With my tongue, I taste,
a quiver as I measure,
a feeling of electricity,
taste buds explode.

With stinging pleasure,
venom injects,
feel the rush,
it is one to treasure.

Sticky fingers on panes of glass,
no sliding down to bust my ***,
waiting for the bugs to take flight,
will eat them all through the night.

So happy, I may sing a song,
chirp, chirp, chirp, its not to long,
with my tongue, I'll feast all night,
or at least until you turn off the light.

Sweater stretched tight,
skirt just a fit,
we look at her,
and just bite our lips.

Tight little package,
we'd love to unwrap,
but she's not our gift,
so we'll leave it at that.

Each day an adventure,
to see her wardrobe,
some days she leaves us,
about to explode.

Enhancements and tats,
leave us a drool,
we sit and imagine,
her at the pool.

We appreciate the show,
the office her runway,
and her attitude and mouth,
always makes it a fun day.

Sometimes I feel the need to write,
other times, thoughts are bound up tight.
There are moments that I need to hug,
and others I feel like cutting a rug.

The fetal position is sometimes needed
when you are gutted and soul is bleeding.
Some days require a smile brighter than the sun,
and the need to go and do something fun.

A few hours in life contain love and pain,
as you watch your love's life drain away.
Glad you are, they have no more moans,
then you realize, that you are alone.

Wedding days and lifting veils,
like you found the holy grail.
Others minutes are of pure joy,
no matter if its a girl or a boy.

Seconds, minutes, days and years,
enjoy them, be happy, have a beer,
but take the good with the bad
and realize they are the only ones you get to have.

Swirling universes stored in bottles,
the shelf sits dusty and undisturbed,
greasy smears of fingerprints,
on unidentified labels.

Shattered glass upon the floor,
where supernovas threw them,
illustrations of life and death,
contents evaporated, no trace.

I reach and pick one up,
like a snow globe, I turn it over,
the stars turn to comets, with glowing tails,
an entire existence turned upside down.

Use the words of poetry,
to find and ease the sorrow,
find a way to enjoy,
the time on earth we have borrowed.

Muzzled by pain,
yet the voice inside,
screams out streams,
if only they could be captured
and used to heal the soul.

Pheromones upon the wind,
signal me its time,
but these signals aren't for me,
and that is just a crime.

Silence in the shouting
patience in the pouting
living in the death,
hearts are all bereft.

Hopes roots sink in,
but some wither and die,
one eventually will blossom,
from the souls depths.

Deep in a creek bottom,
verdant and green pines stand still,
a gurgle, more felt than heard,
emanates from the flowing water.

Occasionally a small crack of a twig,
a footfall rustle, always from behind,
an imagined noise of the leaf,
as it flutters down from on high.

As the breeze begins
a low roar in the distance,
the trees begin to dance and sway
as it slowly closes in.

Then the chimes start,
hung in the trees by my mother,
years ago, a memory ignites,
each time they are touched by the wind.

Silver tubes flash from behind green leaves,
sunlight glints off them as they ride branches
moved by air and provide a song
for the dance.

The cylinder spins,
only one round loaded,
her finger on my trigger,
my words whispered in her ear,
can poetry save me?

CLICK

Arrowheads and Flint knapped knives,
survive the act of taking lives,
whether battle or hunting game,
into the future, they ride the rain.

From sandy hills and from creek beds,
painting pictures in our heads,
turquoise beads and pottery shards,
strewed about like fallen cards.

These tell us stories from the past,
civilizations never last,
but do we heed the lessons learned?
No, we continue unconcerned.

Building hate between our clans,
left and right divide the lands,
and in the days of future time,
someone else digs up our crimes.

The clink of ice falling in,
condensation gathers,
beading and running,
like sweat on a summer day.

From the bottle, I pour,
a steady stream of
12-year-old amber liquid,
made on an island in Scotland.

In the bottom of the quagmire
lays a pile of ancient bones,
no one ever sees them,
they are quite alone.

Once a man of vision,
who decided to hide his eyes,
so he could listen to the world,
and become more wise.

He heard the sounds of birds,
and they sounded nice,
he listened so hard,
he even heard the mice.

He heard the people's whispers
they thought that he was crazy,
others told him loudly
that he was simply lazy.

To blindfold one's self
and sit and hear all day
and to shun his work
when there are bills to pay.

Well perhaps they were right
so he left the house for a stroll,
but left the blind in place
with his life, he paid the toll.

On his first journey,
off listening his way,
into the quagmire he walked
and stays there still today.

Twinkling lights mirrored in blue eyes,
a group of carolers in the distance,
set a festive mood.

Hand in hand strolling,
the neighborhood lights entertain,
a few snowflakes fall.

