I think she’s drop dead
A fox hidden in disguise
It’s in her sweet eyes

The aura around her
is hotter than sunspots,
she permeates pure-woman,
allows me private indiscretions.

I can twist her,
bend her in half,
partake in her heavenly assets.
She lets me take her to different universes,
I kiss her everywhere,  
my tongue trickles
from her bellybutton south
where my mouth
lips her magic,
that’s a place I like to be.

There’s only one thing
I like better than this,
& it ain’t a cold Heineken.

Cigarettes & candy are great tools for propaganda.
But ***,
cancer and rotten teeth ****.
Good Samaritans my ***.

She was a bit older,
aged like a fine wine,
bubbly & red-hot,
she had stars on her hips,
knew how to push the limits.

I was mesmerized
the moment
she kissed my lips,
I could taste her berry,
it was the perfect Sherry.

Endless tables
spewing debauchery,
mountains of tequila bottles
piled half-empty & empty,
faces lying in ***** & nuts,
bodies strewn about
in various
poses of comprehension.

Guys in the alley
stood in a long line
for the ******
standing, her hands
against the wall.

The Federales seemed
as bewildered
as the frolicking public
& the drunk gringos
having a ball
listening to mariachis.
They had duct tape
holding their guns together,
that was surreal.

Unnatural
he became,
up at all hours
walking the main deck
in gales & in the calm
watching the ripples,
the birds above the ocean
for any sign of recompense.

He burned the midnight oil,
toiled with the trivial,
fought with himself
for dominance.

He had become mad,
blocking out reality
because the white fish
had stolen his leg
& in the process,
hell came knocking
to sink his ship
& to break
his black heart.

It was as if
I were witnessing
a classic Hollywood western.
There I was
stuck in Lubbock
on that windy as hell day,
so I dropped into
the local drinking establishment
to guzzle some whiskey
for a spell.
It wasn't long before
she drove up
riding the prettiest Harley ever,
all chrome and polished black
with the sweetest sound
a bike could make,
it purred like a kitten.
She leaned that baby
up against the wall outside
& strutted like John Wayne
(some would argue Marlon Brando)
into the cantina
where she bellied up to the bar.
Every male jaw in the joint
was dropped
watching her down
three shots of Cuervo,
pay the check in hard cash,
a big bill,
and saunter right back
out of the place
like she owned it.
She was mesmerizing,
fluid motion,
tight jeans,
a rattlesnake sway.
Every man stood at the window
to watch her kick her stand up
& disappear
on that long black ribbon
into the falling sun,
breathtaking...

Like lightning it hit me,
those true colors
so revealing.
The next
flavor of the month
ain't ice cream,
it's real flesh & blood,
sensitive-skin &
brittle-bones
you're tasting.

We buzzed the periphery on plastic,
moved in and out of the shadows
spending nickels on the corner jesters,
who stroked their banjos with fingerless gloves.

Their cracked fingertips were stained yellow,
mouths displayed racks of missing teeth,
snake eyes winked under reptilian lids
while blessings spewed forth.

I looked at the leader
who sang like Lennon
and wondered,
man what are you doing here
reincarnated.

You like it quick,
hot & thick,
high & hard.
You spontaneous little devil,
you're going to make me combust,
fill your holy lair
with torrents
of my lava flow.
And you know
all about
the fall,
you know
I would crawl
to lick your burning fire.

She lay in rapture,
panting.
A coy
dreamy,
satisfied smile
painted her lips,
her tips were granite.
A sheen of salinity coated her body
like fine Welsh silver flake
& I licked every crevice
of her shapely form,
coaxed every delicious flavor
I could find,
listening to her screaming
& aching for more.

It was kind of crazy,
Army guys listening
to Nena & her red luft balloons,
Kim Wilde’s American Kids,
a bit of Madonna Lucky Star and
Lauper’s girls just wanting to have some fun.
Man o’ man,
we danced our drunk ***** off
with all them pretty little lasses.
And like we gave a flying ****,
for in a moment’s notice,
we might have been
Airborne,
hoooooaaaaah.

I've gained ten pounds
in the past thirty minutes
just watching the tube.
Pizza Hut, Taco Bell,
Denny's, Burger King,
Wendy's, Chick-Fil-A
& Coca Cola have
fattened me up
clairvoyantly.
My appetite is raging,
gonna hit the 'fridge
and eat all my leftovers,
consume 2000 more
calories than I need too.
Geez, the power of media!

Thai smoke swirled,
uncoiling snakes
reaching into Heaven,
lungs exploding,
ecstasy released.

Harmony we found,
us herbal warriors,
brilliant,
enlightened smiles,
high-fives all around.

