Here.you can have this one easy, I wont struggle i wont even look.Here you can sharpen your pencil and jot me down in the book.Here....... cant spell CAT less I give C and T to U. And you think creation bubbles and boils in you. Sad sack of !!!. .....When I wanted my turn? oh no, you were way to busy reading tea leaves, mumbling mantras,consulting the zodiac Now you want me to rub your head and tuck you in bed,pull your blanky chin high and then tuck it, Hmm, too easy.

Verses with curses, you call that a  poem ?
Here. right here between the C and the T. good boy.          Now. Shall we begin the beguine.

                                                                                                  There once was a man from Belize  
                                                                                                  Who was stung by the poetry bees.
                                                                                                  
                                                                                                  He read books to distraction
                                                                                                  But couldn't get traction
                                                                                                  less I pushed for action
                                                                                                  To clear up his  those from his these..Duh
So Here. go visit Nantucket. Dont forget to take a bucket !!!.
Next stop Limerick.                                                                Here we go again. Next time I crawl back
                                                                                                 try to at least offer me chair. A " hey dude it's
                                                                                                 good to see you" or I swear I'm off again like a                                
                                                                                                 ***** shirt. Just you and that keyboard and                        
                                                                                                 blinky the cursor.Blink, blink, blink................
There.I finally got that unchested.
Feel so much better now, so Here take a letter now.

Here you can have this one easy.

The ghost of Bill Kettchel still sits glumly on the bluff
Not but a few paces from where he  was fell
He has risen majestic at night from the well.

Still screaming out loud, Hey give em hell boys, give em hell

Dropped in head a foremost by the heel of his boot
Give em hell goes the echo, by god give em all  hell

The fields glistened  brightly with crimson and gore
The fighting was grisly like none seen before.
All stacked up  like cord-wood a good  ten foot high, they smote grey and  smote blue
by  the hip and by the thigh.

Give em hell boys by god, came the echoing cry.

Now musket ball splatter, now cannon grape rain.
March through the death gauntlet and line up again.
As the dying lie crying Under shade tree spread wide.


I'm a Yankee doodle dandy. Yankee doodle do or die.
A real live nephew of my uncle Sam born on the fourth of July.
Look away ,look away look away.

Dumped in head a  foremost  by foot and by heel. My self, Andy, Caleb  
Rest daily in the well. By day we lie peacefull, at night we rebell.
Especially those nights when the moon is aglow
We rise to the mouth and we holler and shout.

Give em hell boys  by god, just send them all straight to hell.

Yes peaches.I did find you to be alluring.and
Yes. Is peaches your real name?

Yes peaches. I want to shake your tree. Sorry I ******* resist
Has anyone.?

Yes peaches are my favorite fruit. So what could be finer.
Peaches. I swear. I would run through a den of lions in a meat suit
To own your heart and all parts unknown.

No peaches.
If you give your heart to me I will keep it safe in a mason jar.


Your eyes in a bottle of formaldahyde.
Your lips in a jewelry case.

Yours truely.
Dr. H. Von Frankenstein.

P.S. do you like moolight walks and
Sleeping in late ?

Passed a young soul going north on the river
Crossed up his path southward bound was I headed.

Young man could you tell me where you travel from.
From the land of the misty he spake by and by.
From the land of the smitten and and the eye for an eye.

******* says I. There be no such place as the eye for an eye.

Then passed a fair maiden our eyes never met
She toiled and she labored against furious tide.
What therefore awaits thee I asked with great dread
A dull blade in yon castle now beckons my head.

Twas now dark in the distance . Now hollow and dank
So I made for the landing not sure of the tide.

Now the wind rose around me now blew me to deep
It was then It came to me, surely I sleep.
Tis no dream I assure  thee . No digestive woe.
It is written you go down, and down you shall go

******* says I tis naught but a dream.

Now the waters grew angry
The wind whipped about.
It was then that I fathomed the fix I was in.
I had earned my full wages let the payment begin.

1.complete th bridge to the moon started by
Jules Verne and raise the Nautilus..

2.Rebuild the colossus of Rhodes to spec.

3.Take a trip to John Gotti's summer home and split a bottle of Boones
Farm apple wine with him and Emelia.

