Draw inhalations
and breathe out rings,
as the bobber floats,
patiently waiting.

A swig from the flask,
against the mornings cool,
a bullfrog sings from the bank,
and the smell of lake mud.

Childhood memories
swirl up from the past,
triggered by location,
tastes, sounds and smell.

The cork is ****** under,
I set the hook,
and reel in just one more,
memory to be stored and savored.

She sheds her robe,
as white lights strobe,
music booms real loud,
as screams come from the crowd.

She grabs the pole and climbs,
the scene is so sublime,
spinning and turning she slides down,
like a slithering serpent to the ground.

Then she pops to dance some more,
the crowd let's out another roar,
her body oozes sweat,
her hair hangs damp and wet,

Swirling hips and fingertips,
roaming hands and licking lips,
Neon flashes blue and green,
adding too the boys dream.

Red hair whipped side to side,
on a lap she will ride,
but only for a second or two,
lots of boys dreams to make come true.

Old sun bleached boards
creak underfoot, some sag,
under the weight of years
and threaten to quit as I step.

The old rusty open sign,
lies through its teeth,
as its one remaining chain
complains in the breeze.

A dust devil walks slowly
through the old worn out town
bringing the smell of history
with notes of manure and gunpowder.

Shattered windows and broken hearts
are seen and brought to mind
peppered with exciting gold rush
and gunfights, scenes from another time.

I return to the now, as my ignition starts
and I drive down the lane, once filled
with horses and buggies and schooners,
in the distance shiny new, behind me ghosts wave.

Through the pickets stared,
at the lady who was bared,
in the summer sun,
he was only having fun.

Walking between houses,
on the way to a friends,
he never really knew,
how this adventure might end.

He heard the waters splash,
and decided to take a look,
he saw her lay down,
and begin to read a book.

Water drops ran,
between places he had dreamed,
never in his life,
did he think he might have seen?

The lady two doors down,
on display, her beauty shown
and since then he volunteers
when her grass needs to be mown.

At night in his dreams,
he sees her in her glory,
to say he is excited,
isn't nearly enough story.

Charcoal smeared gingham,
hangs from malnourished bones,
like curtains on an abandoned house,
whose windows have long since broken,
yet a spirit is contained behind blue eyes,
a life that refuses to break into dust.

Iron willed.
blossoming as others wilt,
riding the waves of hardship
as others drown in the tsunami,

Moving quickly,
most are frozen,
hibernation I shun,
while the masses settle in.

I have no time,
while their clock stands still,
my fingers race,
outpacing the second hand.

Through the portal of my mind,
I never know what I might find,
animals talking or a visiting alien,
synapse snapping, having fun.

angels fall to earth
arrive as daughters of man
through love, create more

The angle of her arms,
as she arched her back
in a cathartic stretch,
caught my eye,
along with her apple cheeks
dimpled in a smile.

The church bells rang
out the Cambridge chimes,
as the camera flashed.

The birds in the bath
perched as if posing,
a picture in the park,
taken by the tourist,
that picked up a feather,
as a matching souvenir.

The boards on the bridge
of the wooden walkway
creaked, underfoot, over the creek.

The ball flew across the distance
made a popping in the glove pocket
as the children exercised muscles
in their small flexing arms
and in their expanding lungs
with contagious giggles.

The bees buzzed around my nose
as I stopped to sniff the ruby roses
growing along the rocked path on my way home.

Pack a bag!
Get in the car.
Where are we going?
Not very far.

When will we get there?
When we arrive.
How will we feel?
Alive and revived.

How long will it take?
As long as it will.
Why does it matter?
We have time to ****!

What will we do?
Have some fun.
Enjoy each other,
in the summer sun.

Will there be mountains
or will there be beach?
I'll let you know,
just as soon as we reach.

Will we go swimming
or will we fish?
Whatever you want,
whatever you wish.

Destination unknown,
full speed travel
Straight on till morning,
questions unraveled.

