Like sweet baklava,
sitting on a plate,
tempting decadence,
between thin layers.

Light and airy and opaque,
just like phyllo dough,
slowly I remove the top,
seeking out the flesh inside.

With deft touches of tongue,
sampling the flavors,
honey sweet, buttery smooth,
a hint of rose and orange.

I continue exploring her layers,
my dessert, my sweet, my all,
when finally there are none left,
revealing the pure nectar.

Quickly I drink from the fountain,
rehydrating, invigorating, growing,
all consuming, fed and drunk,
I am satiated, by her.

I know of a place out where nobody goes  
empty underground  cistern that nobody knows
under the skeleton of a disintegrated windmill
surrounded by mesquites at the base of a hill

A crawl in game trail is the only way in
it is how I found this den of sin
my list in hand and a bottle of chloroform
I gather my quarry, as they weather  life's storm

The first in the parking lot of the movies
the next coming out of the LETS GET GROOVY
the last in the alley behind the courthouse
crept up from behind, quiet like a mouse

Tied and gagged, dragged to the den
where I intend to dispose of them
how, I am undecided
I have plenty of tools in to divide them

Chainsaws and axes, rifles and pistols
machetes and acids, even a long sharp crystal
when they wake up shackled to the wall

They will understand once and for all
that they will be disposed of piece by piece
it is doubtful if they shall ever have peace.

Shadowed dream reality,
peppered curious chaos,
delving into karma
with a silver teaspoon.

Stirring dangerous emotions,
in cauldrons of cast iron,
where hearts once were,
now cold and dark, the fire gone.

Irradiated kisses burn,
into skeletal cheeks,
once plump with joy
now evaporated.

Sweet condensed tears
drip dewy trails,
falling on empty palms,
dried, unable to rehydrate.

Parchment soul written,
the final story read,
now crumbled
and blown away.

Down the dark alleyway,
bodies strewn to both sides,
cardboard boxes inhabited,
the stench of life wafts.

Glowing in the darkness,
pure white against the dirt,
a form emerges, alabaster,
venus de milo proportions.

Naked, she walks, new to the scene,
perfect ******* bounce in time,
to rhythmic steps,
makeup, coiffed, and ready Mr. Demille.

New meat for the grinder,
the predator's grin,
their bags and needles on display,
free samples here.

A ****** cherry ripe for picking,
the spoon heats and flame crackles,
the needle, borrowed, pierces the skin,
the statue begins to crumble.

Lost in my colors match and mix,
but you always watch my six,
literally and figuratively
I always know you're in love with me.

My souls *****
Torn

My mind
Penetrated

My love
Buried

My emotions in
Ruins

A zombie husk
Wanders

Like a cicada shell
Hollow

A once favorite toy
Discarded

I once was vibrant
Colorless

Why have you
Destroyed

What you once
Loved

The voices in my head
leak onto the page
they get me into trouble
or at least set the stage

Other times they set the mood
for loving cuddle, or flaming lust
I simply set them free
and in my thoughts I trust

Beautiful or silly
they burn their way out
its why my filter has holes
and things come out in a SHOUT

Her secrets contained,
within my mind,
memories unwrapped,
like birthday gifts
to be revisited,
like tchotchkes on the shelf,
wrapped by Victoria but it was not her name.

lost inside a vision,
trapped inside a touch,
crushed red velvet dreams,
white fleece trim is just too much.

overloaded sensations,
softness on my skin,
this naughty little elf,
has aroused my sin.

hats cotton ball tassel,
dragged all over me,
has me excited,
I think that she can see.

her fingers roam around,
my undecorated tree,
silky soft touches,
almost set me free.

her gifts are all wrapped up,
but I'm about to see to that,
throw her to the bed,
and put on her red hat.

pulling on a string,
the robe opens wide,
a gorgeous Christmas dream,
had been trapped inside.

I feast on her cookies,
and drink up all her milk,
and give her a present ...
deep inside her silk!

wake up Christmas morning,
bodies tangled in red fleece,
her hat still on my head,
she asks for another present, please.

Memories of making love
under bridges in the fall,
our bed of golden leaves,
continuing to blow over us
on the afternoon autumn breeze.

Cinnamon, clove and spice,
was the taste of you,
all morning baking pumpkin pies,
I begged you for a walk.

Dirt road dust,
the sound of the creek,
the splashing sounds as we threw rocks.

