She is a playful songstress coyly looking
over her shoulder as she walks away with
just the hint of invitation on her lips. She

mouths temptation but no sound. The eyes

hold danger and pleasure unbound.

Just my weakness. The wicked razors edge  

that draws my ego forwards and my judgment

to earth.

How many times before have I done the dare.

The smooth and well honed edge will draw blood.

But. I am well numb to caution. Ego.
Twisted. The game is on.

I lived in island culture. But was coastal
The hunidity rose and the sun shone on cloudburst.

Ah those were days for swimming in the rain
White sand and blue water warm to the touch.
Man.

A gaggle of kids. Ready steady go.
Full tilt to the ocean likity split.
A two hundred yard sprint
Naked as J-birds .never seen one
Naked or clothed.

We.sprint to.the seaside.in warm driving rain.
                          Then splash and swim out
                                    And back.
And do it again
And again
In the rain
  Till the jet took
  Out to old. LAX.

Can you feel it when you synch up.

The words just come easy and things just make sense

Flow. Yeah it could be flow. Write this stuff for awhile and you may might just know.

Glide. Yeah a word coaster ride. Man just. Go up slow. And the whoop di doo comes rushing up at you almost like a high.

Stride. Sometimes I can do a forty or a 400 sprint. Then I just drop in to the runners high. Can't stop won't. Stop. Won't even try.

Mojo. Maybe.
Duende.
Spiritual.

Gotta pull back and stop now. Or it's going to be shuffle and glide
Till I drop now.

Man is it me or am I really flying.
You the reader look up and see if you see me.
Passing slow overhead turning and burning.
Out of body.

Seven days straight, the sun rolls up,always from the same
side of town and just the same way it gives up and lays down
The same buses run on the same old routes.
No letup.
So dream a dream.
Next day,instant replay.
Know what ? I know the  drill

Sunday.is like Halloween, Rubber faces and trick or treat with Reverend Ike.
Fire and brimstone. Please turn down ya cell phones.Pass the plate.
payola to heaven's gate.

Monday.Back on the grind, Blood,sweat and tears.
Grinding mental gears.Pop the clutch,Earn so little
Pay so much.

Tuesday.? just locked in. The Lotto is calling, cant win if ya dont play.
Teasin me bout easy street. Gimme my lump sum Then watch me fly.
Keep missin me with that later, greater noise.
Keep it real son.

Wednesday. Looking of into the sunset now.All ****** up
getting up for the down-stroke.Sweat  of my brow. Feel me NOW ?
Take a deep breath blow out slow. If you dont tell it then the devil wont know.

Thursday. Gettin closer to shore,Go for your backstroke  cause yer starting to
fade.  In through the mouth and out through the nose focus your gaze on the
circling crows? Crows ?

Friday. Ah snap yer ends came up short. Tax man just waxin yer ***.
Ghoulish?. Foolish. Some ends might not meet.

Sat-Day. Not so fat day. Pullin pocket lint by 6.PM.Chump changin.
is changin your mind. Gettin glimpses of stressin the old bump and grind On Moanday. ****.@%#$##$%@
expletive deleted.

Stun-day. Hungday?
Rake  your sh%@t in a pile day ?

No Doubt Assed out.
Hello... Monday.

Tellstar Orbits far now past this
Earthly realm.Decayed orbit he just quit.

If memory serves this was a special branch of the
Militaty U.K.
Those boys came to town to play.

Weekend rabble loose on leave.
Ready set by the truckloads.
Bully mother ******* in jungle boots.

Ready to blow a few months pay
And whip anyone's *** for looking the wrong way.

Rowdy and loud.


Imperialist ******.
Long on swagger short on ****.

Eh mate got any sisters about?
Asked one blatherin putz as he stimbled about.

Every now and then one strayed from the pack
Drunk and disorderly. Four sheets to the wind.


Well... he kept close after that.

I was about 8 when I became aware that
The big loud men in kilts and fatigues were men
On a mission an ill wind.
but victims of power same as we.

God save our gracious king


God save our glorious king. God save the king

Send him victorious.
Happy and glorious.
Long to reign over us.
God save the king.

She died a sudden death
at least the the bullets impact
slammed the door.
but I cant say for sure.
I hope so.

I dreamed her in repose a few months before.
I am not a dreamer nor  do I think I have a gift.
I saw her with ruffled lace around her throat
asleep still lovely in profile a hint of a smile.

The mahogany half lid removed. just her face
and I shuddered knowing it was a dream as I dreamed it .