Our lips meet,
tasting of hot chocolate and eggnog,
our heat defies the cold night.

Like a gift unwrapped,
love is given,
on Christmas Eve.

Upon the field, that runs with blood,
we stand united, against the flood,
kite shields locked into a wall,
can we stand against them all?

Gorgons stare with pupils stone,
but they do not want to be alone,
but alas their fated curse,
to live without love, what could be worse?

Trapped inside the conscious stream,
stuck within the waking dream,
watching people slowly die,
did most even bother to try?

It was the age when water flowed,
cities grew, electricity glowed,
populations soared, like birds with wings,
wondering what the future could bring?

The ever present sweep of hands
in the great numbered circle,
slowly counting us down,
to the infinity of eternity.

The pendulum swings,
time passes by the second,
never to be returned,
some used, others thrown away.

Tick, tick, tick,
we hear it first,
then we begin to feel it,
then we begin to see it.

The iron grip
of the clock,
its hands turned to fingers
gripping and squeezing our youth.

Parted clouds reveal,
blue skies,
and fading sunlight,
night begins anew.

Kneel and pray
to gods nature,
a renewal, like spring
healing slowly.

Tears come fast and free,
enough to fill the sea,
hidden here behind,
the willow curtain clears my mind.

When life is hard to bear,
no one seems to care,
I hike into the trees,
a place emotions free.

The plants all understand,
as my tears water the land,
they are refreshed and so am I,
and I go on with this life of mine.

silver falling leaves
moonlight kisses the dew drops
the owl ***** its wings

Struggling in the darkness,
I crawl around the room,
a wall followed to a corner,
and trailed till fabric is felt.

Curtains were thrown open,
yet still encased in blackness,
I sink to the ground, defeated,
my hands closed on a rectangle.

In the darkness, a lighter found,
I light the blinds on fire, illumination comes in
as the house burns down,
and the sun sinks below the horizon.

Sitting amongst bits of glowing ember,
matching the stars sparkling in the sky,
I longed for light of the sun,
and it too was extinguished with tears.

Crawling out of the sheets,
from where our fires did meet,
I am burned and sore in places
that still pleasantly tingle traces.

Our flames, burning orange
a low glimmering sight,
but given lust for fuel,
combustion to blue in the night.

Sparking friction,
crackling addiction,
conflagrations consume
but ours regularly resumes.

Our need to feed
on each other can,
never ever be met,
so we take what we can get.

In the moonlight glow,
I see her painted toes,
as we lay on the beach,
her body is in my reach.

Grains of sand
grind between our hands,
with such force,
a new diamonds source.

From within my pocket, I draw a ring,
I lean over to her, as my heart sings,
slip the ring on her finger,
give her a kiss, that starts to linger.

The stars reflect in her eyes,
as she reacts to the surprise,
she rolls over on top of me
her smiling beauty is all I see.

With mumbled yes's into my lips
and roaming hands and grinding hips
engagement beach, the sky shines bright
I hold on to her with all my might.

The sun shines upon her face,
and she absorbs its cosmic power,
nourished, for now,
until night comes.

Dancing and spinning in Luna's rays,
as joy and passion grow,
the darkness allows
my feelings to show.

We sit by the fire to soothe aching bones,
whispered neck kisses and pleasurable moans,
the day is improving as is my desire,
the fire and I against you, conspire.

The chorus of limbs
climb to heaven's gates,
our quintessence clamors for entry
to everlasting euphoria.

The story we continue to write,
ink falls on and stains the page
through every experience
and decisions made.

Hand in hand with another,
laughter and smiling faces,
seen across the restaurant,
as the stitch in my heart unlaces.

The full moon had shone overhead
but crimson clouds now blow,
the knife blade cuts deep,
from white to red goes the snow.

Acid rain eats through protective layers,
exposing raw red nerves of the past,
old memories now reopened,
new blood from old wounds sprays fast.

Simmering sadness in the pressure cooker,
now boils over with burning tears,
that had been sealed and covered,
entombed safely for years.

I slip out the side door
hopefully unseen,
my night turned to nightmare,
tonight, memories haunt my dreams.

Delivery that needs to be made
I search for the lone owner
Either the recipient or the sender
This envelope feels important

Heavy in my hand as I look
but neither address is current
the tracks of tears sealing
encourage me to continue looking

As I feel someone's heart to be breaking
miscommunication on well-placed stamps
hiding love and fortune
from its rightful owners

Hidden meanings,
trapped in memories,
released by,
the piercing whine.

The rumbling tracks,
once punctuated by an
exclamation point of smoke,
now nothing.

An escape,
I jump on,
as it trundles by
to someplace.

Empty boxcar,
I hide in the shadows,
curled up in the corner,
waiting for where it stops.

