I heard a Song of Kashmir
& for once,
I understood passion,
the yearning of the heart.

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!

I'm in love with modern technology,
computer screens
& push buttons,
it's an age of immediate gratfication,
carefully calculated
to **** the dopamine
right out of broken hearted lovers.
I'm in love with modern technology
I can't get no satisfaction
& I try
& I try,
not to cry.

Pictures of dead people I know
are smiling and are so full of life
hanging on my wall
reminding me
to seize this day,
because it's not cliche,
and it won't come again.

I taste bile in my windpipe
& wipe away my tears,
crying,
'cause
I was your fall guy,
got ****** by
your pretty smile.

I loved your smile
& the first time
I watched myself
disappear like that,
I understood why,
you were the
prettiest person on Earth.

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.

"So what's it like slick,"
she asks,
"living your life in an asylum?"
And I sthay,
"I dunno Missusth."

But sthill I wonder
if the sthraightjackets fit tightly there,
why I might like little white pillsth,
electric-shock treatmentsth,
& sthcrewdriver-lobotomiesth.

So hey you Missusth,
I know
thisth ain't working out here any more
& yet I,
I continue to sthare at the ceiling,
watch the fan sthpinning,
listening to melancholy voicesth
whisthpering from
sthingle blades of grassth.

They ask me thingsth  
about my crazinessth too,
as if I sthupposed to know
anything
here
on the insthide
looking out
with the door closthed.

That means sthut lady,
with an aposthrophe-s,
'sth.

I traced your quivering lips
with my shaky fingers
& we stood
speechless,
teary eye to teary eye,
& realizing it was ending,
we parted
for the last time,
turned
& walked away
on our love.

She said,
"Before you get in my britches,
you'd better fly,
give me a gold coin,
tell me how beautiful I am."

I replied,
"Honey, you're beeeeuuuutiful!
Here's a gold coin.
Sorry, I can't fly, but
I'll start taking classes next week."

She smiled,
winked, and
walked away
with my token.
Guess, that wasn't good enough......

O how
I remember you
pretty darling,
my crazy superstar,
making lovely
water bed waves
on the VCR.
But Dear Lover,
that technology's outdated,
we've got to try,
to try something new.

She's dark, yet
moonlight glows
inside her soft-eyes
& despite her
tragic-aura,
I still want
her blackness,
to taste her magic,
to kiss
the devil inside her.

Take a little break darling,
you're the one in charge,
calling all the shots.
Make your way
to the back room,
stand against the wall
in between the stock shelves,
and dream about me.
I'm right there with you.
Can you feel my warm breath
on your delicate pretty neck,
imagine my hard form
standing behind you,
loving you
into beautiful submission?
I am in heat for you.
I need another break doll.
Break me.

One badass chick,
she strutted like a peacock
all the way down the block.
Men craned their necks
just to catch a glimpse
of her,
flicking her cigarette,
shaking her wares.

She walked right on by me
& winked,
had a little smirk
on her precious puckered-lips.
Geez, what a head of hair.

And though it made me sick,
I kind of giggled
to check out her aftermath.
Guys just stood there in awe,
dumbfounded,
bug-eyed
& I counted
no less than
six hanging-tongues
drooling.

She followed my veins like a roadmap,
said I was the trip of her lifetime.
My arms began the journey
and the others
she said
were just paydirt,
her sweet dessert,
the beginning to the end
of her roadtrip.

Yin Yang lovers meet
Enjoy each others treasures
Explosive pleasures

Once,
we drove my pick-up
into outer space.

I swear,
it's true,
we literally left the planet.

O sure,
we were high on alcohol,
had to crawl to the truck
for ignition.

But regardless,
think of how far we drove,
to Neptune & back,
twice before sunrise.

I'm in love with excitement,
turned on by action,
enamoured with the arts.

Quick moves intoxicate me,
I'm all over teamwork
& my heart is ruled
by high adventure.

