You have real joy deep in your heart,
love spills from your fingertips,
everything that has ever,
ever surrounded you
is a marvel
in one way or another
they,
they will find a while to rob you of such happiness.
They will kiss you
with their deadly lips
& **** the life right out of you,
because they,
they never had a life
of their own
& for that you will
pay penance
for the rest of your days,
for the sickness
of their missing hearts,
black as night.

There's a great owl
outside
my closed window,
hooting
to the rhythm
of air conditioners
kicking on and off.
It's melody seems askewed,
as if it's toxicated
on the technology
of finely tuned thermostats,
seemingly
out of whack.
And when I think
about those places without
controlled climates,
I wonder if the songbirds there
sound better than a drunken
bird of prey here.

It revolves around a certain spirit,
bands striking chords,
chords deep in our young hearts,
the beautiful artists of rock
and we rolled with them,
kissing our sweet lovers,
they come and they go
& we are saddened when
they swing back around,
trying to rewrite history
with another album of song,
& it no longer works for us
or for them,
something's amiss,
all wrong.

Cool black streams & mossy oaks
soothe the weary traveler.
But there is really no way
to fully describe in words
the true spirit
of La Florida outdoors.
Let's just say
it gets lost
in the bottomlands,
these endless swamps filled with gators
& ibises as far as the eye can see.
A shooting star
on the tip of the Everglades
spells magic
& with every croak of the bullfrog,
you lose yourself a little bit more,
from the unreality of living
away from this paradise.

We came in at one end of the valley,
tired from our journey
to find respite.
So we sat for awhile,
visited the men seated in the yurt,
shared hot spiced-tea & flatbread,
not a single word was spoken,
we traded smiles & warm gestures,
then left at the other end of the valley,
as quickly as we had dropped by.

I never liked full auto
for supression.
For me,
it was three round bursts,
fired quickly.

I'm almost near the end,
been serving my time,
diligently,
religiously
on this cell block
for nearly four years.
Writing by candlelight
& with the sun,
been some good days,
happy,
sad,
even some bad ones.
Soon,
I'll be released.
I can feel it,
the morning rain.

There's too much oxygen down here,
people can't think straight,
fumbling over their brilliance.
I like it better higher,
where people don't talk much,
because they're too busy breathing
& killing brain cells.

Some of them burnt crosses,
pushed atom buttons
& gave them gas showers.

And there's nowhere to run,
when they got you by the *****,
cooking in the fire.

The trick is to pack punch.

All night long
we stared,
watched them criss-cross
across the frozen sky,
in between the stars.
And we thought,
wondered to ourselves,
in the greater scheme,
where are we really going?
Nowhere
or to higher places
other than the north face
of this glaciated sacred-monolith.

I got lost in her tattoos.
Do you see me there,
lying
right next to the vicious tiger,
just down from the crescent moon,
around the corner from her butterfly.
And if you can't read her runes,
that's alright,
she's an inked Gemini,
born in June,
full of fire,
not a liar.

The intellectuals can explain everything,
they have all the answers,
smart ***** in their own right,
they might last about sixty-seconds
in a real firefight.
Well maybe the intellectuals
should go to war.
After all, those are braniacs who invented
all those advanced killing machines,
the weapons of mass destruction.
Just imagine,
just imagine
how dumb
the world would be
without them.
It would be paradise.

When you engage
in close quarters combat,
it ain't pretty,
it ain't nothing like Hollywood.
The blood looks more real,
the screams sound more anguished,
the smoke smells diesel.
Things move rapidly
in slow motion,
hand signals lead the way.
If you have to use your bayonet,
it ain't like slicing up a watermelon,
there's real bone in there.
And if you waste a second
staring into their lifeless eyes,
the haunting memory
will last you a lifetime.

Things don't seem the same
when you're down
on your weakened-knees
sobbing,
crying in pain,
& wondering
why him,
why our father?

O this timeless question,
the agony of your precious loss
& who has the answer,
the unsolved mystery
of the entire universe.

But you will rise,
you will rise again
to face the sun,
to taste the air
& to kiss the stars,
for he is in them now
& those thoughts alone
will comfort you,
even with your broken heart,
a piece always missing.

The precious sun's
setting west,
my hat's off,
'till we meet again,
blest.

It has to start somewhere,
steel never tasted so good,
empty bottle,
monoxide never smelled so sweet,
won't be a letter,
there's nobody's to blame,
end here.

