I remember a night patrol,
we were sweeping some streets
&  we happened upon a basketball game
being watched on an ancient television.
It was the Chicago Bulls vs. the Pistons,
none of the locals watching it
paid us a bit of attention,
their eyes never left the picture.
Basketball seemed more
important than
this War on Terror.
That was just another time
that the ludicrousy
(or fruitlessness)
of our mission
seemed apparent.
**** it,
Go Bulls!

What exactly is counter-culture?
Colorful sleeve tats,
neon hair,
outrageous fashions,
multiple ***** piercings,
crazy ******* ***?
I think not,
that ****'s been around
for centuries.
I apologize for my foul language.
:)

It was overcast that summer day
long ago,
I remember
a light cool-mist
covered our faces.
The way you looked was magnificent.
You wore a straw brimmed-hat
with a single fake daisy.
Even the way you baited my hook
was hot.

I am in love with the moonlight,
especially in the darkness
late at night
when I think,
when I think about
your tender ways
& you playing with me.
I am mesmerized by
the heaving of your *******,
the primordial fragrance
wafting in the cool air,
your burning pale skin.
I am in love with the moonlight
on nights like this.
Kiss me darling.

I watch the palm trees blowing,
visualize the white crystal sands
& I've seen those golden-liquid
television commercials.
Jesus pretty woman,
I smell the sea.
And when I think
about the beautiful dip
between your hip bones,
I get drunk
thinking
about rocking your soul.

I don't have all the answers
to every single question
you want to ask me.
How could I,
I'm not an ancient one
& I want you,
I hunger for a change.
And though your music
hurts my ears &
your fashions scream,
I'll let you be free.
I promise,
you will like the way
I can tickle you fancies,
set the mood
for you to disappear
inside of
my aching-heart,
your desire.

When you see
the colorful little buggers flying,
it's somewhat comical,
almost amusing,
as if God gave
these winged creatures
the prettiest array of feathers,
the most beautiful beak,
on the planet.
But they pay for it,
it's huge,
it's so doggone heavy
they can't keep
their headsup
in flight.
Well,
maybe that's not funny,
they could hit
somebody
or something,
knock themselves out!

There are untold treasures there,
amazing riches
for those chivalrous-guys
who can find the right,
the right key
to unlock
her lady-box,
covered with
the beautiful
glistening jewels
she wears
like a Queen,
her magnificent gems
I crave
knightly.

It looks like
it's one of those mornings,
where you lose all control,
you lying there like that,
pulling your knees to your nose,
wiggling your toes,
taunting me
with your flavor.
You know I adore you,
you know how to make a grown man swoon,
you are a pretty dream,
girl.
O Dear,
the moon's gone down
& you know,
this ain't no frown.
It's the biggest smile
in the entire universe.
Steady Darling,
hold it there,
moon or not,
it's going to be a great morning,
I can just tell,
you're going to agree...
see.

I am searching for the right words to flow
(do not fight me Sugar),
a configuration of hot stanzas,
or slippery free flow verse
to scribble,
to pen,
in an elegant fashion
(or maybe not so pretty),
to get my heated
sensual-point
across to you.
These fiery feelings
are scorching
my wanton-body,
they're raging,
all consuming.
My shaking-body is on fire,
it's a freaking inferno
up in here.
Ohhh Baby,
I want to loved,
squeezed really really hard,
adored like a king,
pounded incessantly
into a lovely
heated-submission,
where we both explode,
enjoy the most sacred explosion
in the entire universe.
The kind of explosive-action
where two internal fires
burn each other up
like gigantic sunspots....
So do you Darling,
do you Sweet Angel,
feel me trembling?
Do you feel my warm rush,
way up deep deep deep
inside your Heavenly gorgeous-body,
between your quivering thighs?
Ohhhh my God,
Alleluia,
do you see
the rising sun?
I can see it
in your incredible eyes
looking up and down
at me...
slay me please,
I can hear flowers sing,
I am born again!