Embers light,
protection slight,
pray it holds,
til night folds.

In the eye of calm,
only you can walk,
the rest rages,
swirling around us.

Deep thoughts of love
and of the danger very real
sometimes is required
for the deep wounds to heal.

Upon the streets,
faces were hidden,
armed with ***** and beads.

In my hand a swirling hurricane,
as I walk down Bourbon street,
numb I am, like novocaine.

Swaying hips from side to side,
dressed like Carnival in Brazil,
how I do long to be inside.

A turn, a smile, a pose, and flash,
and the exchange of some beads,
pictures on my phone, memories to rehash.

She laces her fingers into mine,
walks me off the street,
her lips taste like the finest wine.

Unmasked now with carnal need,
in the alley, just off the quarter,
on each other we feed.

My mind is a magician,
creating illusions to stop the pain,
sleight of hand and heart,
to comfort the emotional brain.

Some deep dark fears
to bring you to tears,
nightmares realized
emotions crystallized.

Your throne is now ashes,
you glass palace is smashed,
you could not contain
me with your disdain.

A bit of death
to steal your breath,
a bit of pain
and pouring rain.

Only here and now matter,
row your boat through life's dream,
other things are but a flavor,
on the travels down your stream.

Waiting for fate,
to fill your plate,
wasting your last breath,
while starving to death.

Things outside, start within the mind,
ideas swirl and combine,
into plans and things to build,
going forward, we never yield.

Come sit and think within the dim
of the forsythia caves,
where the shadows chase their tails
and ever waver with the winds.

Stalagmites grow proud,
columns of might and strength,
absorb their power,
the growing stones.

Stalactites, hold on for dear life,
dangling from ceilings,
forever threatened,
of falling.

Gain understanding from,
and contemplate the determination
required to hold on,
an inspiration for life.

The drip, metronomic consistency,
bringing bits of the upper to the lower
growing, ever so slowly,
one drop at a time.

Such is life.

Forgotten melodies swirl inside my head,
the piano plays out a chorus that I don't remember,
it is hot, the fan whirrs above my bed,
but my soul is as cold as the night in December.

My heart beat drums out a line,
accompaniment, to the crashing of the psychic cymbals,
the lyrics ooze from deep inside, saying Don't Give up without a fight.

I run the streets searching for you,
screaming out your name, like only madmen do,
I am no longer free to choose,
trapped in this moment till I find you.

Shadows flicker in the wind,
as the trees dance to my mental music,
I need to find you now to mend,
as I walk the line of sanity, about to lose it.

I run the streets searching for you,
screaming out your name, like only madmen do,
I am no longer free to choose,
trapped in this moment till I find you.

There you are now down the way,
your beauty shining brighter than the street lights,
I run to you and my vision goes gray,
as my arms are trapped by this straightjacket so tight.

I run the streets searching for you,
screaming out your name, like only madmen do,
I am no longer free to choose,
trapped in this moment till I find you.

Her inner spark,
barely contained,
deep inside,
her beautiful frame.

A kiss on her lips,
feel her heat,
ignites my fire,
heart skips a beat.

With mental shears,
the ropes holding me back,
severed.

My new self,
blooms in the sun,
of a new day.

Watered by tears
of past wrongs,
converted.

Roots grow
in fertile soil,
as growth continues.

Future is mine,
going forward,
opportunities.

Shadowed darkness
laser beam of light
reveals spinning
dust motes of thought
in the corner of my mind

Locked away
usually inaccessible
but always growing
pressure building
volcanic flowing

The muse appears
with a key or a tap
sometimes a stream
other times an eruption
of words on the screen

Steaming thoughts escape
in verse and rhyme
as ashes of thoughts
coalesce into ideas
and usually just in time

Cold drops of rain as we run,
so much for our picnic in the sun,
the grass glistens green with drops,
you giggle as you fight with flip and flop.

