It's crazy how sometimes
we'd lay there forever
gathering intel.
The bad guys
would move around
as if they owned the place,
scurrying to and fro,
moving ordnance,
an RPG or two,
lots of AK's.
Most of the time
when we saw them like that,
we'd bag them in an airstrike.
Game over.
Camo works.

I crossed over the river
wanting to learn
about the Orphic bag of tricks
& realized I had become
part of the underworld.

And fallen under
the spell of Hypnos,
I watched Psyche
get her first kiss
& come alive
by tender-magic.

Go ahead pilgrim,
go ahead,
make love
to the horse
I rode in on.
You will like the way she bucks,
how her stained saddle rides,
the feel of her flesh
against your taut thighs.

I will never forget
our crossing near El Paso.
Or the time
she reared up
in Amarillo.
Tucson sure fascinated
them bandits
chasing us
for gold.

We rode like demons
constantly
through the desert,
tracing
the tail of the moon
on petroglyphs.

And she knows,
she knows deep inside
her wholesome *****,
she will never forget,
she will never forget
her lonesome rider.

This wearied lonesome rider
has finally,
has finally come home.

Witches and llamas
dark cobble ****** streets winding
blank vacant eyes stare

You have the prettiest
eyes in the world Darling,
they make me melt,
I get overcome
when you look at me.
I love it when you gaze
deeply into my own,
because eye-contact with you
is everything,
especially
when you
swallow
my pride
and feel joy.

I am not an expert
on anything,
especially prose.
I write in free flow,
my rows are all uneven,
it's the way my mind thinks,
how my tongue gets twisted,
clamouring & stammering
to find the right words,
to set my record straight.
Like I said,
I am not an expert on anything,
I just try to spell it like it is.

The moon glared above,
exposed solid ice
beneath headlamp-glow.

Winds whipped across the wall,
freezing warm breath-vapor
onto my stinging-face.

Chinks of my axe echoed
against the moraine,
crampons etched
my signature behind.

Slowly I moved up
into the pitch-void,
toward the twinkling stars.

Tethered
to my kindred-spirits,
together we found truth
on the summit-push.

I wonder
what the hell it must
have been like when
the stormtroopers came.
Surely it wasn't like
a visit from the relatives,
they had schedules to keep,
Star of David passes to hand out
for the crowded overland train trek
to the gas showers or the ovens,
no choice given.

And we think things are tough,
worried about the color of our socks
& writing poetry.

My head is buzzing loud
Six hours are missing, gone
Weird triangle scar

The dude was a serious ******.
he trained his monkey
to do criminal things.
Sometimes they'd shake it,
other times swallow.
That simian even did some
risky breaking and entering.
You could say he worked
hard for his money,
to buy his junk.

Those dudes hung out under the streetlight on Fridays and Saturdays.
Between the four of them,
there were twenty-one tattoos,
ranging from Celtic tribal
to devils & one broken heart.
They'd trade stories
about love & hate,
cheap dates &
high maintenance girls.
Every now and then,
one would get lucky & fall in love.
But they always came back.
I've never been sure
if they were major ****-ups
or just sentimental,
missed the group.

There were dogwood blossoms
here once,
near the old court house
& out here,
out here
on the run,
the supplies never came,
that's when
the blooming stopped,
we're told.

I know I have
my share of problems
& it doesn't get any easier
not being able
to wrap your arms around me,
to pull my fingers
through your nice hair.

You were always
a natural high for me,
rock steady,
trustworthy,
my healthy dose of lust.

I trust you are well
& will always wish you
the best
in everything that you do,
even if
or if
you never
think about me, too.

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.

I shot you
in my wildest dreams
again last night.

Over & over,
I put you in my crosshairs,
aimed straight on you
& drew a bead.

Then switching to a rapid fire mode,
I unloaded everything I had
on fully automatic,
dropped you
every which way but loose.

Ratta-tat-tat,
kapow, kapow,
ratta-tat-tat,
that's where it's at!

And you,
playing the perfect victim,
lay beautifully sprawled out,
relishing in each & every wound,
covered with my flood.

It was extreme,
so romantic,
a wonderfully ******,
sensuous scene,
and it made my blood boil,
left me dreaming for more
hot, straight-shooting.

Lock and load!

Hurry up Darling
& shut the door!

There's something soothing
about being high,
visiting the crags,
scaling the moraines,
eating tuna
above the cloud-deck.

When you're standing there,
above the valleys
& goggled,
it's like flying
with you feet on the ground.

The only sound is your breath
& the jet stream
passing by you.

It's a beautiful combination,
a melody,
a trance,
unfamiliar to flatlanders.