Dueling desks sitting inside,
gates of heaven where they reside.
Dealing with the tides that flow,
and with dim bulbs, with no glow.

Guarding the gods from lesser beings,
dropping shade, most miss the meaning.
One brunette, and one, who knows!
either way, they run the show.

Each a beauty with cutting wit,
they can see through your ****.
and if you think that you are smart,
just wait for the, bless your heart!

Or something better spouted in greek,
I simply love their tongue in cheek.
A bit of crazy in their veins,
not afraid to cause you pain.

If you know how to be,
they are a lot of fun you'll see,
telling jokes, till you cross the line,
but come back later, you'll be fine.

In the end, this duo's supreme,
they float to the top just like cream.
Their laughter is music made,
and silky smooth, like fine suede.

Golden lightning strikes
orange flames bloom like flowers
ancient man harvests

The living electricity flares,
reaching down from gray skies,
out of swirling clouds,
with its enigmatic claw.

It's mighty roar following each attack,
hearts stop, fires start, at its impact.
the world, engulfed in black storm shadows,
is revealed for a moment in a flash of release.

A moment in time,
burned into retinas,
as rain begins to fall,
and the wind whips.

Once more the golden fingers grab at earth,
a rumbling scream follows,
the storm drags itself across the landscape,
leaving glass fingernails embedded in the earth.

Flinging words onto the page,
with automatic fire,
aiming at the masses,
it's them I must inspire.

Imagined faces in water vapor,
changing rapidly to rabbits,
whites and blues and grays.

Brush stroke winds,
paint the creations,
floating overhead.

Green fronds surround,
I lay in the breeze,
and watch the evolving art.

Dangling above the world
I see dim movement from below,
a pendulum in the breeze
as I begin an intricate pattern.

Weaving back and forth
in outward motions
an angled filled octagon
begins to take shape.

Watching, more like feeling,
every movement, vibration,
comes to me in laser like
flashes, in reds and blues and greens.

Traveling down silken wires,
where I lurk and wait
manning my security panel
watching for a meal and danger.

An alarm flashes red on my panel,
I feel it coming from above me,
I slink into action
to see what my trap has caught.

A fat green grasshopper struggles
it's wings and legs thrashing as I approach
a quick bite and injected venom
slows the agitation, as I begin to wrap it.

Blue laser lights travel to me
from another quadrant,
I rush to find a lime green Luna moth
it's chartreuse eye spots staring in fear.

A bite and another,
white wrapped package,
left for me to enjoy
at my leisure.

Rusted red wagon bed
could never hold my pain,
now matter how many times
I loaded it up.

I towed it around
but it seeped out,
slow and steady,
out of its rusted holes.

Dripping to the ground
in small drops,
oozing back together,
reforming and crawling.

Heading back to my feet,
up my legs,
up my neck,
and in my ear.

Burrowing back into my soul,
which is its home,
and where it belongs,
as it is a part of me.

Upon the moving of our friends,
it felt like this era should never end,
the hanging out and stupid jokes,
the various liquors mixed with coke.

The road trips with music up loud,
picking out creatures in the clouds
weekday dinners for no reason
hunting together in deer season.

Guys and girls trips full of fun,
sunday's with kids and lots of guns,
building things projects galore,
who could ask for any more?

Then it all came to an end,
will our hearts ever mend,
miles and states now stretch between,
if only we had a teleport machine.

The golden rays of the sun,
shine on the red fox
as she traverses the trodden dirt path
among the tall pine trees and disappears.

The smell of earth and leaf mold,
and the occasional sweet bloom
rise from the forest floor
in the summertime's heat.

A long dead tree stump
makes a great watchtower,
elevated and out of the dampness,
to survey the muddy creek bottom.

Below, a bobcat slinks in the shadows
down to the flowing creek,
rapid fire pink tongue
draws it in, to satiate thirst.

Suddenly ears ***** high,
and the cat flattens out,
a high pitched squeak
and motion in the pine straw.

The mouse emerges from its tunnel
on the other side of the creek,
a leaping bobcat is its last sight,
as it is carried away into the woods.

Sweat running,
grass coated,
as the last whirr winds down,
the smell of gas and oil.

The **** eater is still now,
everything trimmed,
the wife on the lawn tractor,
knocking down the rest.

The smell of oil and gas,
newly mown grass,
and the hum and whine,
of equipment makes for a clean yard.

Do you ever wonder
if the ones you love
really know how much?

Are the hugs and kisses
and the words I love you
really enough?

The cards the gifts
and the trips
does it really show?

Is there an answer to this?
Is there any way to know?
Perhaps a bit of faith!

A little bit of hope,
that they always know,
how much love you have.