I kissed you neck and lips,
as if tasting the divine.

You grabbed my hand and lead me under the bridge.

Worshipping the V
She tells me to silently
Waiting on my knees

Start and do not stop
So I try to make her pop
No lash from her crop

Psychedelic mentation,
****** predation,
I feast upon her nectar,
found nothing any better.

As the swirling lights,
take me to wuthering heights,
I wallow in her slime,
feel absolutely sublime.

Clear as crystal on the beach
seconds later, sight cannot reach
as if gauze placed over my eyes
on that sense I can no longer rely

I still hear the waves and taste the salt spray
but the sight of ships, is  what I pray
cruising in the aquamarine sea
take in the impressive a sight to see

The mists roll in and cloud the scene
a bit of fright, into the serene
swirling and moving ghosts and ghouls
in the early morning sun, our brain is fooled

The soup blows away with the breeze
kicks up the sand, and the leaves
clears the view, and dries the sweat
into the water, great tide to get wet.

Sitting here sand in my crack,
in my RTIC coke and black jack,
rod and reel bounces in pvc,
waiting on tides to change the sea.

Flip flops, with bottle opener underneath,
you know the ones made by Reef,
yee yee cap shading the sun,
days on the beach are loaded with fun.

Costa lenses tinted green,
polarized to cut the sheen,
sun rays reflected off tanned tone skin,
I wish this is the place I was in.

Alas, I'm here at home, daydream,
COVID 19 has me quarantined,
I sit and sit, all projects complete,
hoping for the virus to retreat.

If your drinking, cause you're thinking,
about her and her new beau,
just keep pouring shots,
and let the pain all go.

Share a few, I know you can,
with the redhead that walked up,
smile at her and chat a bit,
keep filling up her cup.

The jukebox belts out country,
George Strait sings, take a chance,
as The Chair plays,
ask that gal to dance.

Two step slow, get to know,
what is she here for?
maybe she is thinking too much,
if so back to the bar and pour.

Drown you pain together
Y'all are now not all alone,
realize it's ok,
to move on from what you have known.

If your drinking, cause you're thinking,
about them and their new flow,
just keep pouring shots,
and let the pain all go.

Yesterday's comments still stinging,
like rocks thrown at my back,
the attack never complete,
as it plays on a loop in my mind.

I gaze enthralled
Into her eye
As it slowly closes
On the day
And I am embraced
By the night

The made up sky
With pinks and blues
Vanish
Replaced

By the blackness
Freckled with
Starlight
Pinpricks

Engulfed in
Shadow
Until my
Mistress

Is on the rise
Luna
Her golden face
Rises along with the tides

Tonight she wears
A Cheshire cat smile
I watch move across the sky
Until I close my eyes

The rooster crows
And I am alight
Once again in
Her light

As sol begins her trip
Across the sky
And our lives
Providing light and warmth

Better living through chemistry,
hiding in the sophistry.
drowning in the alcohol,
but my heart remains enthralled.

Upon the wind
I will ride,
my sails I'll tend,
against the changing tide.

I'll never break,
though I may bend,
this claim I'll stake,
until the end.

This fight I'll fight,
though I will lose,
with all my might,
I'll find the clues.

The ones that teach
how to truly be,
within our reach,
we can be happy.

It's hot on the tractor
the sun's beating down,
plowing my fields,
on the outskirts of town.

City girl pulls up
her lips are syrupy sweet,
brings me a jug,
say here have a drink.

I take a big ol' chug,
and I spit it right out,
she looks at me,
with a huge pout.

I looked at her,
and she looked at me,
I said,
You can put your sugar on my lips,
but keep it out of my tea.

But you're a plowboy,
isn't sweet what you drink,
I said that's what country music,
has taught you to think.

She walks on over,
presses her lips to mine,
I melt like candy,
man, that feels fine.

She looks up and says to me,
I guess you're not what you seem,
No, I'm much much better,
I say with a wink.

I looked at her,
and she looked at me,
I said,
You can put your sugar on my lips,
but keep it out of my tea.

Do you ever wonder why,
we are born so we can die,
and all through life we must try,
and through rough waters, we must ply.

Working hard for a piece of pie,
making wishes to stars in the sky,
speaking sarcasm with a wit that's wry,
then with our last breath, leave with a sigh.

Sitting on the boat as the sun goes down,
no lights on the docks, no lights from town,
man, I could use two or three or more of these,
watching constellations come up, Orion and Pleiades.