4. Pull a small sample of bone marrow from Hitlers shriveled corpse for a
Little cloning project that I have been working on.

5.get a head count on all the politicians in the capital who don't consider
Their position a life long free ride with no accountability to the masses..

6. Resurect the cold fusion argument.

7. Run a sub 2 minute mile.

8.kick Tysons but with my right hand tied.

9.mix the perfect martini

10. Start all over again.

Africa. You are bereft. Africa means pain to me.
Too vast for sympathy past token.
Too old to not know better
Too wise to have no answer.

Much too late for Africa

****** mother Africa.
Bleeding from the eyes
Seen too much of suffering
Flayed to the bone then left alone.

What has not been said compared to what's been done.

Laying on a dusty road
At the easy leisure of the the passerby.
So vast, Primal still tribal and divided.
Africa you will endure. Pain. Africa.

The sweltering Jungle. The scorching sun.
Oh Africa.

You are Beautiful.
You are destined.
You are horrific
all wrapped in butcher paper.

Still to the highest bidder.
Numb to the lash.
Cries go unheard.
Gnawing at your limb gripped tight
in vise-like turmoil. Oh Africa.

I love you for what you have been.
I love you still for what you are.
I pray Africa.
Oh Africa.
Peace. Be still.

Now I lay me down to sleep. It is near 2:00 P.M,Pacific time.

I pray the Lord my sleep to keep. Been tossing and turning a lot lately.

If I should Dream before I wake. No March Hares if you please.

I pray the lord my twitch to take. Restless leg syndrome.

Goodnight Insomniacs.
Late night surfers.
Medicated Jitterbugs.
Jet-lagged Travelers.
Partners of snoring bed mates. With or without earplugs.
Late night ruminators.
Wanna be fornicators.
See ya later Nocturnal alligators.

Inspiration is but a breath away.

Double edged sword is a pania machette
In Belizean lingo.

Conquistadors blade. Slicing on the
Downstroke. Slashing on the up.
Forked tongue.simile

Can't turn the other cheek.
Nor close the gap.

Quisling?,
Smiling mouth
Eyes of death.

Ben Arnold wasn't a bad guy just
Bad information.
Pania machette in hand, flicking blood of the end.

Reaching out with the free hand
Smiling sweet treachery.
****** and rip.

I Kinda like the female variety.
The male... uh not so much

Hard to not wonder
What exactly lies down under.

******* on Equipoise.
****. She caught me looking.

The black mariah takes four to a side and it jostles my spine
The window is small so no light can force through so no one looking
In can look in and see you.

Got picked up again on bogus construction.
Going down to the castle for chaos and ruction.

Just cant seem to waylay my certain destruction.

So bad boy. Bad boy wacha gona do.
Wacha gonna do when they come for you.

Puffing profoundly on an old bone pipe.sat the old woman on rickety stool. A white tendril seeking altitude from schorching embers.
A wafting spirit casting errant admonishment.

Dusty footpath of a million footfalls all on missions of redemption lovelorn weeping allotments of anguish,pain and hope.FULLSTOP.
At sunbeaten,rainbleached risers three in number.
Splitpea fragrance wafting to greet.
Maybe collards too.

"What can I do for ?" But having asked,she already.knew.
To.walk.out to.the.shack.was.a.profound procession.
Made by many,owned by.few
Seeking solace from.the.witches brew.
"You need.a.poultace ?
Cast a spell for.you. ?

Fix it so.she.never leave you ?

Aint nothin.much.that.I.cant do.
Gonna fix.it.for.you.

Ramshackle rundown house of dreams,nightmares and stalking horses.
Beads and potions.come back lotions. Love notions out the window.like startled ratbats.

The little shack of sorrows.
Old time mystic.sitting on a stool.
Jingle pennies in pockets.

Yonder comes nother fool

When I was younger
I got high for perspective.
. Mostly
Though I discoed with John Barleycorn.
Doing the hustle and the bump.
  Then
Now. What a chump
Powdered my nose a bit
Too.
Superman in flare-wide bell bottoms.
Platform shoes.
My left foot.
Still hurts.

Love to meet my guardiaan angel and
Buy him a drink.
He put in overtime
Thanks.

Synaptic explosion.
Unigue and bright..burns and crosses the chasm.
A new existence in the universe.

Like a fistfull of ligtening.

