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.

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.

Crosshairs weave figure eights,
moving across the three-inch steel chicken,
my finger caresses the trigger tighter on each pass,
slow and steady, dead center, as the round fires,
the satisfying plink of steel as the target falls,
and I slide over to the next one in the row.

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.

With painful stares,
I look at you,
burning into my eyes,
the pain hurts,
but the vision is a pleasure.

Such raw beauty,
sculpted into perfection,
each curve and line,
stellar topography,
in which to get lost.

Pooled silver shines in the light
from the candle on the window,
a jingle on the way to the pocket,
and a smile, with the promise of dinner.

Seated, and warm coffee against the night
the cold winds blow, snow runs with it,
a chunk of crusty bread and butter,
sits beside the steaming bowl of stew.

Hopefully, the calories and warmth garnered,
will be just enough to make it through
the frozen night, wrapped in newspapers,
cash register rings he tries to pay.

But her warm smile and forgiving nature
does not let her take his silver,
she shakes her head and says,
use it for a warm breakfast.

A nod of thanks as he leaves,
stepping into the moonlight,
a Cheshire cat grin shines
the glint from the coins warms him.

I sit and stare,
pencil sharp,
yet no words appear on the page,

A blankness of paper and mind.
I count the pixels,
on the plain white screen,
they mock me,
I want to fill them,
but can think of nothing.

In the labyrinth of my mind,
and in the folds of gray matter,
words and thoughts hide,
a game of hide and seek,
my muse plays with me.

There was nothing,
but there was something,
in the nothing,
I could just see it,
out of the corner of my eye,
but not clear enough to read it.

Where once words frolicked,
on a great open plain,
forming verse with the wind,
changing as predators chased.

Now a blank desert,
where have the words gone,
hidden, sleeping, lost,
in the jungle,
at the edges of thought?

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.

Let's go, I'll meet you there,
bikini girls, stop and stare,
Cuba Libre on the beach,
all within a days reach.

Crystal clear liquid in a mason jar,
lifted into the night skies,
the full moon's light is blurred,
as the two moonshine's mix.

My vision is transformed
from the mundane, everyday
to the extraordinary,
as a drop hits my lips.

The third eye is opened,
spirits and colors reveal
themselves in the corners,
and in the periphery.

They try to hide,
but they are spotlighted,
like the lead singer on a stage,
by the moonshine's glow.

Pheromones and thoughts entwined,
two souls slowly try to combine,
one plus one, you do the math,
and travel down life's loving path.

tuille and silk wrap 'round
a day of celebration
a night of pleasure

Inspirations are contagious,
a quickly moving infection
of poet's minds,
and passed on through contact
with words and verse.

A pile of brush,
ready to burn,
as evening falls,
and whippoorwills call.

A single match and glowing,
hands creep in shadows,
as grins form,
in the flickering light.

Blankets on the ground,
the stars and moon overhead,
clothes in a pile,
all have been shed.

The fire's warmth on bare skin,
caresses goosebumps,
formed by a traveling tongue
and whispered hums.

Dancing naked to music,
no one can hear,
fueled by lust,
and the case of beer.

The crickets and the night hawk,
silenced by the moans,
as I worship my queen,
as she lays on her throne.

Her honey drips from her ***,
I lap it up greedily,
her sweetness invigorates me,
and readies me for what is to come.

Whipped into a frenzy,
she looks at me with desire,
my flag waves in the breeze,
as I surrender entirely.

Burned I am from her heat,
raging hotter than the fire,
arcing blue sparks,
from our desire.

I slide into her oven,
where I start to bake,
with her instruction,
I frost her cake.

Destined to die,
erased from all of history
unless you dig DNA deep
and under yards of soil.

I am but a fossil,
a piece of mitochondria,
imbuing few traits,
but allowing for future generations.

I am no-one and nowhere,
yet I cross borders,
and reach through the threads,
of history and of time.

Dust brushed off an artifact,
a skull, a jaw, phalanges,
bone or flint knife,
a piece of ancient pottery.

My fingerprints are everywhere,
yet invisible to most,
continuing to live under the surface,
but extinct for millennia.

The cats eye shell sees into the sea,
a million granules of sparkling sand,
toss and tumble in the waves and spume,
forever marooned on this stretch of beach.

That which the eye sees,
is beautifully monotonous,
occasionally interrupted,
by a bubbles rainbow sheen.

The trout green ocean touches
the aquamarine blue sky,
that reaches down and touches
the brown's and blacks of the coast.

Once filled with life,
the shell is now empty,
deposited here with the tides
and left to stare into oblivion.

Your soul is my binding,
your skin is my pages,
our love is a book,
that I long to pen.

My thoughts transmitted,
traced by my fingertips
in a trail of goosebumps,
that I rub in with my palm.

My intentions overflow,
spilled from their container,
with my feathered quill,
I start another chapter.

Page after page,
thought after thought,
kissed into your skin,
till the plot becomes apparent.

As the pages get short,
rereading is necessary,
more loving ink pours
until at last the covers close.

But, the series continues.

The suns rays beat down
exposed skin turns to a bronze
a bead of sweat drips.

Delicate curves show
foaming waves crash down loudly
on the beach display.

Hot golden sands glint
accented by bikinis
an array of shades.

Kites fly on shore breeze
umbrellas and tents throw shade
bags are tossed at holes.

Cooler lids creak open
cold drinks are passed around
sweating in the sun.

Damage adds character,
distress showed in lines,
her face glowed with wisdom,
and her beauty radiated from confidence
in overcoming pain through years.

To be trapped so young
suffocating, no air
slowly being destroyed
by one's own choices and breaths.

The clear liquid burns inside
destroying all control
opening her up to
pleasure and pain.

Regrets rise to the top,
as she tries to drown them,
the still drips into the jar,
liquid pain killer.

Trapped in the cycle,
the pain, the drain,
the numbness
the strain.

She slowly destroys her life,
and her liver, with each sip,
bad choice and she cannot stop
opening the jar.

White lines and yellow stripes
lit by high beam headlights,
continually run away,
into the deepening blackness.

Straight ahead is a void,
devoid of light and stars,
we are drawn that way,
by the path of least resistance.

To the left and the right,
the sky is energized,
pitchforks and talons,
grab and stab at the earth.

Bass drum beats follow
each blinding swipe,
but we just keep rolling forward,
headlong into the night.

Our destination sings out,
using the scan button on the radio,
beckoning us onward, with country and rock,
and we follow despite the building storm.

Down darkened paths with flowing creeks,
you never know who you may meet,
scary things from nursery rhymes,
sensual creatures, search good times.

Things with teeth and tusks and spears,
that stand your hair, and drive your fear,
or lacy winged miniature women,
creating thoughts that are forbidden.

Naked goddesses from Greece or Rome,
that want a seat upon your throne,
or their fathers or their brothers
that if they catch you, will be your ******.

Children from the Neverland
that simply need a helping hand,
creatures of fire that feed on coal,
or evil beings that need your soul.

Do not get lost in these hinterlands,
as you may be unable to meet demands,
stay on the path, straight and narrow.
and always bring your bow and arrow.