I grab your hand and lead you on
not to the house but to the barn,
you look at me with a sneaky grin,
I know the fun will soon begin.

The stormy breeze blows on your skin,
goosebumps rise as your dress is thin,
plastered to you and clinging wet,
I try to grab it, but you say not yet.

I am pushed onto a bail of hay,
and told I have to stay that way,
she begins to spin and to dance,
a sudden need within my pants.

A hem gripped soft and slow,
her wet white dress with neon glow,
she lifts it up and to my surprise,
nothing else on her creamy thighs.

The wet dress drops to the floor,
she dances and teases, I can stand no more,
I stand up to shed my own,
she climbs the loft, I watch and moan.

Wet clothes running puddles,
I find her and begin to cuddle,
lightening flashes and thunder booms,
but we don't plan to leave this room.

Little brown dog,
curled up on a
green rectangle mat,
just snuggled in
for an afternoon nap.

The sun is bright,
but the wind is howling,
it is no day
for an afternoon outing.

So curl up, curl up,
with a cat in your lap,
lean back in your chair,
let's all take a nap.

overwhelming sweetness
cupped tongue filled
the pleasure is mine

Rocks and gravel glow,
last of the sun rays fall,
river is still, no discernible flow,
flowers, proud, stand up tall.

Flotsam and jetsam lay still,
picnic table calls to me,
my favorite place to use my quill,
this place inspires poetry.

Green grass sways in the breeze,
clouds in motion are a sight,
I hear the rustle of leaves
evening turns to night.

A huge deep breath and hold,
behind my eyes I feel pressure,
pulsating, lub dub, lub dub, lub dub,
releasing air and relaxing completely.

Thoughts now cleared,
I decide on my feelings,
choose the person I want to be today,
after all these are my decisions.

Undecided at this moment,
another inhale and hold,
released explosively,
through flapping lips, resigned.

Today, I will simply be me,
no decisions, no choice,
the real and only me,
with no filter and no apologies.

Sun creeps over the mountain tops,
deep in the holler hiding out from cops,
copper line coils and smoke rises high,
snow melt creek cools it off with a sigh.

Lightning in a bottle, infused with spice,
apple pie and peaches, make it taste nice,
swallow it down, that burning feeling,
it lifts the veils, truths start revealing.

Moonshine midnights and the stars shine,
dew drops drip from the long leaf pine,
a log fire burns long and slow,
steam hisses and pops as white lightning flows.

Quart mason jars filled up right,
don't want any spills, ***** the lid on tight,
catch every drop coming out of the still,
on the creek bank, hidden back in the hills.

Twenty dollars a pop, time to make the dash,
selling it around and making some cash,
got to be careful, or people start talking,
then got hide as cops start stalking.

Meeting buyers on back roads,
guy just bought my whole load,
says he wants more, hands me up front cash,
guess its time to go and start new mash.

Moonshine midnights and the stars shine,
dew drops drip from the long leaf pine,
a log fire burns long and slow,
steam hisses and pops as white lightning flows.

Coffee poured in my cup,
it sits there and steams,
as I go to the fridge,
and fetch a bit of cream.

Hazelnut or plain,
causes little splashes,
as I pour it in the cup,
the colors, at first clashes.

The brewing storm,
in my coffee cup,
is quick to subside,
as I stir it up.

White and black collide,
to make café au lait,
something new is born,
it happens every day.

Whipping red hair in the blowing breeze
large and deep blue eyes, ready to freeze
your heart and soul with a single glance
long tan legs that are ready to dance.

Spicy perfume her favorite scent
to buy it for her, use my last cent,
cinnamon gum, I taste on her tongue
with her kisses, I am stung.

Red tank top, white linen skirt,
outdoor dance floor, with me she flirts,
nothing underneath she makes sure I see
building my fire and fueling my need.

As she dances her fingers explore,
around her body, inside and more,
with her finger, she gives me a taste,
savor her flavor, no way I'd waste.

