You're finally runnin' out of luck.
You got dealt a ****** hand.
There's time tomorrow to give a ****.
Today will understand.

Unique and beautiful,
What a wonderful flower.
Strike it up. It's four o' clock,
And twenty past the hour.

Every plant is wonderful.
We love them more with age.
But if you pick the Devil's bud.
They'll lock you in a cage.

Somebody, somebody, free my soul.
I want it.  I need it.  It's never gettin' old.
Somebody, somebody, fill this hole.
Before they escape, before they escape.

Eat me.  **** me.
Free me from this hell.
Beat me.  Break me.
I swear I'll never tell.
Never tell.
Of this hell.

Somebody, somebody, I am growing old.
I want to.  I need to.  It's worthless.
Somebody, somebody, before I am cold.
Let it escape.  Let it escape.

Eat me.  **** me.
Bust open my shell.
Beat me.  Break me.
Never could they tell.
Could they tell.
Of this hell.

Poetry of the ones who are lonely
are not the same as poetry the ones who are lonely
without someone.

I have always known,
once I let you into this room called my heart,
it will never feel the same when you leave.

And yet I do, I do again and over,
you are my every lover, my any lover,
I have never stopped loving you.

You are the life of my words.
My readers do not know you, but they too,
have known how any love could hurt.

Poetry hurts because poetry is love
and because poetry is you.
Without you I would never have found inside myself a poet.

The world could do with one less lover. One less poet.
But I could not have become me without you and my poetry.
And the meaning of my life is just as simple as that.

it is funny, you will be dead some day.
By you the mouth hair eyes,and i mean
the unique and nervously obscene

need;it’s funny.  They will all be dead

knead of lustfulhunched deeplytoplay
lips and stare the gross fuzzy-pash
—dead—and the dark gold delicately smash….
grass,and the stars,of my shoulder in stead.

It is a funny,thing.  And you will be

and i and all the days and nights that matter
knocked by sun moon jabbed ****** with ecstasy
….tremble (not knowing how much better

than me will you like the rain’s face and

the rich improbable hands of the Wind)

MacBain splutters,
long winded speeches,
intoxicating stutters.

Whisky reeks volumes on volumes of volumes,
unfathomable mysteries on infallible fumes.

Helga looks hideously **** tonight,
the ghoul in the corner looks up for a fight.
The toilet's transforming into a white telephone,
just one last drink until the drinking is done.

Redshot eyes light another cigarette,
Shooter all round,
and a beer what the heck!

The dance floor is moving like a seasick ship,
We all feel like rock stars defining whats hip.

Waiting for your life to begin

Waiting for your team to win


Waiting for the bus to arrive

Waiting for your kid to strive


Waiting for the rain to pass

Waiting for the bell after class


Waiting for the job of your dream

Waiting for things to become what they seem


Waiting for inspiration to come

Waiting to become rich and then some


Waiting for a person to change

Waiting for motion to become a range


Waiting for a bad mood to disappear

Waiting for your head to clear


Waiting for your boss to see your worth

Waiting for heaven on earth


Waiting for what is your due

Waiting for a cue


Waiting for someone to understand

Waiting for your enemies to be banned


Waiting for the world to get better

Waiting for that liberating letter


Waiting for something that will never come

Waiting for things to become undone


Waiting for wisdom to teach you

that waiting is just loosing time to get through