Sweet melodies
swirl around me
like nag champa
in my stronghold,
this sacred place,
keeping me serene,
under the glow-stars
which never twinkle.

I love her grip
when she's not here.
It is as strong
as mine,
excruciating.

O Sweetness,
harken Dear Angel...
have a seat,
lower yourself
onto your throne,
your sacred place
above me.
O how nice
your Royal Highness!
Let me view
your full majesty,
let me glisten
with your royalty,
come inside
your splendor.
O my delicious Queen,
you are supreme!

I love women who
are legitimate badasses.
The ones who can hang glide
into any night club,
belly up to the bar
and order two sets
of double tequila shots,
then flip off the bouncer,
and drive all the way
home,
backwards
with their eyes shut.
I've only met one,
she had black eyes.
Nope,
not the skin
surrounding them,
but the irises.

It can be a good thing
when lightning,
when lightning
strikes
in two places
at the same time...
it's rather electric...
mutual...
quite titillating
I think.

He drove
and drove
and drove
and drove
and drove
and drove
and drove
and drove
and drove
and drove
toward the horizon,
to catch the falling sun
at the end of a long black ribbon,
until the road finally stopped.

I hung
onto
the tail of a comet
once.
Rode it throughout
the entire galaxy.
What a ride.
Hot,
long & ice.

Like blue jean bell bottoms,
she came and she went.
A great memory
I will wear forever.

Billy J's pieces
were packed up
into one bag
& I know they did they're best,
but they missed an awful lot.
Splattered chunks of him
were still stuck
to the soffit
hanging
over us.
Mainly his brain.

So if you lay
on your tummy
& I drag
my tongue
slowly along
the entire length
of your pretty backbone
would you be impressed,
or fall in love,
lying.

Things can go both ways.
I know.

She was over thirty and married.
I was 15 and couldn't even shave yet.
Still, she took my dreams away,
the ones I kept
about a white wedding
& being saved
for that special one.

Things can go both ways.
I know.

She ******* stole my dreams
feeding her own pleasure.
And sure it was nice.
Very.
But I mean
who doesn't like
those kind of physical feelings?
**** it
would have been better
if she had warned me
about not being the first.
I could never be honest
again
after that.
That hurt the most.

Things can go both ways.
I know.

Everybody
should carry
their own business card
someday.
They are definitely icebreakers
& can certainly give a person
a sense of pride.
And what a great way
to spread personal information
about one's true worth.

Perhaps, they should all
read something like this:

(Front of Card)

Jonny Angel,
A Human Being

(Back of Card)

Wannabe Poet
Lover of People
Idealist

Now, if we could find a way to spread them globally...

I always have dreams,
these spectacular visions
of mile high sand dunes,
skies blanketed with
millions of twinkling stars,
caravans disappearing
into the darkness
of the deepest pitch,
and me.
Me riding atop
the lead animal
searching,
finding my way back,
back to the
most beautiful woman
in all of creation.
You.

Mr. Jones always was
a bit of a freak,
he was so reclusive,
kept himself pent-up
in his ramshackle abode
most of the time.
And talk about elusive.
He'd float back
and forth to his
inconspicuous
beat up 'ole Rambler
in between commercials.
The weird hours he kept
had the neighbors talking,
staying up long into the night,
light pouring from
a sliver in his garage door,
clanging metal,
sawing away on things.
Somebody said
they heard a cat scream.
It came as no surprise to anybody
that he was
the number-one suspect
in the disappearance
of two school children
from the next town over.
The mounted
roadkill-skulls
on his mailbox
may have been a clue.
One of them was human.

She arrived splendidly,
a hot damsel in distress,
so beautiful,
so very nice
in her tight
silken
flowered-bodice.
And I came
in bright armor,
to feed her
insatiable hunger
under many
a moonlit night.
Then sadly
she left me,
out in the cold
to hunger for
more of her.

Alone in the darkness,
I held on tightly
to myself
as my heart raced.

Feverishly
building to a crescendo
with heightened-breathing,
I kissed the sky
& painted
the air
a brilliant shade
of bliss.

(Then I watched a burning star fall
to its death)

I am told by many
I was born
the sweetest angel,
and some have say,
I am the biggest devil.
Well certainly,
I believe them all,
I would not tell a lie
smirking,
with this twinkle
in my dark eyes.
I do lick my lips
seductively
and kiss the sky
wantonly,
seeking deliverance
for myself,
for my sins,
the sensuous acts
of a passionate lover.

She flows over me
& I am awash
in her splendid bubbles,
her majesty
covering me,
coating me,
circulating around me
in the sweetest foam
I swallow,
I swallow,
I swallow her
to taste
the deeper mysteries,
and am smitten
for eternity,
the glow of
her secretive-ways.