Hand in hand on the front deck,
I lean over and kiss your neck,
feel the goosebumps, on you rise,
I love you, you're my ultimate prize.

Shooting stars, on a new moon night,
the darkness is deep, but not filled with fright,
its filled with love, passion, and astronomy,
the perfect date, this is the epitome.

Little waves rock, the Blue Wave boat,
it is our castle the lake is our moat,
the smell of leaf smoke on the October breeze,
the last trip of fall, before winter's freeze.

Hand in hand on the front deck,
I lean over and kiss your neck,
feel the goosebumps, on you rise,
I love you, you're my ultimate prize.

Metallic bead necklaces,
in reds and greens, and golds,
dangle from necks,
and twirled around fingers.

Two foot tall
color changing glasses,
containing hurricane forces,
stirred with massive straws.

Quarter is invaded,
by screaming masses,
eating sweet colored cake,
hoping not to find a baby.

Briny boils and spice,
ignite tastebuds,
and start a sweat,
adding to the humidity.

Fried dough topped
with powdered sugar,
like a blizzard of sweetness,
brought by du monde.

Reptiles coast through bayous,
ghosts escape mausoleums,
ancient religions create
and control the living dead.

The once beautiful face,
now smeared with tears,
as rivers of makeup trail,
like icicles in winter.

Oh the pain and the strain,
of a man who knows not,
how to love his beautiful girl,
let his heart just rot.

All alone he'll spend his days,
wasted love gone by,
but he doesn't even notice,
the tear run from his eyes.

Oh to lose a love,
anger denial blame,
searching for the reasons,
finding none,
moving on, hopefully.

But faded love never truly fades away,
it hangs on like a cloud on a sunny day,
climbs upon your back, and never lets go,
It becomes a part of you neverending flow.

Broken yellow lines
stretch out before me
white lines bordering the blackness
the moon rises up ahead

A beacon, lighting my way
as I travel this life
following the hills
up and down

Occasional stretches of flatness
to the point of boredom
not a tree or bush
or creature to change the mood

The occasional beams
of another's eyes
as we pass
strangers in the night

Then up ahead
a curve in the road
a herd of deer
I swerve to avoid

Heart racing now
as the curves continue
surrounded by trees
waiting for the next creature to emerge

Sulfurous skunks
and prickly porcupines
and the amusing ring-tail cat
now pepper the drive

All senses alive
as I grip the wheel
living life to its fullest
as the highway continues

Climbing red bricks,
to beige trimmed eaves,
over and on to,
a grey corrugated roof.

Now staring out wide,
the bits and pieces of green,
stuck in the drab browns,
of the desert sands.

Silicate sparkles flash,
as the sun sets pink and blue,
a moving ***** toad catches the eye,
he stops atop a red ant bed for dinner.

Black chickens climb the ramp,
into the cozy maroon coop,
as black and white goats,
settle into their green hut.

Blackness falls finally,
after the last gasp of the sun,
the peppery darkness,
salted by silver stars twinkling.

Luna emerges from the horizon,
painted a deep blood orange,
that slowly fades to gray,
as she rises over time.

A wicked tongue
scathing wit
both in voice
and on the page

Do not tempt the poet
or you shall suffer all his rage
lyrically whipped in rhyme and verse
is what you have in store

You will be babbling to keep up
and slobbering on the floor
when at last the words do stop
you will never want anymore

No holds barred, nothing held back
I go in on full attack
shed the blocker, I see his back
He feels me but now he's sacked

When on the winds of change we ride,
things must be taken in stride,
With the swirling currents we glide,
and do it all with strength and pride.

Whether we rise or we fall,
the phone is ringing, take the call,
No hesitation do not stall,
Just take it and run with the ball.

Through twisting turns and changing lanes,
or on the ailerons of planes,
Like the colors of of light through stain glass panes,
Striving just to remain sane.

Shattered limbs and lives,
storms aftermath path,
riddled with death and collusion.

Hitching a ride on my cigar smoke,
curling slowly into the air,
floating on my beers bubbles,
I simply am free from care.

Bass line bumps,
from the rap station,
heads all bobbing
a music vacation.

Watch the girls,
drop it low,
take it in,
that weekend flow.

Lawn chairs sagging,
the coolers cold,
hand me another,
if I could be so bold.