                                                     You know when you know that you are dreaming
                                                        ­                    and choose to let it play out. That was the case.
I left her to her own devices knowing they were fatal
in the long term but not so long after all.
I knew she would find the rainbow even told her so

                                          Her death wish was  on display the day
                                                             ­             The brown van careened around the corner
                                                                ­          The blue sedan in pursuit shooting blindly
                                                         ­                 she stood and watched the show go by
                                                              ­            with no regard. I looked up at her from where I
                                                                ­          sprawled and knew for sure then that she
                                                                ­          hoped for the rainbow.
  Diana was her name.

  Out of sync with her existence.
  Boy how did she last that long.

  She  told me  once and never repeated
one warm California night as we sat on
the level roof of an adjoined  building from her apartment
we sat and watched the pinprick stars far away in the
black velvet sky drinking cognac as the city lights cast  from afar.
she told me.

She told me and I cried inside of a father
who took her innocence and made her prove her love in a twisted oral benediction.
Then It all made sense. We never spoke of it again and her scars glowed purple and pulsing
from within.

  

   All heart and soul.
   Caramel eyes that held love always
   Never anger or even pain. That
   was buried as deep as the hole
   she has lain in for years.

This is as close as I have come to saying goodbye.
She drifted backwards.
Old and new acquaintances
Toxic .

The end was brutal.
The rainbow at the end of the pain.

Beautiful brute dancing,playing chess with bare knuckled
explosions.Long past fear.
Tradesman in concussion.
Written on the wind.

His art on the canvas layed out in
Rusting crimson,spread deep and wide
as he slips and slides his masterpiece
of blood and teeth.

Swift dispatch, smiling
Stalker.
Jack Johnson.Jack Johnson.
Jack Johnson.

Tonight I. Stood next to a moaning spirit.
She told of days gone by and grief.
The low and mournful sighs delivered me to her doorstep
The portal where no light shone within.

The graveyard beckoned as I walked the quiet path.
Once inside the spirits rose from every corner. One wafting spectre
Drifted near she floated then stood on a headstone all alone. Stepping

down she rested a chill on my right shoulder. Fetted breath took me by surprize. Vacant eyes told a lifes story.

Faded youth. Faded glory. The spirit lived a fitfull life and passsed
With no fanfare. To sullen darkness. She did rest one hundred years.
Now told her tale.
To me. I gently. Aked why?
You are the catcher for my pain. She told the story
Once again then turned her back.
Wafted once again to rest. In peace.

There he goes skulking low.
Snake in tall grass.
There I see yellow tinged eyes
peeking hungrily from the weeds.

Ah ha.I saw him again out back behind silo number seven
Hey. There he goes again.
Slippery little sneak.

Up that hickory tree.   See claw marks on the trunk
High and low you have to know that the Devil is in
the details

****. What does it matter.
6 of 1. Half dozen of the other.
Don't call your pocket. Any port in a storm. 8 ball anywhere.

Why try hard. Still gettin a trophy.
Mediocrity is the norm. **** it. Any port in a storm.

Just gotta grab my ankles and be like the rest.
******* lemmings over the edge.yeah buti got friends?

With that kind of friend,who needs enemas.

Dummmy down. Don't make a sound.
Scared of cold hard facts.
The Norm.
Any ****** port in a storm.

Dam your ears look like handles.
I got an idea.cause you don't need them for listening.
Any port in a storm.

King wing nut fancied himself a fashion savant. No one was ballsy enough to tell him "you caahnt".
                                               He sewed a nice shirt from riverbed dirt.
                                              
"Wonderful sire was the obliging blurt.
                                               He stitched a cocked hat made from rooster
                                               Fat.

"Mahvelous sire was the rat a tat tat.

                                              He sewed wooden trousers
                                              to so many wowsers !!!

                                              His stockings were crafted from gobbledygook.

Superlative sire!! and "Oh goodness look"

                                              The Vapid sot laid down on a cot for a nap.
                                               He woke at two,recharged an refreshed.
                                              
He stripped down to the skin and proceeded to sew a suit from the thinnest of air.
He stepped to his throne from the twilight zone.
bemused and with hardly a care.
                                              What say ye now said the simplified oaf.

                                              All eyes drifted skyward as he strutted about.
                                              to applause and stifled guffaws.

"Your majesty has outdone himself".
"Leave the rest of your clothes in the closets and shelves.

                                              Nothing more needs be said.
                                              Gassed up and content with an over-sized head.

I wrote till the fire went out and it was do or die. He sent me a tool to build my resistance to the madness of the moment but the fire slowly died. Its so strange that this vehicle this tool that was dull  became sharp enough to draw blood, to hang onto, a blade.
So I hung on through misty nights and troubled waters.