She walks along the silver strand
singing a song of love,
her arms wide open,
her hands waving
to the coming tides,
she is stellar.
And deep inside,
she hides
the greater mysteries
of the depths,
the ebb,
the flow of her heart
that nobody truly knows,
save the sirens
keeping her secrets safe.
And now she stares out,
out toward
the tempest seas,
crying no more
for the lost mariners
of her beautiful dreams...
her eyes are
the sharpest-azure,
& her ***** still
holds
the purest heart.

I was a sixty gunner once.
Don't blame me.
It wasn't really my choice,
I had more muscle,
carried twenty-five pounds
(or more)
of belted ammo.
I loved tracer rounds
the best,
they would
light up the night
& you could stay on target
much easier,
especially during
those early-morning
L-shaped ambushes.
You had to
expend rounds quick
because it would not take long
until you became
the next target
during the attacks.
But I was lucky.
I made it back intact,
I survived
a shitload
of missions.
The number is still classified,
I think.

It's ******* humid again outside.
The sweat is dripping,
streaming down my back,
it feels like slippery ants,
powderpuff.
There was a time
when you couldn't wait
to ******* brine.
You'd rip my pants off,
delicately.
You had *****
bigger than most guys,
I loved them
swinging
between your milky thighs.
The gutteral sounds you made
told me you were sunk,
so smitten,
in a dream state.
And when
I tasted our elixir,
you became lost
in another dimension.
Do you hear my calling?
It's ******* humid again outside.
I want to swallow us
whole,
you beautiful holy child
with wicked
sienna eyes.

You wore a look on your face
that day
that revealed
your truest nature.
It was primordial,
a sweet devilette
smilng,
so raw,
the chocolate
ice cream
dripping
from the corner
of your luscious lips,
the ones that used to kiss me,
the ones
I could never
get enough of
during our break.

Whether
you
believe it or not,
I
loved you
so.
You
were
the one
I never
got
to have,
to be
mine.

She left a trail,
a meteor tail
streamed
behind her
everywhere she went,
her skirt hiked up.
An aura of flowers
floated around her
pretty face,
so fresh,
blossoming.
She left no doubt
of her *** appeal.
It was real,
totally unreal,
dreamy - like.

My back was taut there,
I stood rigid,
hard as granite
& closed my eyes.
I kissed,
I licked
the frozen rain.
I hugged,
I squeezed
the gale force winds.
I fingered,
I cupped
the zephyr
at six thousand meters.
It was cosmic,
totally *******,
genuine nirvana
& breathless too.

I write my poems
in between
sets of pumping iron.
This is my sanctuary,
my stronghold,
the place I go
to remember you
& the better times.
Clank,
clank,
clank,
I miss you.
Thank you
for those days...
darling.

I thought
I was
not just another guy
until I saw you
at the ice cream
getting a double dip
ice cream cone
with him.

When you put a drop of ylang ylang there,
it's titillating.
Whew.
You know just how to capture me dear lady,
dipping yourself in patchouli
like that.
Nice.
Jesus,
you have me
under a spell,
your sweet
succulent
buttery spell.

You really want to know
how any of us feels,
this long line of broken hearts.
It's melodic,
the sound of mandolins
& cymbals.
Every single one of us
is scared.
They always go away,
our lovers,
those sacred ones
who chained us
with heartstrings.
There is never enough time
not to be afraid.

Fallen angel,
I can wait an eternity like this,
cut to the bone,
I have flayed myself.
See the red blood flow,
my heart chopped
into tiny pieces.
I want to kiss you,
feel the heat
emanating
from your lips
cut open.

Everytime we went
skipping stones
you wore
wildflowers in your hair.
They accentuated
your pretty face,
spoke volumes
of your inner grace.
Breathtaking.
Every man loves a lady
who wears
wildflowers in their hair.

It's quiet here
at this time,
except
for the light rain,
its tears rolling
down my pane.
It's moments like these
when I cry inside
remembering,
remembering you
lying here
next to me
in the dark.
I traced
your sweet lady-form
with my finger
and you giggled girlishly,
holding my heart.
It was wonderful darling.
I remember too,
I remember
how much you loved the rain
& our quiet
tender moments.
And now all I trace
are my lips
missing you.

Everyday they were there,
like clockwork
they were showered
with candy,
always smiling,
thumbs up America.
Then one day,
we heard the explosion.
It shook the ground in ripples.

Thank God
they detonated early,
before the patrol.

Shortly thereafter,
we left our enclosure
with our full loads.
What a nightmare,
****** carnage,
a horrible disaster.
All that was left,
from what we could tell,
were clumps of their bodies parts,
which included two sets of
bare children's feet.
It was more legitimate proof
of what we called
the radicalization
of the younger generation.

I loved that devil
when he was first applied.
Now, I hate him.
Things change.

I know you caught my drift
with me
standing
so close
behind you.
You felt,
you felt,
you felt
me,
me,
me,
my hardened steel
sizzle,
melting
in your tempest fire.