I was hoping it was you,
the one who would
make me sizzle,
set me on fire,
help me live
a bit in the edge.

And, could it be?

O Darling,
you can't be serious,
leaving me delirious,
all alone
with mutant turtles!

We crossed over
into the hinterlands,
burned trails
to unnamed  
watering holes,
those dingy places,
where we
lifted our hands
backwards,
tilted our heads upwards
to the gods
& drank copiously.

There was no law,
only disorder, but
nobody ever got in our way,
so we continued with impunity
to play wildly.

In altered states,
we mated
with unknown devils
who ****** us dry,
left us crying as
broken down dogs,
barking at the moon
& swearing oaths,
promises of silence,
what happens
south of the border,
stayed south of the border.
And it did.

After a hard days fight,
we were taken prisoner
by the grays.

It was way out in the hinterlands,
on the edge of tomorrow,
in the Battle of Sorrows
when they took us in.
Light was failing,
it was nearing night
when they brought us
in for interrogation.

Of course,
despite their methods,
we told them nothing,
nothing that would reveal anything
about the secret weapon,
the star-killer machine
that would be
the end of life
as we know it.

Besides, it's silly
to give the enemy
such valuable information,
information like that could turn the tide,
could destroy the whole universe,
make losers out of all of us.
I hope our side keeps it hidden.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Second Sunday of the month,
69 & a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month,
*******
& a mutual ******.

Third Sunday of the month
*******
& a mutual ******.

She told me
I was a bad boy
for breaking
her precious heart
& I said, "Well baby,
I'm so very sorry
to make you so very sad,
but I'm so glad, so merry,
'cause now I'm very free!"

And with that
she retorted,
"Right on bad boy,
me too!"

Seems like
she loved freedom
just as much as me,
who knew?

It's a special blend
of leaves & spices,
the warmth it brings
goes down so smoothly.

While waiting for the mint
to take effect,
I travel on
an ethereal journey.

I fly to the
streets of Casablanca
& listen to tradition,
searching the faces
to find my kindred.

And when I find them there,
I close my eyes in comfort,
soothed inside
my wildest dreams,
my own special blend
of leaves & spices.

I wonder if other lifeforms
have Twitter & Facebook,
watch You Tube,
or if they are more advanced
& use other forms of social media,
like anti-gravity billboards,
clairvoyant message boards
or mind-implant videos?

Cecily burned herself with cigarettes
& scratched herself all the time,
she even used razors
to etch ******-artwork
into her flesh,
so milky white.

She was the prettiest flower
in the bouquet &
carried the most robust spirit.
Her eyes reflected
ocean-hues,
sunlight glowed off
her chopped-hair,
an Eveready battery,
she never stopped.

Just a spit of a woman,
she had the biggest set of *****
that most men
could only dream about,
die for.

And it killed me to see
her get into these
self-destructive habits.
It always left me wondering
why such a cute baby doll,
this bad *** warrior-woman,
would want to create
such randoms acts of pain.

But then again,
the answer was in her eyes,
unspoken & blue.

I see Cardinals
reminding me
of the dead.

So bright & red,
they chirp beautifully,
sing a wondrous melody
above my head,
going nowhere
& I think,
perhaps,
I am better off
being a singing-bird
with vibrant plumage,
flying.

Locked love-connection
Enjoy each others senses
Sweetest connection

So apropro,
her nickname suited her.

She was sweeter than wildflower honey,
finer than gosssmer,
nicer than a cool summer breeze
& made men fall to their knees.

And though he didn't look like one,
he certainly acted like one,
whenever she came sround.

I'd swim there
forever,
in those delicate waters,
shimmering,
basking
in your elegance,
cascading
from
the pool in the small of your back,
down between
the beauty
of your womanhood,
in your succulence,
I'd dive.

I took a shower with Heaven
once under
a brilliant
sky of splashed milk.

She exploded,
   then giggled
at our *******-sounds,
the beautiful noises
we made in earnestness
up against the slippery wall.

