******* and copulating,
in, vacant gas station
lots. Not a bone,
to be thrown.

Where are our owners?
   (All poems containing a question)
This is enthralling.
   (All poems containing an affirmation)

Fear and faith,
carry us riveting,
through rivulets of clouds,
we sore, flying above,
searching for peace,
doves.

The woods would be very silent indeed,
if no birds sing except those who sing,
best.  

But,
she wants revenge,
with
a thirst for pain, I cannot
contend.
And
as the rain pours down,
sorrow falling from the
clouds.
She wants revenge.
And,
I simply cannot even
contend.

Laying lines out on
the metallic surface, of
With the Lights Out,
white powder flaked
along Cobain's black
and white face.
The drugs which killed
him, no longer causing
him any more pain,
merely giving this writer
some idolized thrill and gain.
And then high, reading
about one more creature,
dizzy with love.

*God gave us memories so that we may have roses in December