The music fills my ears with a beat
her whispered breath, I feel her heat
inviting me out for a midnight swim,
running out full moon reflects on her skin.

Like crashing waves, she falls into me,
lips, and limbs, we are set free,
roaming hands tease and please
legs wrap around me in a powerful squeeze.

Warm kisses, salty water, silver moon,
Slow song, in the club, hear the croon,
water droplets shimmer on her naked *******,
flashing jewels, reflected neon, I taste the rest.

Echoing among the craggy cliffs
the sounds of water cascading
over the precipice and falling
hundreds of feet into the ocean.

The flat water turns to ripples
scattering outward in rings
that may eventually
undercut the overhang into a cave.

Prarie lands cling to the top of bedrock
precious inches of soil
held in place by sweet green grass
allowing sheep and goats to feed.

I sit, feet dangling over the edge
taking in the scene
and adding to it with a mellifluous tune
I whistle along with the waters echo.

Hidden in the closet,
chained to walls,
they live in fear of me,
I am not like them.

Rattling bones in my ears,
from bridges long since burned,
jaws open, but no words emerge,
deep dark holes, stare into my being.

Fleshless fingers reach out,
into my dreams in the night,
drawing me into prison bars of ribs,
where once lived a beating heart.

From closets, and from under beds,
and even from within the walls,
the never-ending scratching,
of them trying to get out.

Some were friends, other lovers,
all now excised from my life,
I have moved on, or so I think,
haunted by the bones of the past.

Hallucinations of perfection,
reality doesn't matter,
I see what I want to see.

Simmering frustration,
trapped amongst the normalcy,
wondering and hoping,
if there is someplace better.

The here and now is not bad,
but the possibilities haunt my thoughts,
running rampant and loose,
bouncing off the inside of my skull.

What might be,
what could have been,
the ifs and whens of life,
come to me in dreams.

With hope against hope
and willingness to pursue,
perhaps destiny can be thwarted,
or perhaps, embraced.

With passions candle lit,
burning at both ends,
for something different,
to buck the status quo.

Searching, looking,
analyzing, lighting fires,
where none burned,
building to an explosion.

Of something different.

Saturday morning bus trips
through the land of antelope,
To casinos and alleys,
with a sense of hope,

With multicolored ***** unpacked,
and special shoes upon our feet,
Now has come the time
that we shall compete.

Ten pins lined up like soldiers, standing 60 feet away,
With them, it has now come time to play,
But before we start a ritual that spreads the chilling fogs
dogs, on me, dogs on three, 1-2-3, dogs.

With a swing of the arm and flick of the wrist, driving our thumb into the air,
The spinning ball heads down the lane, seemingly without care.
If we hit our mark, with timing and speed, nothing can stop it,
The roaring ball hooks, right into the pocket.

With pins spinning and bouncing nothing can still stand,
An X upon the scoreboard, just like we had planned,
And if for some reason, a pin or two is left standing there,
We will take aim and roll again, picking up a spare.

Two games down individually, but we are not done,
Time for some baker bowling fun.
7 of these for us, working as a team,
We knock down pins, like a well-oiled machine.

And at the end when we emerge we are victorious
Another tournament won isn't it glorious,
Thanks to all our coaches, and especially coach Ken,
We will miss him next year but will smile and think of him

Winter dry,
static sparks,
under heavy blankets,
flashing blue arcs.

My hand travels towards you
creeping with desire,
a trail of heat behind it
glowing hot like a fire.

I slide near you,
electricity pops and cracks,
when we touch,
like magnets attract.

Our touching lips,
could not be pried,
bodies come together
like full moons tide.

Our crashing waves
about to overflow,
strobing lights,
from frictions glow.

A laser light from button gaps,
cannot be contained within the *****,
trench coat men, try to subdue,
but they cannot contain her colorful hue.

Admiration of chisel marks,
I imagine the steel cast sparks,
a stone carved into beauty's eye,
but is it all a lie?