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.

Let yourself go now
Relax, you're flowing waters
Flying like eagles

It was early fall,
the leaves were vibrant
when I crawled to the bar,
catch myself a weekend buzz.

Fred’s drinks were pure trouble,
more jet fuel than mixer.
I mean you could torch your breath
after just one sip.
Rock blared there like a live concert,
loud enough to make you a deaf mute
after just one drink.
The dark walls swirled,
moved in & out, carnival-like,
I purred-down
Jack-elixirs.

I first saw her shining
from across the Mahogany bar.
She was hidden in the shadows,
a real good looker.
Her amber hair was crazy,
blowing everywhere
like the bride of the stitched-man,
electrode-neck.

She might have been a ******
or a nose-candy queen,
but after what the bartender gave me,
it really didn’t matter,
life was played ******* the edge
in them days.

I was enthalled with her,
captivated by her lady-vibes,
she was the perfect last call.
We sang rock and roll songs
in my 455 rocket, crawled
the back roads,
looped
all the way
to my country-place.

We were on auto-pilot,
dropped our guards,
fell into each other’s embrace.
She smelled like salty-patchouli,
had a killer innocent-face,
kissed me with fire,
such strong desire,
a beautiful-wantonness.
Her eyes were so red & green,
indeed she was
the consummate,
the prettiest,
late-night dream girl.

She was bathed in bright ink,
the sun, the moon, the stars,
vividly scrawled on her back
along with a frowning-tiger.
Above her privacy, I spied
a smiling-gnome
with outstretched arms
screaming, “I Wuv You.”

I obliged him,
there was no fighting
her ***** to the wall demeanor.
We shook the planet,
frolicked way past the wee hours,
deep into the noon hour.

When the earth-shattering stopped,
I was hung over on her & the jp4.
We crashed still trashed,
I still don’t know
how I ever got her home.

I want to split you in two,
tickle your cherry stem
& sprinkle you with sugar drops.

I've thought about marshmallow,
some vanilla cream
on top of your lemon tarts
& rolling my tongue
to spread it.

Honey dripped onto your flower
would be tastier than flaked-baklava,
a little whipped cream
& nuts would certainly
finish you off.

But I do dream of stuffing your pastry
with my creme-filled cannoli.
That would be the ultimate dessert,
don't you think sweet lady?

The campfire burned low,
embers roasted
their glow off your pretty face
as we snuggled beneath
the splashed milk
holding hands,
we wished to stay
there forever.

And somewhere,
an owl
gave his report
as firefly ash
swirled upward
to the starlit sky
with our dreams attached.

The wind blows
chilling me
& a rising sun
warms my face.

Rain falls on my lips,
sprinkles
my naked body
& I get turned on.

It's that easy,
what Mother Nature
does to me.

I find my refuge in poetry.
For in twisted stanzas,
that passionate-scribbling,
I can read of blue skies,
write amber waves,
dream rusty signs squeaking,
flapping in hot summer breezes,
oil rigs pumping & wavy-trees,
behind broken screened doors,
I hear phone’s ringing,
laughing children screaming.

I can eat biscuits & gravy,
savor catfish & string beans,
see the rolling plains,
feel the clapping thunder,
listen to yellow parakeets
as the morning sunlight
peeks through stained-glass,
the pitter patter of gentle rain.

Sitting on porch swings,
watching ripples on streams,
inhaling rivers of cigarette smoke,
I visualize hay rolls & barbed-wire fences
under flocked geese in flight.

Soothing wind chimes in c-minor,
jingling, meandering
through lace curtains,
I lay on lily white tiles
crying, clutching my tissue,
trying to make it through
another starless night.

Rocking with Eric’s slow hand,
wearing Tony Lama’s & driving Buicks,
this random selection of cells
I cannot keep inside me.
There are millions of things hidden
in my stronghold of words,
yet to be written.