The hurricane had blown in
unexpectantly
across our island paradise,
suffice to say,
the next day was one of awe
& serious clean-up.
And in the midst of it all,
anger sprang forth
& the drunks got cut
for stealing,
feeding their hungry faces
with king crab
inside the burned out shack.

The other day
down at the shoe store
I heard a grown cry baby
******* & moaning
about his new shoes
not matching his socks.
And I was thinking,
"Dude,
are you for real!?
You should be grateful,
be happy
you've even got feet
to put them in.
I know a whole ward
full of mature fellows
over at the V.A. hospital
who would love to trade
places with you.
******* cry baby...."

I had a break
in my morning routine
& ordered
a Godzilla sushi roll
for brunch.

It was right on time,
a true global affair.
The waitress was Chinese,
the hostess a Thai,
the chef a Mexicano
& the food Japanese...

...only in America.

My Drill said,
"Jump soldier."
I asked him,
"Why &
how high
Sergeant?"
He said,
"That doesn't matter boy,
yours is to do,
not to ssk why,
just die."

The outer world is trembling,
boys are dreaming here,
you cannot hear their voices.
Metal clanking,
those fireballs &
tracer rounds
cannot touch them
tonight.
Not in this state.

Clairvoyance is in
the minds of the beholders,
if they be true,
those yearning hearts,
stars trickle
a romance
electric.

She held up the bar like Goliath,
standing there so stoic,
ordering Stoli's on the rocks,
her arms draped in ink-stories.
The scorpions on her elbows
were as revealing
as her broken heart shoulders.
She stood there beautifully,
clenching the tiny glasses
with love and hate
written on her delicate scarred-fingers,
downing the clear Russian-liquid
as if it were a serious habit.
A cascading mop of lime hair
spilled over her darling face,
attempting to hide
her eyes of pure
sweet magic.
Whew.
Kabam.
Abracadabra.
Hypnotized,
I wondered why
anybody
would ever
want to hurt
such a beautiful creature...
But sadly,
I watched her slowly go,
bebop into the swirling crowd,
disappear
into a cloud
of burning tobacco.
The heavy bass
broke my thumping heart.

Those critters are squirrelly,
living in an exposed den
& slinking around
the wooded neighborhood
as if they're unseen by me.
Little do they know,
despite their cleverness,
the blending in of their furs,
I track all their movements.
If they knew,
I'd been privy,
watched everything they do,
then perhaps,
perhaps
they'd come out
of their own denial.

It ain't right to break
a heart like that,
but who hasn't been tricked
or treated
to that
kind of behavior.
The sad fact is,
that holiday,
if that's what you
want to call,
ain't never going away.
So save your candy
for a rainy day.
Whether you like it or not,
they're going to come,
sooner or later.
Knock knock.
Trick or treat...

I remember the crazy times
we'd travel down south
to the outlaw town of Ensenada.
We'd swing by Hussong's
for some golden elixir
& Mezcal mixers.
It was a fun wild-place,
where having your face
rest in your own *****
was allowed at your table.
I mean nobody gave a ****** about such things.
It was truly a place where anything went,
especially drunkenness.
The last time we visited,
some twenty years ago,
we lost two hitchhikers
we had picked up
in Malibu
on the PCH.
Now years later,
I wonder how,
or if
they ever made it back.

The last time I saw McIntyre
he was missing his face and choppers.
I think about him all the time,
traces of him linger.
I still have our bunker pictures.
That's how I want to remember him,
when he had skin with whiskers
and a full set of teeth.

I dreamt last night,
sometime in the wee hours,
about cherry marmalade.
How I'd like
to have had it
spread all over my face,
from chin to forehead,
covering both of my lips.
When I suddenly awoke
breathless,
I thought  how'd I've used
my tongue and fingers
to get every last
tasty morsel
of a dessert like that,
even in my dreams.

When I first saw her
cruise into the health food store,
I immediately thought of Camelot
and all those visions of chivalry.
But at the checkout line,
she was rough.
I mean,
mean,
like really ******,
treated the cashier
like dirt,
as if she were
all high and mighty.
I'm not sure what she's been through,
but it really doesn't matter,
she's afflicted with something
chivalry can't cure,
like the lack of a kind heart.
I'd rather date a friendly camel
with no humps,
I'm sure it wouldn't mind
a few manners.

O My Gracious Dreamy One,
Mi Heaven-sent Amore,
I do so love,
I do so love
the excellent
breathtaking-views
lying from atop
your granite tips,
your gorgeous
hardened-peaks!

But I,
I must tell You
quite succinctly
Darling,
your valley is much,
much,
so much sweeter,
it touches my soul,
that sacred place,
where your glacial streams
flow
&
pool
for me,
your most ardent,
admiring,
alpinist-lover!

On it,
life and death are but mere thoughts,
but who has time to think
in the face of ice-winds
placing one foot in front of the other,
watching
the curvature
of the Earth
below the coming sun
fracturing reds
against the darkness.
O Jesus, how I miss the ridge lines.