Never to be again.
No rerun. A salmon upsream. A creative anchor. A fitfull dream.

The stream washes both sides of the shore.
Draws inward and onward and downward and more.
Silt and bramble...a preamble

A fistfull of lightening and nothing more.

You stop to start my dear heart.
                                                 Whispers of cannot be invade your ears.
The night is cool and sullen. Your crystal ball swirling.musical chairs. Winding stairs with no answers.

The ceiling mocks your hopefull stares
Your pillow caresses as passion fruit swirls like crimson clouds.
Mocks aloud.

Easy to be hard.hard to be easy.

Rusted splatter lingers echoing past injustice.with scars stretched taut.

Sullen is the night.

                                                We ask the question.the answer stands akimbo. Glaring. Defiant to the senses.
Beginning's end ushers end's beginning.

Who is to blame?
The moth or the flame.           Truth is farce. A tepid liar.

Rules are amourphous. Real or tristy.
So. We ask.again.again.

Who is to blame?       Careless moth?
                                  Mercilesss flame ? Who.is to blame.

Unrepentant with a hole in her soul
The brass faced liar has steely control
Nothing fazez her. no fib was too big or small. Man this girl was a smooth criminal and a really close acquaintance

She would give a polygraph the shakes
and it's our little secret. umm, Mom and dad know.
family secret.

I reversed engineered the brass faced liar
and all the tumblers clicked.

The truth to her is like Kryptonite to Superman.
I dropped a small stone down her throat one day and counted to ten
before it hit bottom with a far away clunk..

Faceof brass ,heart of stone.animal rescuer
Liar to the bone. Manipulates children poor self esteem
Brass faced liar isn't what she seems.

Out.  To impress now.finally starting to dress now
Drawing flys like rotten meat.

Wicked comes in all shapes and sizes
Turn back the covers,know what your surprize is ?.

A zombie in a guilded mask.
Long dead and putrid..a walking talking husk.

Lies pour out of her mouth like green blowflies
And crawl back in under her disguise.
To fester.
Brass face jester
R.I.P.

My expression in verse and word.
It is my rock.
My salvation though I. Walked away when limbs were healed. Over the
Years. It sat in dusty corner like the forgotten bookcase.
Runway living.      Reaching for the next thing distraction.

Social interaction has become a relic. As we wiggle and prance but
Speak less about truth. Face to face. Eye to eye.

Raise your hands out there if you hear me.
Look up from. The screen if you know. Ditto.



Pain is the great equalizer. Fatigue makes cowards of us all.the mighty has a date as well as the meek .
Nod your head if too weak to speak.

I swear. This coil.

This man-ifestation of struggle and toil.
Fear not. The bottom approaches with a rush. A sudden stop.
It is the anticpation that tingles and teases.
Breathlessly we glide.



My words are my blessing and damnation. Barbed and tipped with buffalo ****.

Sweet as the sweetest nectar. Volatile   and ******.
Willful and recklessly they exit to strike and injure.caress. Convince.

My fathers legacy. Process of elimination.
Truth. Has gone wanting today
Never to return I fear. A vagabond.outcast.
A *****.

The wellspring rustles and bubbles patiently not stagnant.

Time is of essence an essence. In essence. A dab or two behind each ear.and sodium pentothal. politicians fess up.
Money caves see sunlight in all corners the thief has absconded. The judge

Slinks down from his perch blood red hands clasped behind his back

There stands the summit. Still I must climb. Unknown the other side.
Will truth abide? there .Another expanse of lies and  distortion.Trickeration says I.
a misty bog. Listen. Bagpipes ?. The leafless branch vibrates  a siren song to the sod.

The shimmering pool in the parched desert of god.
I stagger foward now unaware. No I am past caring. The will still is there
A ghost. Soon soon.

No ?. No. A mirage

Tales told to me by my grandmother of  the Duende.
as the campfires danced . The black leopard
stood far back in the trees

A ghost in the machine as we describe it today.

Jettisoned by the sun gods
for knowledge of self one little elf.

Now Boogeyman
Hobgoblin.
Troll. A manifestation of all men fear.
To walkabout and scurry in the pale moonlight.
The Duende awaits  the ship in the night sky
lift him up away to the
end of time.