Colors swirl through the spectrum,
I paint with a broken thumb,
lucid dreams of LSD
I grin and laugh with glee.

The scarab beetle walked the palette,
a different hue upon each leg,
on the canvas a path traversed,
art for some, which would beg.

The swing of the hammer,
the splash of gore,
a Jackson Pollack brush
of blood on the floor.

A double helix of deceit,
a terrifying twist of treachery,
a web of lies built of sin,
a nest of hornets, but let me in.

When we first start to deceive,
the warp and weft of the weave,
starts off slowly, sparing feelings,
but lighting the fuse of pain.

Like a *** of black powder,
dropped in the cannon's barrel,
loaded with more colored lies,
white, black, purple, all result in cries.

When the explosion touches off
and both sides, now seem lost,
one cannot believe the truth came out,
the other shocked and screams and shouts.

The blankets weave is complete
no more shall you compete,
spin can not be applied,
when you have been caught in your lies.

The demons that hide in my mind,
are not really that hard to find,
they breathe fire and burn my soul,
destroy my confidence I cannot be whole.

Why must I feel this way?
Does everyone from time to time?
Self-doubt whispers getting louder,
am I possessed by demons?

Their words rip my thoughts to shreds,
creating migraines, I hide in my bed,
the inner voices, from where do they come,
I don't know but they make me numb,

Lost in my mind with no way out,
I can only scream and shout
loud obscenities, but they defy,
I want to rip them from inside.

Drink does not cure the pain,
nor does the medication,
music helps to tune them out,
but only till the next silence.

Red eyes haunt the corners,
bifurcated tails swish in the silvered mist,
fork tongues flick from the shadows,
I may need an exorcist.

Through Pink Floyd's Prism,
I hit the wall,
spattered into red, yellow
indigo, and other aspects of light.

Bent and twisted
through crystal diodes,
that power pulses
in the mind.

The beat kicks in
pounding my senses,
as I float, distant
sailing on the spectrum sea.

The bricks surround me
walling me in,
I am alone,
but I wonder
am I really?

Are others out there,
I long to ask my mother?
Perhaps they hide
in the darkness out in space.

The other side of the moon
promotes silvered questions,
that float like a balloon
into the eclipsed night.

Am I really here
flesh and blood
or am I just a thought
blowing in the solar wind.

I stand in the middle,
dead center under the roof,
yet still I am splashed by cold water,
both from the sides, and underneath.

The green lake water rises and falls,
as thunder and lightning crash and flash,
a slow moving storm, at mid day,
pushed by a slow breeze over me.

I am happy, as I lean on a boat,
hanging in a slip, gently swaying,
my spinning reel on a short rod
tipped with a chartreuse jig.

I drop it in the water to the bottom,
and reel it up one turn, and bounce it up and down,
a tug and a pull, and a fat white crappie,
with a black stripe and spots gets lifted to me.

Unhooked and in the basket, he goes,
several of his brethren already swim there,
their bite turned on by the storm,
I enjoy the sounds, sights, and fish.

Hearing the busy tone of life,
beeping beeping, giving strife,
I tried to call, but no one answered.
my hair stuck down, with sweat plastered.

The nerves rise with pins and needles,
the world is full of good and evil,
the winds of change, with hurricane-force,
have me standing on the porch.

I hold on gripping the cast iron rail,
now listening to the virus hail,
it bounces off and ricochets,
like fired from a trebuchet.

I see a crack inside the storm,
hopefully, itself destroyed and torn,
a beam of light, horizons of dream
the sun's heat begins to steam.

Life on hold, nerves now bare
like a dragon not leaving the lair,
hoarding my treasures all alone,
hoping to hear the ringing phone.

Stars, stars, stars
as I stare into the sky afar,
so many it boggles the mind,
but they're the only light I can find.

A road-worn tent, fly unzipped,
my place, since my heart was ripped,
she decided she needed to go,
so this mountain top is where I heal my woe.