We sped in slow motion
across the emerald sea,
only to be stopped
by a jailbreak
blaring
so loudly
on FM radio.

It was silly,
us on the bridge,
******,
bewildered,
looking around
as others drove by
sober.

We laughed till
our buzz blew away
with the fading traffic.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMFYs3gfgis

Time is precious,
so short
when you're
on the road
squeezing
poetic snippets
between boring meetings
with non-poets
who drink designer coffees
& wear Armani.

It drives me bananas.

She lies naked,
spread eagle
inside the circle,
glittering
in the candlelight.

Whispering
ancient-incantations
& chanting her desires,
she offers herself up,
guides me
with her circular
fingers.

And in a heightened
state of consciousness,
I awaken,
crazy with lust.

Unable to fight her,
I grip myself
imagining her treasures,
O what pleasure!

I feel her wizardry
with rapid movements,
am blown away
into another dimension,
hexed by her charms.

O my sweet sorceress,
how quickly
I succumb
to your magical ways,
so overcome
by your pixie dust!

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

The ground rumbles
under the weight of steel,
churning relentlessly
onward through the pitch
as the lone whistle
trails into the night,
echoing loneliness.

I lie awake contemplating
how the conductor looks crying
so early in the morning,
twisting down the tracks
keeping insomniacs awake
with his constant
rolling thunder.

And I bet with myself
the rushing wind
cools his tears.

Ever have one those full moon days
where it feels like Mars
is in major retrograde,
Jupiter might be imploding,
the sun is spinning backwards?

It’s like everybody you run into
is a super freak.
They don’t seem normal,
seem tweaked out
on something really bad,
they just ain’t right.

Those are the days
when I want to stay home,
brew up some of
the good herbal green stuff,
kick my feet up,
mediate about love &
how grateful I am
for my own life!

There's something **** about Texas.
I'm not sure if it's because
of the rhyming sound it has
or if it's just the letters
constructed in a unique way,
they kinda roll off the tongue.
Maybe, it's the people?

I can tell you it's a big state,
it has rolling plains
as far as the eye can see.
Real cowboys roam
all over the place,
they play with beef cattle,
drive them north
from the Mexican border
to the processing plants.

The cute girls there are tough,
it's 'cause of the drovers.
And though
they might act rough,
I've been told they blossom
pretty, like yellow roses
& are as abundant
as the tumbleweeds,
swirling in the western winds.

There's something **** about Texas.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIRL_iu3eQM

Who made them valedictorian,
those keepers of the word-banks,
more concerned with righteousness
than with the art
we oh so love,
pointing fingers
with a million pointing back.

And we,
we keepers of the faith,
writing words,
writing lines,
writing stanzas or not,
scribbling & scrawling
bits & pieces
of our fervent-hearts,
exposing ourselves
to the masses,
truly naked
for all ages,
for an eternity of readers,
feeding our souls
for those perusers
who might want to know
or forgot
what it is like
to live (again).

Like I f'ng said.
who made them valedictorian,
them f'ing poetry police.

He gets all the pretty babes,
owns all the cool gadgets.
Some say he's a magician,
but I say he's much
more than that.

He's very slick,
so in tune with his spy-side,
he can easily handle
Paris traffic at rush hour,
knows all about
diabolical-power
& how to stop it.

His smooth-ride cruises fast
in turbo overdrive,
buzzes down the road
like a well-tuned beehive.
All the cool tunes play
along with him &
he likes his things
shaken not stirred.
Roulette, no trouble,
he'll burst the bank bubble.
O that sweet little
cherry-blued PPK!
Hey now, pow pow,
he knows the endgame,
how to kick some
cloak-and-dagger ***
up & down the street.

That's why,
I want to be James Bond,
knock the ladies & the thugs
right off their feet!

The trail stretched serpentine
above the azure lake
with the rising sun
beginning to peek
just above the horizon.
In that beautiful place,
I walked along
in solitude
with my heavy pack
surrounded
by fields
of endless beans.
And in the early mist,
two tiny
smiling children,
silent,
swiftly
passed me
with overflowing baskets,
destined
for the market,
and you,
and me.

It was a night of simple frolicking,
we ate worms & danced
Grand Funk,
choo-chooed on tequila.

The room swirled,
I was the engine,
you the coal-car
fed me the vibes,
as we circled,
spinning serpentine
through the juiced-crowd
of Don Armando revelers.

We escaped for fresh air,
stole a quick swim
under the entire universe,
embraced like drunken-lovers.

I traced your face with warm kisses,
felt your body pressed
into mine like a glove.
The stars above
twinkled brighter,
you did not fight
my entry nor your resolve,
as we evolved into a tidal wave.
I bled my soul into you,
you saved every drop.