I knew a biker chick once.
She was as tough as nails.
Her name was Jenny,
but she went
by the moniker
"Brass ***** Lady."
She had tracks up and down each arm
from a past life.
A broken heart tattoo
was etched on both hands.
She carried a switchblade,
had a set of initialed knuckles.
She wore a tie dye bandana.
Her vocabulary was not elegant.
**** and *******'
were her two favorite
expressions.
She had a chained
snakeskin wallet
attached to her
black leather belt.
You could see a faint
lovelight in her hazy-eyes...
but like I said,
it was faint.
It was the brotherhood,
those crazy
******* Mongols
who took her under their wings
and brought her back
to the land of the living.
I'm glad she was my friend,
'cause those guys
were nasty enemies to have.
And anybody
who was an amigo of Jenny's
was in like Flynn.
I loved Brass ***** Lady,
she gave me their colors
& nobody ever ****** with me either.

Sunlight played off
the limes & golds
& there were azures too.
And my oh my,
how the howlers howled,
as dew dripped down
from the canopy
above.
It was quite mystical,
those ancient stone faces
stared at something
even I couldn't see.
But you could feel it there.
Oh yes, you could feel it there,
between the vines & toucans,
something unspoken,
something unnatural,
like spirits
gathering
with angst
for the
clear-cutters.

It's hard to
make a habit
disappear.
But why would I?
The subject is mute,
the way you kiss me,
you're so ****** cute
& the breathless way
you look beneath me.
You love to play with my heart,
starting with those tender eyes,
and the tightness
of your thighs
wrapped
around my waist
during
our mutual bliss.
Are you kidding?
I can't break you,
it's quite simple,
you are my best habit ever.

So now my Darling Angel,
I will write of joy.
No more bloodlust,
no more
spilled guts,
no more
broken hearts
& anquish.
I will write of calm seas
& the moonbeams
reflecting off
your haunting
dark eyes.
The very thought of you
brings me
into submission,
into the spilling
forth
of these
love-seed words.
And I hope,
I do so fervently hope,
I impregnate you
with my happiness.

We found them,
lots of them,
boiling
in the midday sun.
Bleached skulls
grinning,
some toothless,
some children,
most with a single bullet hole
in the middle
of their foreheads.
Some had them holes
in the back
of their cracked craniums.
We knew it wasn't the Mafia,
for this wasn't
their area of operations.

Sometimes karma
isn't so instant.
Even so,
I still believe,
sooner or later,
your ****
is going
to get you.
Keep it up.
You'll see.

There were some days
we just said **** it,
we want red corpuscles.
Those were the times
that scared me the most,
I mean anything could happen.
Thank God
for my buddies.
I mean,
this was war
& we had
the weaponry
to do serious damage.
We did.
I saw ****.
Crazy ****.
The crazy ****
often associated
with armed conflict.

I will always remember him
& that it could have been me
stepping on
that horrible explosion
on that fateful
scorching day.
Carter* went up suddenly
in a pinkish-mist,
all the camels nearby
scrambled,
as he slumped in
excruciating agony.
It wasn't pretty,
seeing him lying like that,
exposed,
in a pool of blood
with no *******,
boots untied.
They hauled him out
screaming he wanted to die,
blood-curdling,
hollering ****** Jesus
(and for his Mother)
in a beefed-up Humvee.
It wasn't funny.
I wanted to walk point
that
morning,
but he insisted
on struttin' his big *****,
which tragically
he lost
forever
in Babylon.
That sizzling
hot
*******
Babylon.

I have tasted her
a million times (or more),
guzzled her sweet,
sweet,
sweet laced-nectar,
way deep,
deep,
deep,
deep
inside my yearning soul.
I am intoxicated
on her delicious-elixir,
she is my only fix.
So she must,
she must know
by now,
I crave,
I choke,
I burn for her.
For these
are her hiccups
I release
forever.
And I do thank her
from
the bottom
of my drunken-heart,
for making me tipsy,
inebriated,
so ****** smitten
on her mouth-watering
cherry-concoction.

By candlelight
in a nirvanic
seaside-place,
I imagine
my hungry tongue
tasting her saline
all the way up
her precious back.

Yes my Darling.

She sinks further
into the silk,
her milky body
moving serpentine,
releases her soul.

Yesssss my Sweet.

I whisper sweet nothings
to the sighs
of the angel's song
she sings
so sweetly.
We lie
contented
beyond belief,
wrapping ourselves
in true love,
both keepers
of the great mystery,
for all is right
this glorious night,
nothing is wrong
between us.

O Dear Lord,
this tenderness!

And outside,
the ocean
lulls us to sleep
in each other's arms.