Sometimes I stare at the scars in my palms where the blade dug into flesh but I had to not let go or fall into the crevices never to be return.
The scar tissues it never hurts or burns. This rope , this bramble , this blade. Amnesia made me let go so it is the long lost friend who tolerated me but knows all my inner secrets. I am ashamed to know you now so the words refuse me or in fact I refuse to utter. I'm still one foot in the gutter.

eight long years. Mamma gone now. Just the house remains. Alone now but the tool still shines brightly and beckons my touch. My crutch and faithful friend. Will it ever end ?

Yonder lies the barren stone
well placed. The howling wind now
shuttered in, a captive stripped and bound.

The parapets and walk- walks rim the edges of the stone.
a deathly shrill of spirits still confess the ****** sin.

A  postern gate squeals soon and late
The children of the wind.The howling specter
whips about from battlement to Bailey.

Soon to fade and serenade and  finally to sleep.
The centuries bound  now place the crown and  shackles dug in deep.
Now take you heed the spirit's need to rest within the keep.

Standing on the paraapet's wall pullling
At the sky

Arms stretched to the limit .reaching in vain
The keeper seems to pray for rain but the fervent prayer
He envokes. Pulling down the stars and soon to come

Skyfall.
                              Nightime comes on velvet wings
Summoning the other things.
That haunt our dreams
They shun the suns carress.

Deep within the castle's keep
Things that do not sleep huddle and moan
Hell's
'torment.
Gnawing at their *****.

They and all clasp.fleshless palms tight
And lament through each night
To pull the chains begin the rain
Bring about

Skyfall.

Battlements worn and washed in crimson
Centuries old spirits now scream out
From wordless mouth.
Desires unheard..no words can bring about

Skyfall.

From steeple to walk-walk
To rancid mote.
To ironed gape.
To dungeon deep.
Where death was sleep.

North and south within the keep.
Spirits weep.
They cry out for
S
     K
          Y
                F
                     A
                          L
                               L

Thumb and index.
Snare with caution.
To hold you firmly and into crocus  sack .
Land crab beware. Hungry Belizeans on the hunt.

The Blue land crab rises with the rain and fiddles
forward seeking feed.
Or flooded out from his cavern.
The night brings silence then
an eerie crashing and clacking
by the hundred thousands they run.

The season. when I was a boy.
The art to catch the big one.
Stalk and wait as he travels afar
staking out territory.

Cornered now in fighting stance
back against the wall. a finger
was the bet to get one by hand.

The cowards choice was the
coconut thong that fell from a dying tree.
The Kiss-Kiss two feet long.
The thong.

That was my choice and into the boiling ***
he goes. the  cauldron bubbled with a few
And maybe even crab stew.

I still have ten fingers five a hand.
The Kiss-Kiss my friend to the end.
I was chicken but the blue crab
went down the hole with ease.
No worries. The coward's way out.

Kiss -Kiss Rule.

The love of my life is very special.
She's my one and only Harley.
She was the half of my heart.
She was my buddy and my comforter.
She liked to give lots of kisses.
When I looked her in the eyes I felt very warm and happy inside.
Her kisses weren't to slobbery or to dry.
They were just perfect.
I miss her with all half of my heart.
She was my baby girl for a very long time.

IS LEAVING. HIS WORK IS DONE NOW
TIME TO STOW HIS GEAR. PUNCH THE CLOCK
STREET LIGHTS FLICKER IN HIS WAKE.
SUNNY SIDE  UP.

Short shadows from the east carry forward a message.
to the man in the moon to rise and shine again.

1968  I remember 1968..
The land of milk and honey.
The war was still cold but not
The Tet. That ***** was hot.

1954 I made my debut. Lotta my boys did too.
** chi Minh amped up his crew.
Can't. We all just get along.

No way LBJ. Young guys all over town stressin the lottery.
The randomness of body bag.
Friday hip deep in rice paddy.
Monday a letter to your moms.

Fourteen years old on sensory overload.
The evening news.
Burn baby burn.

Da bomb. Sauteed mushrooms.
Drop drill in all the classrooms.
Lesee. If I crawl under this wooden desk with hands over head then
I wont end up toast ? Outa sight.

Puff That Muthfkn dragon. He still got a condo by the sea ?
I remember thinking how  privileged and exciting to live in the USA.
But. Burn baby burn.

Watching late night reruns till the station signed off. No CNN then my fren.
The Duke.
Abbot and Costello meets The Mummy.
Free T.V.That was a first for I.
No T.V. In Belize. None. No gun violence either. Hmmm.

My Lai.            The Panther Answer.