Give me a beach, on a jungle shore,
while it might take some work, it won't be a chore,
fishing for dinner, and gathering fruit,
building thatched huts with palm fronds for roofs.

Let me dig clams or mussels, or catch rays,
barter them with neighbors, a good catch really pays,
swap them for milk, a goat, or some meat from wild boar,
although we have no stuff, were not close to poor.

The crashing waves sing a rhythmic lullaby,
as I hang in my hammock and close my eyes,
my crab trap is baited to catch overnight,
it will be full, in the dawns early light.

So give me a beach, with white sand and surf,
I have no need of a house and manicured turf,
The salt spray and sun are good for my bones,
I'll be happy to sit on my sugar cane throne.

Reasons are needed,
to help explain reality,
but the truth is random
and chaos rules.

Wooden phalanges scratch,
skeletal sounds upon glass,
bark, the color of dried blood,
flaking and falling to the ground.

Distorted gold green moonlight shines,
through warped and broken windows,
creating an unearthly crawling pool,
slowly oozing across splintered boards.

A howling wolf wind raises hairs,
pure dread, as it batters never-ending,
threatening to knock down rotted walls
and beats through barely locked doors.

With a final lunge, the door collapses,
a cloud of dust browns out the night,
cloaked and fast, a faceless body dashes in
a scarecrow lands next to me, as I scream.

An ear-splitting peal of thunder,
follows a lightning strike
the smell of ozone
as the storm passes.

Office trapped all day,
longing for the outdoors,
clouds against the blue sky,
evening breeze to be felt.

Words, thoughts captured and imprisoned,
poured onto paper and screens,
a piece of my soul, no longer free,
but that is okay, as it grows more,
when other people read them,
and their thoughts, start to pour.

Minerally tang
quenches my need,
my fangs retract
and my need to feed.

Luna smiles upon the earth,
tides rise, as do emotions
and lips meet in the shadows.

In the closet,
under the bed,
down the well,
in a shallow grave.

Concrete and sunk,
to the bottom of the lake,
wood chippered and spread,
locked away in storage.

Fed to alligators,
or to sharks,
burned and ashes scattered,
hidden in safety deposit box.

Or coded in verse,
and placed in plain sight,
on some website,
that you live anonymously.

Whitetail deer graze
as cottonwood blooms float,
like fairies on the breeze.

A distant rumble felt,
triggering turkey gobbles,
from the near woods.

A piercing noise shatters the silence,
slowly growing louder,
heads raise and look toward the tracks.

Sprinting toward cover,
the field now empty,
as the sound fades.

With singed wings, I soar,
looking for a place to land,
to soothe my burns and heal,
to be ready, once again, to face the fire.

Cold blades wielded
in hands just as cool,
the frigid heart beats.

The lonely moon traverses
the cold and lonely space
waiting to be touched
yet again by the sun.

Back in the swamp,
deep in the woods,
take me to memories,
long gone by.

Wading the edges,
the river water flows,
tadpoles and moccasins,
swim on by.

Bullfrogs and dragonflies
battle in the evening,
underneath the rope
of an old tire swing.

Well cities have gotten to me,
fast paced lies and artificial people,
need to rest and rest my mind,
the river will do it every time.

Old cane pole and a night crawler,
a fifth of Jack and a Coleman lantern,
a basket full of catfish, swirling,
take me home to Green River.

Winking skies,
artificial fireflies,
amazing colors flash,
my heart begins to dash.

Crimson, copper,
cadmium green,
explosions in the night,
in the sky and between us.

Carbonated bubbles of passion,
fizz and float around and inside us,
let's shake the bottle,
once again.

Ahab's horror would I be,
swimming around for all to see,
harpoon me if you can,
but I'll swallow you down, ship and man.

to the locker far below,
where I will spit out your bones,
in the darkness of the deep,
for all eternity will you sleep.

Though not a fish,
I will have fulfilled my wish,
to swim in the ocean's tides with tail,
I am glad to have become a whale.

Searching for home,
places for the lost heart,
a key searching for a lock,
an arrow for its target.

To scatter one's, soul,
across the universe,
shotgun pellet style,
maybe effective.

But when and if,
the target is hit,
to gather one's self,
takes eons.

Flavors and layers,
all hidden inside,
shadowed by a mask
of fear or pride.

To truly find out,
trust must be gained,
sometimes the beginnings,
are nothing but strain.

Small punctures made,
by teeth and by fingers,
the first pleasurable taste,
a memory to linger.

As peelings and wrappings,
are removed over time,
flesh and nectars revealed,
tongues tingle in the sublime.

No more secrets hidden,
seeds and core exposed
fingers and face drip divine,
identifiable smile, everyone knows.