I was diseased
before I was spawned,
this affliction
called love,
was it sent from above
or way down below?

Who knows,
was I conceived
in a drunken stupor,
during a drug-induced
beach escapade,
in the afterlude of
a romantic dinner?

The fact is,
my Mommy spoke,
I'm a sinner,
like the rest of us,
the church lied.
How high do I have to jump?
I broke through the placenta,
magenta & blue,
like my Daddy.

They have all the killing toys,
those mighty oaks,
not as smart as they think they are,
we have masses,
lots of us,
carrying tiny axes,
ready to collect firewood.

I want to put my fingers
in your soil,
sift until you're ready
to be planted
deeply &
I will lift you up,
drop my precious seed,
rooted into your sweet furrows.

He had worked the city for a long time,
a little over a decade.
would surface
one or twice a year
to leave his handiwork behind,
then he'd disappear like a ghost.
Once he was gone for two full years,
many thought he had passed,
was incarcerated or just moved on
to another playground.
He had always been careful,
careful not to leave any clues.
And who knew it would be him,
he was so unassuming,
went about his business quietly,
efficiently
& was always so reasonable.
But he had gotten sloppy,
had left a matching screwdriver
in her eye.
The only person who cried was his wife,
who had slept next to him for years.
Lucky woman.

I'm so infatuated with the girl next door.
She's drop dead gorgeous,
has marble skin & jet-black hair,
her jade eyes mesmerize,
tasty feminine thighs.

Still I have to admit,
her habits are a bit strange.
She only comes out at night,
has an aversion to wearing crosses
& avoids the days like the plague.
One striking thing about her
that does stick out
are her teeth.
She has the nicest set of fangs,
said me she wants to **** me.
I told I was her for the taking.
But it's weird,
since that discussion,
she's been keeping her distance.
I really thought
she totally wanted me,
guess I was wrong.
The other day,
I heard through the grapevine
that she didn't
want to infect me,
make me her prisoner
for all eternity,
she said it wasn't fair.

In fact, she's still ******
at the dude who kissed her
with that cursed disease.

I followed a path of stars to get to you,
their sacred light guided me
along the way
& I prayed
I would make it,
because
it wasn't easy.

I was a bully one time.
But I gave it up,
I didn't like how it made me feel.
I figured you can't hide in low self-esteem.
And besides, dealing family history
has never been my thing,

We lived,
we breathed our childhood
like runaway trains,
hid our pains in frivolous antics,
created fantastic fantasy worlds.

Some of us were kings
others queens,
still others princes & princesses.
And we did not know excess,
pushing the limits of our existence,
insisting we were real
humans with real feelings,
only trampled on
by those we loved,
the ones we trusted the most.

And now
writing,
we are haunted by those ghosts
who ****** us.

I want some of your candy.
Let me **** on your mint,
twirl you around in my mouth a bit,
inhale your invigorating flavor
& swallow your swill.
Give it to me girl.

Glued to sticky sheets,
I lay here terrified,
covered in a thick sheen of sweat
& trembling at the very thought
of stepping down.

I wear a huge frown
with my eyes clenched tight,
fighting the urge to laugh
maniacally or even giggle.
Because there's not a **** thing
funny about this serious dilemma.
I am not in the least bit curious
to get up and move either,
not gonna wiggle a single toe.

Oh yeah, you're a brave one alright.
What do you know about their behavior?
Are you my savior?
I'm not taking any chances...
You'd lie here too
if you had
a killer clown
under your bed.

I kayaked the ******
& got lost in the sea mist,
found myself
surrounded by six
paddling leprechauns.
They have the best whiskey there.

It's the kind of fragrance
that brings men to their knees,
makes dreams come true,
raw,
primal,
the very essence of life itself.
You know it
when you smell.
It's an exlixir,
titillating,
better than the finest wines,
genuine intoxication.
I smelled it when I walked by
her,
sitting there,
the epitome of feminine beauty,
wetter than the Khasi Hills.
I could tell by the look in her eyes,
& the curl on her lip
as she sipped,
stirred her swizzle stick,
licking its tip.

In a sea of ghosts,
I sat unknown
on the Flushing Local
over to 42nd Street.
And as I stared
through smudged glass,
at landscapes of grafitti,
I realized I was dead.