Sgt. Jack came back
from overseas
and he didn’t give one.
He’d sit outside his backdoor
for hours popping caps,
swilling cheap beer,
smoking Camels
with his rifle at the ready nearby,
a forty-five in his belt.

He’d yell at his dog constantly,
expecting it to respond
in a friendly manner,
but the rocks
he had thrown at it
over time
had spooked it
into a submissive role.

He never said much,
just stared,
stared with wild blood-shot eyes
that darted to and fro into space.
He’d nervously look at the horizon
as if something was always about to happen.
His favorite line was,
“Lock and loaded, let’s move.”
And when a car would backfire,
he’d scream, “Incoming!”

His wife left him for his best friend,
his kids never came back around,
and his dog died without him moving a muscle.
The ****** thing decomposed
right out in the middle of his backyard.
I guess he was used to
the sweet smell of death.

O Sweet Thief,
let's play
our fun game of
cop and robber.
So Miss Crook,
stand up straight there,
face against the wall
and spread 'em
wide.
I'm going to frisk
you deeply,
ever so slowly
for my heart,
the one you stole,
have hidden inside.

You found my magic spot
you Sweet Witch.
On the underside,
with your lips & tongue,
you invented
a brand new
love spell
& stole my heart
for all eternity.

I don’t need a maid,
I don’t really care
if my bed’s unmade.
Home cooking is tasty & nice,
but take-out’s rather nice,
it’ll suffice from time to time.

I need a lady-child,
someone who loves cut flowers,
wears them & pretty ribbons
in her flowing hair.
I need a real woman,
not scared
to break a nail,
someone who can hike trails,
listen to my tales.

I want a kama-sutra lover,
someone not scared,
unafraid to discover
deeper meanings with me.
I pray for that special-angel,
someone who will come to me
from above,
a sweet turtle-dove,
full of genuine love.

It was another retrieval-order,
he’d been missing forty-eight hours,
tracker beams calculated his
last known whereabouts
in the Tharsis quadrangle.

I didn’t relish this mission,
red dust had been swirling for days
& the winds were picking up speed,
measured at 100 m.p.h.
It was crazy for Snyder
to have gone out in the first place.
I remembered his friendly face,
his jovial demeanor & gracious smile.
I felt sad knowing I’d never seen him again.
He was one of the hardest workers.

All the company could ever talk about
were profits, profits & even more profits.
We all knew the risks,
it went with the territory.
Out here on the perimeter,
on the edge of tomorrow,
we lived our lives three-dimensionally,
another day, another dollar, another ***** shirt.
It was the same **** here
as those days we had
back on good ‘ole planet Earth,
working for greed.

Strudel and homebrew
Lying on the Banks of the Rhine
Learning bauchnabel

I love asparagus
& her cousins,
garlic & onions.
I want to lie in a bed with them,
rub them all over me,
roll in the shoots,
chomp cloves
& peel some layers
for an eternity.

Jimmy was just plain right,
he did nothing wrong,
he kicked political correctness
in the ***,
said it was a sad day
when people couldn't talk about
religion or politics or pull a race card.

We called him Popeye,
he said he was what he is,
he was the glue of the platoon.
He gave no apologies,
said people could stick it
where the sun didn't shine
if they didn't like what he said.

Seems strange now,
that's the guy I'd want with me
if the apocalypse came.
He was no sniveler
seeking pity.
He was real.
Not a crying faker.
He disappeared in Colombia,
said he was going down
to check out the coffee,
but I have my doubts.
I miss him.

Of course there's
always
the other side
of the things
we so adore.

O My Sweet Honey,
knows just what to do,
how to pleasure me
even more.

I stand tall
straight above her,
regal & rigid.

And in our naked-splendor,
she kneels in mock-reverence,
looking up bright-eyed,
I see her gorgeous tail.
It takes my breath away,
playing a god like this.

Her firm-warm magnificent-grip
begins a sensual-rhythm
as she engulfs my tip
with her raw-moistness.

Her flick of wondrous-tongue,
so gentle, so kind,
reveals to me
her true beauty,
her inner
sensual-tenderness.

O My Dear Lady,
I do crave,
this dreamy-state
she takes me to,
if she only knew.

O My Dear Love,
she is indeed
an angel from above,
her fine-motions
do save me
from any sheer folly.
I want her, I need her,
I will seed her with
my almighty love.

With heightened friction
& such lovely lips,
she takes me to nirvana.

My knees grow weak as
I grip her thick-hair,
stare lovingly
into her pretty-face
causing such hot-commotion.

And in my heated-fervor,
I shoot & shoot & shoot
do flow
my sticky-potion deep
into her wanton parted-lips,
I adorn her loveliness
with my gladness.