Washed up on a shore,
awakened all alone,
no buildings or people,
no huts of grass or stone.

Looking all around,
in the glinting sand,
bits and pieces of my boat,
waves carried to this land.

Do I sit and cry,
or gather what I can,
I must answer quick,
I'm the only one who can.

So I choose quickly,
to see if I can survive,
but I want to do more,
even alone I want to thrive.

So explore my island jail,
to see what is here,
fresh water spring found,
hogs, and some kind of deer.

Rats and seabirds too,
live upon this rock,
if they can, I can too,
I refuse to ever stop.

Is my life pure illusion
or merely thought pollution
either way confusion
is my conclusion

Cool waters engulf
chilling thoughts
nudging back to reality
as I follow bubbles
to the surface

The moon
a hook
on which to hang our thoughts
whether borrowed or bought
each and every night
like pages of a book
knowing where they'd be placed
knowing where to look

Cumin and Chile scent the scene,
the encounter was quite mean,
knives and tools spread around,
you should have heard the slicing sounds.

Piles of orange and white offal lay,
like pathology samples on the tray,
now crooked grins and odd shaped eyes,
stare from the darkness, quite surprised.

There's a beep and a rush,
just be careful don't get crushed,
everyone reaches on to the pan,
we are all toasted pumpkin seed fans.

Freedom paid for with lives and blood,
boots on the ground all around the world,
landing craft beaching on foreign shores,
as bullets, whizz by and bombs explode.

Aircraft were flown, in all manner of skies,
ready to act at a crackle of the radio,
the black depths patrolled by submariners,
watching and listening with tools of sound.

Floating on the surface of the worlds waters,
gun metal gray monsters loaded for bear,
the sailors pride evident in the gleam,
inspiring respect, and fear.

From out of planes they bail,
carrying everything they need,
landing behind and among the enemy,
this is where heroes are born.

Uniforms shined and polished
medals pinned upon proud chests,
tears fall down everyone's cheeks,
as flags are draped and salutes fired.

Freedom purchased with brave lives,
still, some must soldier on,
remember and respect,
the ones in uniform.

Flat planes trap my ideas,
there is simply no place to go,
out of the box, I cannot.
trapped within the opaque cube.

Shimmering scales underwater,
flashing rainbow colors,
jumping upstream,
caught in grizzly paws.

Tuille dreams,
hiding secrets behind,
longing for the future.

Chemical madness,
tie-dyed, spinning thoughts,
swirling madness.

The soul soars
free of its container,
speeding into the future.

And so the trip goes,
passion-fueled escape
into the new unknown.

Beautiful colors swirl,
clouding realistic images,
the truth is lost within.

Lost amongst the trees,
in the open jungle plain,
things hide and are never seen.

An unattainable wish,
it is against human nature,
the sadness of it all.

I find solace in the shadows
the darkness calms my nerves
the coolness reduces the burn
of life's pains and the sun

Other creatures lurk here
some evil, some subhuman
others slither or skitter
nocturnal things in the day

Still, there are times
in the darkest corners
red eyes glow
and bifurcated tails swish

Creeping critters
with low pitched growl
stay just out of sight
blurs in the peripheral vision

The there is the chair
the one I sit in
next to the cooler
in my trees shadow shade

There is no truth and no transparency,
I’m beginning to believe every conspiracy,
about our government, it is full of lies,
not even including the foreign spies.

From the top to the bottom, every occupant,
lying and cheating, running rampant,
not an honest one is included in the bunch,
they would like to enslave us is my hunch.

Figuring out how to not pay their bill,
and making regulations so everything is uphill,
the Fed just keeps printing money, though it’s worthless,
we just keep on borrowing it as well though mirthless.

To control our thoughts and what we do,
whether we smoke and what we chew,
nothing is off limits anymore,
they raid us, without even a knock on the door.

Deny us our liberty, constitution destroyed,
how can they even continue to be employed?
by We the People, make no excuse,
we elected them so I guess take the abuse.

Common sense has died and withered away,
political correctness is the rule of the day,
add in Muslim jihadist and all of their ire,
it’s like throwing gas on a funeral pyre.

A repeat of the 60s and Civil Rights,
de ja vu, though it continues to fight,
Russia has brought back the cold war,
Obama never even answered the door.

With Crimea and Ukraine and Syria,
no to mention the Yemen, Somalia and North Korea,
Iran and Iraq and Afghanistan,
too many problems to be manageably ran.

