I still believe in magic.
I just know
she's got some
kind of a spell on me.

Everywhere I look,
I see her pretty penetrating-eyes.

Everywhere I sniff,
her sweet-fragrance permeates
right through me.

Everywhere I touch
in the wee hours,
she's there in fiery-spirit.

Everywhere I eat,
I taste her delicious musk,
it satisfies my wanton-appetite.

I kiss the air to feel her
& she's there
kissing me back.

I am smitten by her runes,
in tune with her
on the same astral plane.
She is in my soul
at a transcendent level.
If that's not a love spell,
then I don't know what is.

She's absolutely delicious,
sweet like a nectarine,
light fuzz covers her
in all the right places.

I love the way she gushes,
so juicy like a ripe peach,
flowing in abundance,
heavenly-stickiness,
her face looking stellar.

She's very kind
& super fine,
teaches me
how to love her,
tasty like a cobbler,
I gobble her up
every chance I get,
it drives me
out of my mind.

She's definitly not a pet, but
rather a bowl of succulent fruit,
******* the size of peaches
with stout lovely-*******,
as hard as the pits.

I can't wait
to jam it with her,
I want  to make some
marmalade
of my own.

I swear they're trying
to drive me insane.
Six inches by two,
underwear
& my **** socks
so neatly stocked.
No creases on my hanging slacks,
my T-shirts are perfect,
look at my boots shine.

But surely, I'm ******* mad,
there's a speck of dust
under my bunk,
how'd I miss that imperfection?

My luck really ***** bad,
those brown-rounds
have left me another
mountain of tossed-clothes.
I feel myself slipping,
I'm losing my mind,
'cause I gotta do this **** all over again,
for the thirteenth time.

O where
O where
can my baby be,
is she a dead mystery,
now just ancient history?

I have million dollar questions
& I stand alone,
holding the bag
with an empty billfold.

She wore swastikas
on her forehead like scabs,
etchings that perhaps
blinded her heart &
the bitterness did flow,
a lifeblood
hardening her sweet-soul.

She acted bold,
took wild risks,
pulled people from the line-up,
taking potshots with their emotions,
play-acting with other humans,
as if she were the only one
with heart break.

Well,
little did she know,
she had no monopoly on pain,
I did.

You can walk on the sun,
dance in a hurricane,
eat pickled pig's feet,
smoke rolled banana leaves,
**** ether,
camp out on Pluto for all I care,
I just want to be next to you.

I dive headlong into the fray
on a secret mission,
so exuberant
craving the lava flow,
the adrenalin fixation,
creating an *******
in the warrior-mind,
she covers me with
explosive pixie-dust.

Lust shakes my rivets loose
in a fiery demise,
'till I see
those Chakra-eyes
begging for release
again & again.

I remember her distinctly,
she wore green flannel & cargo shorts,
Che cap & a stuck sunflower,
her braids exploded from under it.

She was proud of her antler-handled side knife
& jump boots, traipsed around
like she was on the nature boardwalk,
I heard she stalked Sasquatch once.

That girl was
the consummate outdoors woman,
she knew all about trapping,
skinning & first aid,
could make water
spring  from the ground.

Her grin was infectious,
a true aura of love hung
like dander around her,
her sensuality screamed
silently from her twinkling eyes,
the color of azure.

I was with her for one summer,
then I moved out of her sacred-valley.
Every time I look at the stars,
I remember her campfires
& the times we spent
at Moondipper
in each others arms
tasting marshmallows.

Waking up at 0330
to get into formation
to march two miles
to take your ***** ******* laundry
to the cleaners is weird.  
Like this **** couldn’t wait.
Like what the hell are we going to do in combat?
Stop the ******* war,
tell the enemy to hold back the bullets
while we clean our clothes.
Christ, we could have
at least gotten up at 0500
to do this ****.
Besides, it’s peace time anyways,
who really gives a rats ***
if we have ***** clothes or not?
Certainly, not the enemy!

That bug took her by surprise,
knocked her down in the first round,
it pasted her mouth shut.

She didn't make a sound for days,
the fever took her out,
she was poppin' aspirins.

Normally,
I'd tell her
to bite the bullet,
take a shot of whiskey
& call me in the morning.

But I'd never wish
the devil on her tongue.

So tonight,
I'm dreamin' of
black tea and roses
for that sweet baby.

The pitter patter of raindrops
echoes in my silent tomb,
a melody plays out for me
& this feeling of loneliness.

I wished now I had
shingles instead of aluminum,
the loudness if the tune
is deafening.

Then again,
maybe mister lonely
needs to wake up,
get his own place
& move on,
leave me alone.