6 months now, no phone no friends,
no lights, no fridge, not sure when it ends,
living on trout and cans of hash
it's cheap living, no need for cash.

Get up early, crack of dawn
start to fish, stifle a yawn,
decide I'm healed, let out a shout,
pack up and end my life's blackout.

On days the mountains are close,
others they cannot be seen at all,
I swear they ride the rails,
at our imaginations beck and call.

The snow-capped peak winks,
in the spectacular rising sun,
reflecting thoughts and dreams,
and future hopes of skiing fun.

Today my mood is dreary,
on the verge of being bleak,
the mountains are all hidden,
for even they are feeling meek.

Like the rolling tumbleweeds,
we all go on following needs,
riding opportunities wind,
never knowing where it may end.

Surf the wave to its conclusion,
never rule out, never make preclusion,
for if you limit the where to ride,
you will be stuck, never changing tide.

Ride the horse, till it falls down,
you may never win the triple crown,
but you can always ride another,
crawl out from under, never smother.

Throw the dart, and hang the map,
let her sit in your lap,
enjoy the music and the sway,
life is short, it's best to play.

Keep, chapstick and a knife,
when you find her, love your wife,
when you sleep, pray for your soul,
though life eventually consumes us whole.

the drums beat out a warning,
*** dum bah, *** dum bah
as the dancers begin to spin,
the fire swirls higher, in the growing wind.

a shout rings out from warriors throats
like a trilling banshee wail,
spears raised, and shaken in the air,
a message, nobody will be spared.

a shaman joins in,
mask just like a shield,
painted like a monster,
that sets feet, running in the field.

he casts a spell upon the fighters,
and sends them on their way,
with knives and spear points gleaming,
to make interlopers pay.

as they move from the fire,
shadows do they cast,
of jaguars, tigers and bears,
tapping ancient lives past,

silent in the darkness,
through the jungle do they stride,
moving all as one,
like lions in a pride.

circling the enemy,
they attack without a sound,
leaving nothing but bodies,
stacked upon the ground.

blades and spear points drip,
like the ****** fangs they are,
a few limp and smile about,
their future battle scars.

Delicate features
a floral perfume,
in deep thoughts
of nature's beauty.

Heavy lidded eyes
contemplate questions,
with a raised brow,
as the answers grow.

A soft breeze blows
across her garden,
as yellow butterflies ride
the swirling current.

The bright sun warms
and nourishes
her natural skin,
no makeup here.

Death stands on the edge,
ready at a moments notice,
cleaning the battlefield of injured.

My mind projected,
thoughts land on lily pads,
rising and falling,
as the waves head to shore.

Assimilating energy,
coalescing into solid matter,
the bullfrog dives in,
the lake of possibilities.

Swimming in sunken desires,
consumed by the passing bass,
combined essences now emerge,
evolving scales and aggression.

Crawling onto the sun-beaten landscape,
dried until fragile,
breaking into thousands
of tiny ants scattering.

I awaken from my nap,
at the water's edge,
on a park bench,
in a state of fugue.

Nothing gets past her,
as if a third eye watches me,
constantly monitoring,
every thought and deed,
even completing my sentences.

Uncanny.

The mosaic of our love,
made of our shattered souls,
we helped each other
pick them up from the ground.

Conversation and laughter,
understanding our pasts,
sharing our pain,
began to glue us together.

A new picture began to form,
something new and beautiful,
a work of art being sculpted,
out of our broken hearts.

No longer pieces on the ground,
our passions since repaired,
where I had a hole, she had a patch
and where she was missing, I fit.

To find love inside of hate,
and depressing heartbreak,
created a lasting work
of loving hearts.

Double battered and deep fried
into the bucket, Would you like fried pies?
Mashed potatoes and some gravy,
or french fries spiraled and wavy.
Mac n cheese ,
if you please,
oh, and can I get some sweet teas?