Later, we skinny-dipped
in the shower-bank,
listening to the others
washing away their own salt,
playing & moaning,
savoring their own souls &
collecting drops.

Simpson had been a mechanic by trade
back home
& out here on the arid range,
he dismantled homemade bombs.
On that one particular sunny day,
one dismantled him.
We saw him disappear
in a pink cloud,
hear a loud boom &
once the smoke cleared,
the medics
picked him up
in several pieces.
It took them three body bags.

They are down by the seaside
making preparations
for my final departure.
Those brave souls,
brother & sister odists,
who understand such things,
are the true testaments of honor.
I see them piling
my grave offerings,
making their sacrifices.
For soon,
I will become
but a distant memory,
I will join the sacred gods,
those humble goddesses,
in the Heavens
& fall back a shooting star.
Remember me.

A spiderweb cracks the sky
in oranges and reds
as I inhale deeply
the mountain mist,
I insist this place is Heaven.
Twenty minutes ago
the singing began
in earnest,
echoing off the white oaks,
those twisted hickories.
And in a frenzy,
Goldfinches
crack sunflower seeds
by the pound.
Oh the wonderful sound!
I love this place,
nestled near
the West Fork
of Wolf Creek.

I am a true lover
& come from a long line
of traditionalists,
believers of the leaf-faith.

I live in their spirit
day & night,
from Yunnan
where the gold is harvested,
down to Kenya I travel,
then to Sri Lankan rainforests,
to sip the Sinharaja black brew.

I visit the czars with Kusmi,
stay with Earl Grey a bit
on those misty eves
& on some chilly days,
I relish a nice
mysterious Chai with spice.

O yes, you dear fellow imbibers,
try some Golden Monkey
& a hit of Lapsang Souchong,
PG Tips & a hot cup of Sencha Uji.
It'll certainly hit the spot,
tonight.

And at the rising
of the morning star,
tomorrow,
gently down Red Moon.

I enjoyed the work I did,
'cause those bearded-guys
were some serious *******,
constructing high explosives
& placing them near roadsides,
then detonating them
for maximum carnage,
to spill some serious blood.

Oh how I loved working at night,
especially those overcast nights
where I drew beads
with nightvision
& did some exploding of my own,
busted a lot of skulls.

Ya see, I could be a serious *******,
too.
And I was serious,
as serious as cancer.
I was the consummate
silent killer,
so effective,
they called me
"Mister Pathogen **"
& death I did spread.

Evil does not exist in the sun,
nor lie in desert sands.
It seems they
float through space
without a shred of malintent,
survive on their own.

And are diabolical-thoughts
hatched on the depths
of the ocean floor,
do snow leopards tell lies,
does the moon carry a grudge?
Have you ever seen a dung beetle
start a crusade in the name
of the Insect God?

It seems the pagans
may have opened
doors to the natural order
without guilt & shame.

Hold onto my hips
& use your magic
on me witchy woman.
Go ahead,
tickle my spine
with a vulture feather
& draw runes
all over my naked body.
Stab my doll
with pins
& throw dried corn
into the wind.
I want to be
a slave
to your spells,
any of them,
it doesn't really matter,
'cause you're so fine
& I want to die
in your black charms.

They pick melons
in green vined-fields
as far as the eye can see
because no one else will do it.
And some eating melon,
think life is easy.
I pass no judgment,
only excrement,
spitting seeds.

Maybe
I have sinned,
but I'm a fallen archangel,
aren't
I darling?

I lie
in fields of bamboo
shooting up around me.
My steel is tempered,
so hot for you,
it rises majestically.
My heart sizzles
with the heat
of dragon fire.
You inspire
my every move.
And under a crescent moon,
Heaven sent you to me
to croon over,
to spill my warm milk.

I love the sounds we make,
me behind you
up against the wall
spread-eagle
playing
sensuous
peek-a-boo
& getting lost
in the moment.

I want to walk
in deep space,
pull your tether
& play bumper cars
with you
under the stars
before the sun rises.

I want to engage in
manual manipulation
with you,
spin G's around the moon
& whistle rocket man tunes
while knocking your
sweet spacesuit boots.

I want to experience reentry
with you,
float on triple parachutes
& blast-off
again & again
onto your soft pad.

I’d spent months
working on the vector-calculations,
checking, verifying, rechecking, rechecking, rechecking
in a circular-order, a daily ritual,
infecting my mind with worry.

Such things were important,
so very critical for mission success.
A careless subtraction,
a meaningless missed-detail,
one minor error in the numbers
and my chances went up astronomically.
The chances I would not make it back,
not make it back to see all those nice things
going on down on the surface.

Strange, how your mind can play tricks on you up here,
this lonely place where dreams are made
& lost. I know she’ll be sorry when she finds out
about my mistake, but things
should have been better between us.