I lie here
alone in the darkness,
an empty goblet
in my hand,
with hazy brown eyes.
The taste of Merlot
swirls
in my mouth,
and my beating heart,
though numb,
hurts.
And through the wall,
I hear the static of television
next door
& I wish I were there,
lying next to her,
the single lady
with porcelain pale skin
I saw checking in
just before midnight.
I wonder if she feels
my quickened breathing
when I grip myself
in fantasy,
thinking of her
own loneliness.
(She is mine).

The white pico
has appeared
for generations,
ever watchful,
an anxious lover,
hovering
since the ice age.
And now,
the mouth-watering
fragrance
of corn tortillas
& the primordial odor
of ***** chickens
wafts
through the alleyways
of the city
under the mountain.
Somewhere in the distance,
I hear a baby's cry
& the sound of mariachis.

Don't drop a dime in prison,
those guys are poor.

I want to take her with me
everywhere I go
on this vast planet.

We'll see amazing things
together,
experience
the unknown,
walk amongst
the blind people
unseen.

I want to cram her
into my patent leather
large suitcase
& connect the dots
to do it
first-class.

I claim not
to be a prolific writer,
I just can't stop
my creative mind control
over these itchy fingers.
O please wake up
& come back to me,
my restless soul,
I'm scared.

The tune is strangely melodic
sitting here
inside the burning candles,
this pentagram.
And around me,
I see them,
in full splendour,
a dozen or more
dancing nymphs,
******* swinging,
dripping madness
from between
their parted-thighs
conjuring Eros.
I sit engorged
to finish
the supper
they have laid
before for me,
these tasty morsels.

She had 'em all
by the *****,
every single
one of them
wanted a piece of her
& she loved it,
played them for fools
& it was comical,
watching them
wearing their
brightly-colored
pointed
bell-caps
dancing around her...
as if she really noticed
those imbeciles.

O how vividly
I remember
that cold
dreary
autumn-night,
for she
had toiled endlessly
to infuse
a spark of life
into my lifeless form
below her
& when
she rose above me,
parting
her
reddened
sweet
soft flesh
to taste our serum,
I came alive
& breathed
hot breath
for her toil,
yellow eyes flickering.

I don't need any light
to view my handiwork
when I'm with her.
I've gone over
all the nooks & crannies
of her sweet form
and every
conceivable
loving-action
I'm going
to do to her
in my wanton-mind.
Bring on the night
Baby!

I shutter when I look at her,
so fine,
her beauty shines
right on
through her lens,
I seriously loose my focus.
My f-stop goes
up and
down
the entire scale.
She is the perfect exposure....
**** digital technology,  
I am going back to film.

If some keep giving away their eggs
like that,
some dumb ***** are going to continue
to fill ignorant
selfish-needs
and breed
a world
full of unwanted babies.
I hear you.

*Inspired by Arlo Disarray's poem titled, "*****"

She just wanted him to be real,
to be held,
have somebody to dream with,
feel some real mutual kisses.
And though it only lasted
for a little while,
it was the best he ever had.
He still trembles
deep inside
when he thinks about her
like that.

I told myself,
when I got in-country,
I'd fake it,
act like a saint,
do enough
just to survive.
'Cause in reality,
I didn't really want to hurt
anybody.
Well, so I thought.
When I heard my first explosions,
felt a few whooshes,
experienced some automatic rounds
whizzing
just overhead,
so close,
nearby,
I thought
what the ****,
I want some blood,
those ******* are
really trying to ruin
my ******* day
by killing me.

I read about that ****,
screamin' mimis
in the 'Nam
& really didn't believe it
until I saw something
similar
near Mortaritaville.

That ***** was tough,
I mean,
she was picturesque,
a sweet
beautiful
f'n sight to behold.
Not too old,
but old enough
for frisky business.
She stood straight up,
with her back
to the crowd
facing the bar
grasping double-****** whiskies.
She was a freaking shooter,
rapid fire witchery,
hoisting them up
like there would
be no tomorrow.
And they didn't seem to phase
her neon azure mop
or the devil tats flipping birds
on her shoilders,
she was practiced,
certainly well-versed.
Her pendulous *******
were heaving,
both of them mightily,
covered with her sweat,
and red,
some yellow roses.
I loved her platforms,
plasticene white,
with jeans like leopards
exposing her lace
and fineness.
Jesus,
where do they make 'em
like her...where?

