Faces covered with mud,
dripping with sweat,
coated in
blood stained
brain splatter.
Unsmiling
with invisible tears,
fear spoken
in their bloodshot eyes,
wide as saucers.

The sweet fragrance of java
wafts gloriously
through my kitchen.
O wondrous Joe!
You are indeed,
a tasty hot elixir,
some sprinkled
with cream
and sugar,
sent to us
from
the gods
of the bean.

It was a time of innovation,
a period of fresh discovery
for us infantrymen.
Close quarter combat
was never fought like that,
M4's, NVG's and IPods,
with lot's of grenades.
Technological
advancements
so explosive,
beyond any
of our wildest dreams.
And yet,
and yet,
the deliveries
were still the same,
hand-to-hand,
we fought,
pulling pins,
listening
to the sound
of automatic bullets
whizzing overhead
& Ozzie,
some Metallica,
all season long.
Some things never change,
like war and death.

On windswept shores
I stand,
born before the universe,
I am the salt,
I existed
here before time.
I taste your breath
in the wind,
I feel your heart
quiver
in my *****,
and my tears
flow
for you,
only for you
my love.

"There's no such thing as a witch,"
Martha told me smiling
trying hard to hold the corners
of her lips from turning up
and holding her hand
over her pentagram
silver-necklace.
She dropped
a chicken foot
right next
to a circle of
six smoldering candles
& a burnt tarot card.
I knew then
it was time for me
to leave her premise.
I scooted across her yard
& locked the gate
behind me
feeling strange,
as if I were lying,
placed
under a spell.

Jesus,
what thick
gorgeous
long hair you have,
you're beautiful.
Oh your crystalline-eyes,
what heart stopper thighs,
I crave your tender *******!
Sweet full lips
like tender roses,
I can taste,
you can kiss me
forever,
like no tomorrow,
always darling.

Many a noggin
had been saved
by wearing
layers
of woven
carbon fiber.
"Put your helmet on son,"
he was told,
but he didn't listen.
His nickname
was Silly Rabbit.
Go figure.
Peaking from his hole,
he lost the whole top of his head
when a single round
grazed it.

I was told
words
are the windows
to souls.
Well
if that's true,
then what
are these eyes
revealing?
Why is there a space
of white
below
my irises?
Please
tell me.
Why are they jet black,
like coal?
And is that a comet...

Don't forget me.
I am in flight,
floating on the wind.
Maybe you can hear me.

A soldier thinks
about a lot of pretty things
frozen
at night
in a desert foxhole
watching
falling stars,
counting
the ticking seconds
on fire
with your sweet vision,
imagining your angel-face,
placing himself
in a warm place.

You never make it easy on me
dear lady,
always smiling at me,
licking your lips at me
leaned up against the wall,
pointing your derriere at me,
you push aside
your expensive French lace,
begging me
to leave
a trace of me,
never pensive
for me.

There is no way to describe
the part
of the initial disappearance
other than to say
it's breathless
watching my reemergence,
glistening with you like that,
repeated
again
&
again
& again
& again
to fruition,
the exploding of our raw senses.

I dream about you darling
and the way you wore
your fitted jeans,
how your lingerie
felt so pure
against my shadow
tasting you
through the lace,
eyes serenely shut.
But it is your pretty face
I think about the most.
I miss
how lit up
it would get
from
a simple kiss.

I can feel it
& cry heartbroken
on the same bathroom floor
wondering what went wrong,
how could she
be like that,
after the love
I poured into her,
she wanted,
she took
from me.

The first time you pull the pin
and toss one,
it feels like you're in the movies,
until you see the aftermath,
blood trickling from their ears
and you realize
it ain't a fake dead body,
its skin still feels warm.

It's one of the saddest things
I can remember.
So many AK's
put together
with duct tape
and held by
such young human-hands.
They looked like broken toys
gripped by young boys,
broken too.

I was in a dream state around her.
Her skin was made of porcelain,
jet black hair topped her crown
matching her feathered wings.
The face she wore was angelic,
cheeks like mountains,
the color of roses,
lips,
the smoothest
creamy-butter.
Her malachite eyes
glowed
as fine-crystal.
I felt certain
she was not
of this Earth.
Especially
after she
spoke
in an ancient tongue
& my heart felt
glued to hers.

I lay here in the dark
thinking
the conditions are perfect,
Your temperature
is wonderful,
so fine,
the moisture,
this wetness is just right
& you have
the proper
ingredients,
you are of the Earth
tonight.
Now for some magic...
wake up Honey,
come alive,
don't be elusive,
you are not
a dead log!

I was a rebel once,
fought the law
more than enough,
had my scrapes
and always lost.
If the system wants you,
it will gobble you up
and spit you out for sport.
And I'm told by an ancient proverb
to get back up eight times
after being knocked down seven.
But what if Heaven does exist?

I want to slide down your throat
& slip into your tummy,
get delirious,
stone cold
drunk
on your bile.
Then you can jump
& spin
& dance
& churn me
into a clear
yellow-liquid,
eliminate me
in rainbow colors,
write my name
in the sands of time.