Where will you be when anarchy comes
& what state of mind will rule you
when the racists hit the streets,
smashing heads,
robbing the blind,
destroying public property,
molotoving the neighborhoods,
privatizing their selfish notions.
Make no mistakes,
without a doubt,
people will become canibals,
eating each other
for their daily meal.
It will become the real deal,
blood spilling,
painting the planet
with dead innocence.
Where will you be,
when the **** really goes down,
it won't be television.
Are you gonna drown
or stay afloat?
Just remember,
there are evil forces
working behind the scenes,
so get rid of your barcode.
It's better to be the hunter,
not the hunted,
arm now.
Word up.
Rally.

Gentle waters
lapped methodically
along the shore,
swirling wisps
hypnotized
as ancient drums
rippled my spine.

I heard the crickets
rub their sacred-legs
between the papyrus
& saw the crescent smile
in its dark glory,
protecting the land
of the pharoahs.

Covered with moon dust
& packed ***** to nut sacks
at over a hundred degees,
we heard the beam riders over head
& the **** of mortar fire.

Perspiring into lakes,
we crossed our fingers,
trying hard to fake comfort,
smelling like sardines.
The memories still linger.

In a song,
they sang
you can't buy love.
I think they're wrong.
It might be a different kind of love,
this exchange,
but love
never-the-less.

O Baby Doll,
ooze
your richness,
your tender self
on me,
spread your
delicious wealth,
call me
your
Sweet Honey.

Don't put all your coins in one basket,
they'll break you.

My cell battery's dying
& the connection is slow.
I'll be lost for awhile without you,
recharging.
Au revoir.....
lover.

Theodore said it about right
& now,
the opposite is true.
You got me there.
Squeeze.
Squeeze.
Rock me baby.
Get higher.
Come on up.
Squeeze harder.
Get tighter.
Make me fight.
Let me love you
the way you should be
loved.
Ready....

Right there doll,
hold that position,
wait one minute.
Ohhhhh that's right.
Maybe two.
Let me get the lighting
on your precious skin
just right.
Fight it.
Strike it.
I want to shoot you
deep in that pose.
curl your toes.

Often
steamy inspiration
just hits me
& I write stanzas,
sensual verses in spurts.
Waves of emotion
come over me
&
I shoot,
shoot out
short
quick  
fiery
hot
dittys
about you.
Come on,
read up!

She struts serpentine,
moves seductively,
floating across the room
with nothing on
but white flowered-lace.

O Sweet Jesus,
she knows her reward!

So why,
why oh why,
does she torture me
this way?
Why.

Oh yes you crazy lady,
there's a devil inside of me.
Unleash it with your
mad ways.
I'll play your silly
insane love game.

You have more than love
written all over
your glistening
pretty-face.
My name in cursive
looks quite nice,
ohhhhh.

Like what the **** were you doing,
playing around like that?
That auto-erotica
is some serious business.
You wanted choking
to come
& now you hang there
lifeless.
Was dying worth it trying?

I hear them everywhere,
lone dogs
howling,
barking,
echoing
in the empty streets.
Listen.

O Miss Ocean,
make me your own.
I want to drown
in you flood.

O let me live,
be a slave
to your
sweet sins.

The only noise
breaking this lonely-silence,
is my quickened breathing,
the rustling of my smooth sheets
as I build to a crescendo,
thinking,
dreaming of you
amongst,
you amongst the stars
I am kissing,
as I release
my velvet love.

Awakened by your flood,
I am burning up,
breathless,
so warm to the touch.

Over and over,
you came to me
in my dreams
last night.
I did not fight you,
you made me your own.
Visions of your
serpentine-body
gripped my attention,
it was a beautiful haunting,
you & me,
so wanton.

O sweet spirit,
please,
I am alone
basking,
please,
come again,
please.

We have a possessed person at work.
She talks incoherently
& spins around in her chair
like a crazy girl.
Forever using the Lord's name in vain,
once I saw her floating to the restroom,
and it wasn't on a broom.
Flies seem to hang around her desk,
her breath sometimes smells like *****
and she has an aversion to crosses.
When you put all those facts together,
there's no way you can deny
the devil's inside her.

Pink marmalade
smeared all over my face,
traces of pistachio ice cream
on my lips,
chocolate icing on my fingers
& Tupelo honey on my toes.
Are there any dreamers
still around,
thinking of leftovers,
sweet tasty leftovers.

You see,
it doesn't matter to me,
I still want to lick the juice
off your sour lips,
**** it out of your mouth.