I fell down in the pit
And somebody stomped on my glasses.
People nowadays have no manners or compassion I swear.
All this pushing and shoving for material gain. Just sat right there on the floor and cried so.rude.
I just wanted a nice night out you know a good meal with a glass of wine and a  little dancing.
Guess I'm going to call it a night.
Mosh Pit phobia for life.
Who knew.

I licked my finger and raised it to the air.

And set sail.
due North. Tacked a bit east. sea spray lashing
me down to the mast.

I saw Ahab in the distance aboard a white monstrosity.He seemed quite happy.
The years had been kind. A Fulfilled destiny.
I envy him so to surrender.

I tacked south.
some strange feat but a mighty ****** am I. The wind at my beck the stars at call.
sextant be dammed. I will rise where I fall. or sink.
Brinkmanship my stock in trade.

The wind remained  at my back for a score and one.
my shirt in tatters. Still tied to the mast.
Howling banshees beckon me shore.

Nevermore.

He said I'll love you till I die
She told him you'll forget in time

But as the years went slowly by.
She still preyed upon his mind.

He kept her picture on his wall.
Went half crazy,now and then.

But he still loved her through it all.
Hoping that she'd come back again.

He kept some letters by his bed.
Dated 1962. He had underlined in red.
Every single I LOVE YOU.

I went to see him just today.
Oh but I didn't see no tears.

All dressed up to go away.
First time I'd seen him smile in years.

He stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door.
And soon they'l carry him away. He stopped loving her today.

You know,she came to see him one last time.
Aw and we all wondered if she would.
And it kept running through my mind ."This time he's over her for good".

He stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door.
And soon they'l carry him away.

He stopped loving her today.

Can you tell when the magic is  about to happen.
When the hook is taking hold.

Do you get  a funny feeling when it comes together
When the reason finds a rhyme

The feeling fits the word.

The senses  click when the tumblers fall in line.
The phrases hover then flutter.

A drifting mist takes flight. It soars  defiantly.  

A fleeting thought turns slowly round and round.
A drop of rain falls slowly then swiftly then ripples on shimmering pond.

Ripple, ripple wider still  running free to bank.

The lapping sound I hear in deep. Indeed the simple echo.
My mind asks how this came to be. In truth it even puzzles me .

Call it what you will my friends. I call it poetry.

I now  careess  my  blue guitar. It takes me on the journey
The instrument it masters me as I have learned the rote.

A dewdrop trembles  on  the   E string then echoes and cries softly. Fretted gently it


whines and squeals in sad ecstasy. The blues in my hand.


The motion in my mind.
The ripple of the pond.
The union.               Nubile and free.

Rode the dog. From podunk to new.york

My introdutory mugging was all that I dreamed of and more.

32 stitches and a mild concussion

Bright lites big city goin to my head.

Got a job running #s and a rap sheet too


What's a guy going to handle when his rent is due


Bright lights big city going to my head
I don't care cause you don't. Care

That woman really messed with my head.

I think she had issues. She left me whispering in bed at night while staring at the ceiling.

Ever recite her stuff in an altered state ?  California for instance.

"Sing a song of sixpence". ? Twisted.

"Pease porridge hot" ? My word.


"Wee Willie Winkie" ? I am scared of you.

Great stuff.

Thanks Mother. No really

A  Beautiful mind.

Random randomness that means nothing at all
Neurons sniping and watching things fall at random locations.
Connecting dots picking forget me nots and making a pile.
:-)

Too much time to ponder
Rarely brings a proper stance.
Attitude and confidence
No doubt will play a part.
Single minded narrow views
In time can cause confusion.
Talking is a calming breeze
In finding sound solutions
One will find a  smoother path and
Newer ways of Thinking.

Unless your a lefty then it crawls along the skyline.
Smudgless and contorted.

Unless the culture teaches right to left.
                      Otherwise.
                      Ride the skyline
                      Wrist like a cervical spasm?
                      A long necked goose preening his
                      Breast feathers.
Methinks a right handed world stinks to a lefty.
A much discouraged practice in the church when
                       I was just a lad
                       In league with the devil
Satans scribe.
Jesus Christ. I lapsed at 22.

I love god.
Just not the one I knew.
Do onto others as you would have them do unto you.

Case closed. Period. Full stop..