It is peaceful here
in the meadow
outside your gate,
the zebras gather
& float between the ferns,
hues of jade & malachite.
I hear the lone Nightingale
deep in the bush
a **** does crow
& I am spellbound,
held breathless
by your nakedness,
my vision.

From between your raised hips,
I see you with my spyglass,
you're such a pretty maiden.
Hurry,
up with the black flag,
slide down my mast,
fast,
lie on your backside
sweet lady,
this will last
forever.

I cannot really it explain,
but I can give it
one helluva try.
It's a million (or more)
fuschia-pumpers,
the spilling of hemoglobin
& red corpuscles,
broken bones
bleached white,
lying in the sun.
And streams of blue
tumbling from
the duct-factory
& the silent
green fields.

Thin nylon strands
had us connected,
tethered together,
tiny living
specks
moving
like frozen molasses.

Certain death
was evident
on both sides
of the knife-edged ridge
with jagged
rocky bottoms.

We were mesmerized
by the curvature
& witnessed
falling stars
whistling past
our wool-capped heads.

Up there,
near Heaven
we were so alive,
more alive
than
the
dead
walking
down here
at sea level
witnessing nothing
(but mass media &
fake reality shows).

Sometimes it was easy,
like a cake walk.
They'd sparkle green
in the moonglow,
and we'd light 'em up,
mow them down.
All the technology
in the world
could not
drown out
their screams.
That was hard.

I want to be,
I want to be
your personal snail,
slither my tongue
up your spine,
so divine you are
as I cover,
I kiss,
every nook and cranny,
both elbows and knees,
the back and front
of your neck.
Geez,
down I slide
in between your
delicious *******,
then all the way
around
to your pool.
And there
refreshed,
I begin
to leave my trail
up
your gorgeous back,
shell-less
again.

My fingers
maddenly
stroke across
the letter-keys,
reproducing
my fiery thoughts
about you,
how I feel
& the acts
I want to do.
To kiss your lips
for an eternity,
and to trace
your beautiful form
forever
drives me
to the brink
of raw,
pure,
primordial creativity.
It's hard,
like granite,
these images imbedded
deep,
deep,
deep
inside my mind.
You intertwined,
wrapped around
my genetic impulses,
a ball of ions,
slapping me
into submission
& I release,
I release,
I release in spasms,
these multiple emissions.
Beautiful tokens
of my love for you,
unspoken
& electrical.
Do you ever think about me...
electronically?

Master Samurai
grimaces palefaced
& rows
toward me
over the blue *****,
bringing
his thunder.

Mister Tiger
grins toothy
& saunters
toward me
down the rocks
wearing his
pin-striped-camo.

Magical Red Dragon
grits his fangs
& floats
toward me
through
the grey clouds,
clutching vengeance.

Sweet Miss Butterfly,
with her brilliant blue
winged-coat,
*****
her iridescence
in a stream,
all over
my sweaty face.

I am surrounded by power,
I have no worries here,
I am the king of down dog.

They tortured me at the university.
They poured gallons of whiskey down my throat,
made me study boring subjects long into the night,
surrounded me with beautiful doll babies,
and lectured me until I was blue in the face.
The only trace that I ever existed there
are some records on microfiche
& a few faded pictures on fraternty composites
packed away,
taped shut,
in an attic box.
I still wonder if waterboarding
would have made me a genius
because the other methods
certainly didn't work.

She had a pink unicorn tat
running in a trail of pixie-stardust,
emblazed on her upper left shoulder.
Despite the ravages
up and down
her scarred arms,
she still kept the eyes
of a newborn doe.
Wide and brilliant,
but dimmed when
she rode the horse.
I cried all my reserves
when I heard
she crossed over
to the land of fantasy,
the resting place
for single-horned
animal lovers.
In no way,
did that sweet
little
dear girl
deserve such
a tragic ending.
Strangely now,
I shiver
when I look up
at the million twinkling stars,
I think of Becky
and her sad beginning.

We made a saint out of Nicolas
when we lost him.
We lost him
somewhere down Baja-way.
He was spinning his yarns there,
making magic in the desert,
a peyote fox,
then vanished
into thin air.
The last time we saw him
he was dancing circular
into the pitch,
waving his arms madly,
wildly speaking
in an ancient tongue.
Some of us believe
the mother ship came back.
I don't.
I think he turned feral
and continues
to cavort
on
the sabbath eves.

Only a ghost lies here now.
A stillness
hangs in the air,
it forever haunts you.
I keep you awake
incessantly at night
as you toss
and as you turn
remembering me.
There is an inferno
in your heart.
You see my shadow.
I run my fingers
through your hair
disturbing the vortex.
You know dear lady,
I came in that way.
Through the portal,
through the portal
of your open mind,
so jaded
so true.
Do you feel
my cold breath darling,
do you hear
my silent whispers,
can you
love me
anymore?
Only a ghost lies here now.

There's a place
I go
when I glow like this.
It's not of this Earth.
It's way beyond
this solar system,
like behind the sun.
There,
there
I explode
into a million galaxies,
I lie
in all my glory,
glistening,
covered
in thick-plasma,
the cosmic dust
stars are made of.
You could say,
I am a primordial astronaut,
a throwback,
back to the days
before the odyssey,
back to the days
before
artificial intelligence
****** things up,
destroyed
pure love.