Sadly, they weren’t.

I've been staggering
for as long
as I can remember,
crawling through the mire
of heartbreak & troubles,
****** up on living,
intoxicated by the sun,
I binge on the moon,
get hung up on galaxies & stars.

I've driven fast cars & junkers,
hungered for ***,
received texts from
the heads of state
& poor white trash.
I get my fixes from bullfrogs
& leprechauns,
these shivers come
from delivered pizza,
I sweat bullets
watching flowers grow.
When I stare at ant piles
my mind goes blank,
get dt's
when I can't wish,
dream upon a star
or two or three.

If you really knew me,
you'd say I was a ******,
a ******* lover of life,
addicted to the world,
a bohemian flunkie,
rejected by the status quo,
but you don't know me,
so shush up.

Under the burning sun
& on endless dunes,
I went from mirage to mirage,
rode this camel's **** all night
long to get to your sweet oasis.

And there,
I found you lying
in beautiful naked splendor,
cockleshells hung from
your thick raven-hair,
frankincense & myrrh burned.

I melted in your embrace,
kissed your lady-magic
& died in the gaze
of your amber eyes.

Under the burning sun
& on endless dunes,
I went from mirage to mirage,
rode this camel's **** all night
long to get to your sweet oasis.

There was something
wild about her feet,
something that really
drove you crazy.
She'd spend hours
painting them up,
a different shade
for each day of the week.
I mean each toe was beautiful,
a real work of art,
picture perfect
& when she hid
all of them
below the bubbles,
things really got hot
& I mean hot.
You'd forget about everything
with your head,
not in the clouds,
but underwater
& not ******* air,
but her beautiful,
her beautiful
painted toes.

Grey skies stretch
across the horizon
with no spot of blue.

Here I am left here
on this barren island
& all I can think of is you.

I can smell you in the gale,
you were a tempest,
a force of nature
& I miss you
watching the rain.

She found herself
up against the wall,
spread eagle,
so regal
in her ******.

Water droplets cascaded
her soft shoulders
& she rode
two digits
as if it were
her last shower.

The power
she generated
was more than
she could take
& releasing alone,
she cried my name
to the tune
of her shuddering.

I started my healthy diet
just last week.
Was going
to incorporate it
with a daily dose
of Ashtanga & Kundalini.

And wouldn’t you know it,
I pull an intercostal
the very first day
of a new routine.

Now, I’m laid up
with sore ribs, full of fish
& smelling like menthol.

I remember
the way it used to be.
Your pretty face so delighted,
precious-eyes tightly shut,
biting knuckles,
sighs of satisfaction,
candy-tips displaying
sheer excitement.

Spreading soft-pink,
you relished in my handiwork,
gushed your sentiments,
my tongue hidden deep
in delicious-oblivion.

I remember
the way it used to be,
you and me.

You can walk on the sun,
dance in a hurricane,
eat pickled pig's feet,
smoke rolled banana leaves,
**** ether,
camp out on Pluto for all I care,
I just want to be next to you.

Out here,
out here on the tundra,
snow whispers.

It blows along,
crawls above the ice pack
under the aurora
& pelts me
like cold tiny needles.

It speaks in silent tones,
reminding me of this fight,
then trails away
quickly
into the frozen night.

The purest stranger
in my life
has jolted me
with a million volts
of sheer-excitement.

I crave the electric-feeling
she sends through
my entire body.
I am supercharged
at the very thought
of creating static-friction
with her between the sheets.

I will be her dynamo,
will spin her turbines
like she's never felt before.
She will buzz with radioactivity,
enter another dimension,
scream for more energy
as I split her atoms
with ****-fushion.

There's something
totally magnetic,
extremely attractive  
about starting a new
sensuous-reaction
with a total stranger,
especially her.

So, you want a juicy-kiss,
a real ****-bear-hug,
something to ruffle your feathers,
make you melt nuclear on the spot!?

And what will you give me in return?
The same, these instant space pheromones,
the destruction of the physical dating scene,
your ******* bunched in a ***,
even more frustration.

Please sweet darling, give them to me.....!

She belted out
the edgy
slick-vocals,
called them,
said you would see,
morning
maniac music.

Grace exploded,
covered the gray-skies
with a kaleidoscope of love,
the vibe was simply magical,
everybody wanted somebody.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_gg6JNLtXI

I'm in 5A again,
but this time
it's a bigger plane.

But,
I'm 4 hours behind,
'cause my first connection
was canceled,
they said
it was a mechanical
issue.
Now,
I'm on board &
ready for takeoff.

Thank God,
I'm leaving that
soulless lounge behind,
better safe than sorry.