It's a technological age
& Baby,
you've got my number,
I love you close-up.
live to see your sweet flow,
'cause I know Honey,
you've been
thinking about me.

Did you get new drapes &
an amber pillowcase Sweetheart?
They're pretty nice!
I just wanted to tell you,
they match your
gorgeous hair
perfectly &
when you
hold yourself up
like that,
well...let's just say
it makes me want
to shout out
a few *****-things
I'd like to do with you.
If you only knew,
oh, if you only knew,
wink wink.

And when
your sparkling-eyes
meet mine,
it gets me going,
but it's really
your spread
feminine-thighs
that keeps me honest.
No lies, I'm yours to keep,
you can have me forever,
I promise.

O Doll Face,
your lacy lingerie,
so stunning,
so very ****
& amazingly sensual,
especially
the crotchless ones,
what scrumptious
****-fun,
yum, yum!

O Darling,
my Sweet Sugar Pie,
you're the greatest,
& oh how I love you,
you & your selfies,
so discreetly,
they move me.
no lie!

Two souls kiss embraced
Exchanging fiery streams
Dreamy nirvana

I love my early morning hikes
in the Georgian-woods,
where alone
I glide along,
my feet carrying me
through the zephyr-mists,
upward on the granite stairway
into the disappearing stars
& onto the bald-summit.

Happily,
I stand exposed
on another sacred-peak,
one of God's gifts
for wayward hikers,
smiling.

I've always loved
the pretty flowers,
watching them swirling,
twirling in the light breezes
gets my juices flowing.
And you darling,
you are a radiant tulip,
an unfolding cutie,
I crave your
sweet pretty lips
smothering me
with such beauty.

I want to
swallow your organism,
taste your bacteria,
swim in your virus,
catch your disease
& become viral.

I am consumed
by your fever.

Stimulate me
with ****-symptoms,
split me
in you petri dish,
mutilate me,
break my cells
into smaller molecules,
help me to succumb.

Take me over the top,
bring me to
ferocious-******,
one without a cure,
leave me
forever wishing
for no antidote.

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.

I'm being watched by an alien presence.
I can feel it.
Therefore all my musings
will be short,
snippets written
under duress.
But I confess,
they will get longer.
As soon as big brother
leaves my nest.

I desire to go deeper
into your intimate-space.

I yearn to travel into
all your nooks and crannies.

I want to decipher
a new language,
implement fresh code
onto your mainframe.

My aim is to please
beyond all recognition.

Can't you tell Sweet Darling?
I'm in love with modern technology
& its swell electric-buzz!

I sat in the shadows
as the sun went down,
eavesdropped
on my passing neighbors.
The lady couple went by first,
holding hands
& kissing,
whispering about the rising moon.

Then came the hetero-couple.
He walked in front,
leaving her behind
as if leading her
on a primrose path.
He was laughing,
spewing words
about
******* lezbos.
She was still in tow
when she spotted me
& flipped me off.
I thought, what a lovely couple.
Not.

I carry
your memory
everywhere I go.
It hangs
inside my soul,
seems stuck there
permanantly.

For your beauty
will never die.
Like a thistle,
it clings
to my heart
forever.

She put him out,
crushed his soul
like a spent cigarette
& he became just another ****,
in an ashtray of regrets,
piled high with broken hearts.

It's really quite simple
& not so scientific.
Unconscious he says!
Even drunk,
there is no desire,
absolutely no desire,
to be with
my birth-mother.
Nada.
None.
Zilch.
Quite simply,
Freud was nuts.
Simply nuts.

Your triple crown
topped in
ice-aged white,
rises above the morning light,
breathtaking,
so majestic & tranquil.
Many have succumbed
to your magic,
to the dangerous-passion
you do satisfy.

I heard you calling,
seducing me
in an alpinista language.
Your ancient frozen voices
shoot snow streamers
into the blackened skies,
beckoning me
to take your summit,
but only if
you'll let me.