Zace crooned something
about rocking her gypsy soul,
back in the days of old.
I get it man.
I get it you rocking crooner,
I feel as free
as I'll ever be.
And I feel that way,
everytime
I rock her soul.
She's that hot.
Thanks Zac.

Imagine
the sun
rising
in you
& him,
a marvelous
sunrise.
Indeed,
a seeding
from
the angels
way up high,
deep inside
your
beautiful mind,
so explosive,
fumes trailing.

Remember when honey,
remember when
we used to play
the game of doctor.
I always wanted
to take your temperature,
and you let me.
And afterwards,
when I was done,
you would lay,
you would lay
your head
on my heaving chest
with your stethoscope.
You told me
you loved the sound,
the sound
of my beating heart.
Whew
lady-doctor,
we sure
had some
clinical fun!

You lost your breath
when
I first
disappeared
into you
& when
we created
our own rythym,
it was your heart
that was next.
Mine too.

I used to crash with that flavor,
that flavor on my tongue.
Your taste was like grace
& your sugar,
your sugar
was
smeared
all over
my happy face.

She was perfect,
meticulous
with her bebop hairdo,
nails manicured,
her precious feet
neatly fitted
into her wedge
flip-flops.
Jesus, a one-piece French-cut,
the see-thru kind!
She blew my mind.
That's the way
it's supposed to be.
I counted every single
grain of sand
stuck
in between
her pretty toes,
she was perfect.

I've traced your lips a million times
& felt the presence of your raw form
above me
just as much.
And on many a night,
even at twilight,
and in the afternoon,
I have covered myself
thinking,
thinking only of you
Sweet Vision.

I heard a crotch-rocket
screaming
down the highway.
I mean,
it sounded as if
it was traveling
at supersonic speeds,
its gear shifting
was carried by the wind,
then it was gone
in a flash.
It left me here
sipping hot java
on the veranda,
wondering
about the open road
& the meaning of freedom.

I see the same old dudes
every day
down at the coffee shop.
Rain or sun,
it doesn't matter,
they're always
sitting,
sipping their cups of Joe,
trading stories
& wearing the same clothes.
Some wear tattered field caps.
One has an eye patch.
Some things never change.

They were strewn out everywhere,
all over the campground
lay naked firm-bodies
in every conceivable position.
The only audible sounds
were drunken snores
& the songbirds singing,
jumping merrily
in between the midnight revelers,
scavenging backpacks
for their morning meals.

I woke up,
sometime
in the middle of the night,
delirious,
on fire
for her
& I gripped
my imagination,
frenzied,
I swept myself
far away,
into another dimension,
beyond the clover fields.
I streaked across the room
& stardust trailed
my genetic-reaction.
I was covered
in tiny beads
of raw emotion,
like tiny fireflies.
Twinkle twinkle
little bugs.

I watched her
disembark
from
her Chevy truck
with the "Go Army" sticker.
She carefully strapped
on her metal legs
and walked to the bench
fifty feet away,
to sit
& skip stones.
It seemed like a struggle for her,
but she was persistent,
quite successful.
Seeing her like that
made me think
about
how much
I take for granted.
Like getting up
in the middle of the night
just to urinate.
She's gone now,
but I sure do hope
she comes back,
I can't wait to meet her,
feel her spirit.

I want to learn how to play it,
not just strap it on my back
like those counterfeit troubadors
playing it out on the fields of grass
with beautiful sweet ladies & no rhythm.
No.
I want to learn how to play it
with the desire of a rock star,
with the kindred spirits of the strings,
with the purists of the picks,
strumming with my finger-love.

I saw her through the pane,
her pretty smile,
her captivating-eyes,
reflected
off the mirror,
as she tried to hide
in the corner.
But animal magnetism
is hard to stop,
it passes through walls
when one feels it.
And all the willpower in the world
could not stop our mix,
it played tricks on our minds.
Still, I'm wondering
why she moved
a million miles away.
Could she not,
could she not trust herself,
this evil game we played...
it killed me.

She dripped her wildflower-honey
all over my body parts,
even on my stinger
& I'm buzzing
with happiness.
You should hear my wings,
they sing of the mountains.

The fog of chaos
limits your ability
to make rash decisions,
to feel the love.
And anybody
not wearing
the same uniform
in the zone
is a combatant,
verified or not,
where does the gift go
in the fog of chaos.
Pray tell.

Miles of ocean
stretched out behind her
reflecting the perfect amount of light
off her golden hair.
Bright pastel crystal ice-eyes
revealed her inner soul,
she didn't know it,
I watched her taste-test
every single sudsy-brew she poured.
Everyone else seemed oblivious,
hypnotized by the live oldies.
And as the sun sank lower west,
I got the feeling my journey
to this party spot
had been part of a larger quest,
created by the ancient maker
of the billion stars
that twinkled above us.
For we wore matching bandanas,
certainly it was a sign,
one of the finest moments ever.
We got to at least kiss & delve
into so much more
which eventually
was washed
away by the surf,
erased from Father time.