A light rain
covers my face,
tiny droplets
I swallow
& I taste,
I taste
the sacred heavens.

It's the exhilaration
I feel
cruising at mach one
down her slippery *****.
Her eyes beckon me
with visions of
being lost at sea,
a wavy motion
down on her knees.
Breathtaking.
I feel the entire universe
explode.
Traces of me
like mime-paint
makes me speechless,
overcome with raw emotion.
It's not a laughing matter,
this thing she craves,
we call it love.
And she's an expert
at it...
licking her lips.

There's a luscious place I go.
It's a short hike,
not far,
to this raging cascade.
So deep,
deep,
way deep,
deep
up in a manicured forest.
And there I tumble,
I roll over and over
into a dreamy
state,
the inner parts of my mind,
with thoughts of butterscotch,
your chocolaty kisses.
Then one by one,
I drop
into your stream,
I flow over the rocks,
down inside
your precious
shaking-thighs.
I miss that place,
that sweet
waterfall.

There is a splinter of rose
on the eastern shore
& I listen
to the ****** man
giving a report.
Crickets tone down
their symphony
in a dripping dew.
Somewhere in the distance
canines howl
a medley,
telling us
a new day is coming,
all is well.

I floated down
the rocky ridge
zephyr-like
in a trance.

Nearly touching the stars,
I counted llamas
scavenging
the maize slopes.
It was pure solitude
there,
above the navel
of planet Earth.

Scooting on
alone,
I listened
to my breaths,
felt each beat
of my pumping-heart
& forgot about
life for a moment
back in the world.

Oranges,
bananas,
and strawberries
split the sky
wide open.
It's the most
delicious
fruity-sunset
I've ever feasted
my hungry eyes on.
Yum.

I have no remorse,
but if I did,
it would be
the kind
felt between
the tectonic plates.
For I have no control
over shifts
in the great creation,
this place
we call home.

I have,
I love,
a sense of adventure
& I was,
I am,
doing
some deep thinking
& I own,
I ride,
a powerful horse.
I smell things
you cannot describe...
would like to say.
I can give you
what you want.
Tell me.

We'd play
Dungeons and Dragons
for hours
in the bunker at night.
We all had special powers.
Some of them worked,
some didn't.
I miss those guys.
I wore a cloak of invisibility
so I could
come
back home
to write about it.
(I Thank God,
my cloak
& my lucky stars.)

They came
& they went,
disappeared
sometimes
in a puff
of pink-mist.
Top gave us
some great advice.
Love them like brothers,
but don't get too close,
'cause when
they
get burnt like toast,
their ghosts
will haunt you the most,
forever.
I didn't listen.
Now all I see
are their eyes,
all I hear
are familiar voices,
their agonizing screams
in the night winds.

I was told to never
whistle at night,
for it called
back to life
the dead ones
and they'd be ******
for the awakening.
So now,
I push tunes
through my lips
only in the daytime.
The last thing
I want to do
is make dead people angry.
I'm haunted enough
by the living.

You've etched
the sun,
the moon,
and the stars in bright colors,
painted them in strategic spots,
all over your voluptuous body.
The ripples on your tummy
& the starlight emanating
from your malachite-eyes
speak more than
the wisdom
of the ages.
And those belt marks,
the raised red welts,
on your nice ***
are so revealing.
Pray,
please tell me
about that story...
you pretty naughty one.

I love the surf at night,
the ebb,
the flow
of mountainous waves,
the tumbling,
the wet sounds
of pure
raw nature,
the relentless pounding
of the Earth.
So every chance I get,
I walk the lonely shoreline
under the cloak of darkness,
God's tiny,
sparkling lanterns,
just to be,
just to be
one with the ocean,
the Goddess of all eternity,
so beautiful
she is
so fine.

I'm not sure if blowing **** up
was a fringe benefit or not.
I mean,
you can't do that kind of stuff
out here,
in this crazy
uncivilized world.
Homeland Security
would have a field day
if I started playing
around like that.
Then again,
why not live on the fringe,
it is a benefit
of the byproduct freedom...
I almost forgot.
Shhhhh...

I love the beads.
you know the ones
I'm talking about,
formed below your button
& Darling
when you hold yourself like that,
you must know what it does to me.
So prepare,
prepare yourself
for your anointing,
I know you love them.