Antibiotics not working on bugs anymore,
the end of the era, and of what’s core,
attacks in Paris and Mali, soon where else,
I suggest strapping your pistol tight to your belts.

But that offends too, in fact, it is booed,
let in all refugees, so we are *******,
not all of them are bad, most probably good,
but it only takes one, just ask folks from Fort Hood.

I don’t have the answers, and I do not pray
God gave us a brain to make it go our way
but we must sleep in the bed which made
it’s like watching one hopeless parade

find good where you can and take care of your friends
and family, as what we know comes to an end.
the state of the world should cause some fear
so try to sit back and relax and enjoy a beer.

Enigmatic music plays in my head,
setting the scene for what is to come,
my cryptic grin seems out of place,
but my mind is three scenes ahead.

Rarely does reality follow my oracular thoughts,
perplexinglingly  though, I am rarely surprised
as to the actual outcomes of the scenarios.
I am entertained, but rarely a victim of my own mind.

Ambiguous questions, resulting in vagaries,
an answer is usually never close,
just more questions, basically rhetorical,
all good ideas with no way to execute.

Lost in the miasma of the everyday,
details distract, like a squirrel on a dogs trail,
or the sight of a beautiful girl, walking the aisle at Wal-Mart,
hey, it happens.

Running a hamster wheel with purpose and destination,
yet never getting to any of the planned actions,
such is life, or so they say.
Roll the dice and read the card, Good Luck.

Turn the switch to down,
hear the squeaking sound,
tight wound wire unspooled,
dropping the boat adventure bound.

I turn the key and the engine roars,
my stress level begins to drop,
three days of fishing starts right now,
with hope the bites nonstop.

But as the saying goes,
better fishing than at work,
out here there is no nagging,
or complaints from bossman ****.

The only **** out here,
are the ones upon the line,
the bass bites my worm,
set the hook and feeling fine.

Simple paper sacks line the sidewalk,
moving in the wind,
just trash waiting to blow away.

Christmas Eve, sacks glow from within,
candles flicker, with the meekest of light
yet fill our spirits with love and hope.

The display steals our breath,
as we walk down the street,
a lit path for visitors to travel.

On the shores of farm ponds,
and at the edges of lakes,
this is where my memory,
frequently does it take,

Fishing rod in hand,
I walk behind my dad,
casting out for bass,
none of this is sad.

Prowling through the mud,
throwing rocks and catching fish,
if only I could go back here,
sometimes do I wish.

So instead I grab the phone,
and give my dad a call,
tell him dates of the fishing trip,
we take together every fall.

Upon the land stupidity reigns,
common sense lost to time,
righteous indignation flowing thorough veins,
anything deemed offensive is a crime.

There is no rhyme or no reason,
vocal minorities lead the charge,
they killed history and holiday seasons,
with every day their ranks enlarge.

Lost in a lie that life is fair,
think through participation, they are owed,
but being human they only err,
but the weeds of life go unmowed.

Soon a jungle covers the land,
and no one gets to say their piece,
it's now a slippery *****, full of quicksand,
no one escapes the thought police.

Genders bent and words outlawed,
what once was funny is now shunned,
where there was laughter once guffawed,
we all sit in silence stunned.

Upon my dais, I must stand,
each construction brick a choice,
growing higher year by year,
with each decision and thoughts to voice.

There is no destiny, except the one we make,
there are no reasons we are here,
just a random bit of chance,
just take a look it's all quite clear.

So when you lay the mortar,
between decisions made,
will your building be secure,
with considered choices paid.

Or will it rock and twist,
with the blowing winds of change,
will it be square, cookie-cutter ticky-tack,
or will it be your own, secure but shaped quite strange.

You're the general contractor,
the platform of life you must build,
stand upon it proudly,
the power is yours to wield.

Tattered flags fly as flagpoles bend,
in the ever present New Mexican wind,
tumbleweeds roll and stack up high,
as all of the birds struggle to fly.

The dust blows dark and blocks out the view,
hide and take cover, here comes the haboob,
Walmart sacks and leaves scurry, crossing across the ground,
all that is heard is the winds roaring sound.

18 wheelers rolled over and into the ditch,
window whistles, but there's no tuning the pitch
the needle grass army marches, to the wind chiming beat,
there is no way to fight, just sound the retreat.

Waves of green,
then of amber,
then a beach of sand,
after the harvest.