Having reached
our place of fiery-ecstasy,
she stands to kiss me,
softly whispers,
"Baby do you want me
to do it some more?"

And why of course,
she knows my answer.
I love to romance her,
'cause her interest in me,
all of me,
unconditionally,
is the reason
she's the one I so adore
& this stellar-act,
just one more hot-reason,
I want her so much more!

People don't believe the things I write,
but last night things were different.
Seriously folks,
I was abducted by some beings
in a metallic spacecraft
and given a grand tour of the solar system.
You should see what's behind the sun
or behind the pretty moon.
Oh, we had so much fun!
But that's only half the story
& now I gotta give it a rest.
They told me that next time,
they're gonna show me
the entire universe.
Nope, I'm not a crazy loon,
just an honest insane writer.

Lee seems like he’s always
in a dream state,
he moves in slomo
& constantly has a smile
on his boyish-face.
Yesterday he told me
his most recent stuff
smelled,
tasted like bubblegum.
He said he loves to chew,
smoke
the sticky stuff,
buds that is.

We rode through the spectators,
pedaling our mountain bikes
as if on a sacred mission.
The pink Tinkerbell wings
flapped furiously on our backs,
leaving glitter in the wind behind us.

Our radios squelched,
screamed,
barked requests
as we twisted & turned,
faced the cool breeze
that splattered raindrops
on our grinning faces.

Of course, our tatted left arms
sported colorful tigers & rainbows,
suns & moons.
But despite our reputations
as gangland members,
all we could hear was,
"Here come the fairies!"
emanating from
the laughing crowd
of disbelieving onlookers.

I'm going to start a trend when I get back home,
gonna need a Vespa and a beret and bigger *****
to scoot around the drivers back there.
They don't care about nobody but themselves.
But maybe I can change the world
or at least some nasty driving habits
with my new persona,
it's worth a try anyways,
gonna play like a madman.

If I was a droid,
life wouldn't feel the same.
I'd see the world through holograms,
kiss cold-lips, feel just a bit of heat in my LED.
My joints would be motorized-gears, not sinew.

But would I even have the emotion to want to kiss,
any desire to engage in such physical contact?
There would be no need for any of that.
Everything would be just useless-information.
There would be no warmth from the sun
on my Teflon skin, no ***-***** to act
on my lack of inhibitions,
smell would mean nothing.

So I guess,
if I were a droid,
I'd be bored to death &
not living, just existing
in a body containing
diodes & transistors,
hard drives & resistors.

I'd be integrated, solid-state,
driving a data-bus to nowhere,
doomed to misery,
a pathetic, an unfeeling state,
without a real date.

I want to break loose with hell,
roll like a tumbleweed
across the endless plains,
blow through nameless towns,
become a sweeping rain.

I want to fall in love with
the Queen of Hearts,
bedroll with faithless tarts,
shoot lead lightning from
my itchy fingertips
& rustle cattle.

I want to live
my life on the run,
ride fast
like the wind
on a trusty steed,
hold up banks & rob trains,
guzzle red-eye whiskey
to **** my pain
& not end up etched
on an oaken tombstone,
somewhere unknown,
decaying under
the prairie sun.

He hears their  chuckling
every now and then
above the alpine,
in a place where
none of them truly belonged.
But the sacred saw them worthy,
giving them borrowed time
to etch their memories
on the stone age frost.

Fear gave them such
sweet inspiration,
those precious moments
to leave their speedy footprints
in the endless drifts,
filling crevasses,
that disappeared
forever
in the freezing gales.

They have all dispersed
to different parts of the globe,
each one knowing
the beauty of the mountain,
in its raw form
& never forgetting
their laughter
they once had
on the lip of her ice
kissing pain.
Amen.

I had finally decided
I was going to start smoking tomorrow,
it seemed like a good time to start something new.
I did my research and I knew
I was going to go *******,
I was going to become a Marlboro Man.
Yeah baby, I was going to
go for the gusto, eat the whole enchilada.
That's just my style,
never half-throttle,
always 110%.


So I was chilling out
getting ready for tthe big day,
had flipped on the tube and
wouldn't you know it,
the first thing I watch
is a ****** commercial
of a guy taking a shower
covering
a hole in his neck.

Like, how's a guy supposed
to wash his hair
with a hole in his neck?

That's why I hate TV,
especially the commercials.
I was really looking forward
to becoming a smoker.
Now, there's no way in hell
I'm gonna do it,
I gotta keep my hair clean!

I am more
than equipped
to handle
my indiscretions,
but I'm soooooo much more
than a soother
for internal heat-rash.

Tho' I could have fooled myself,
I think I have a brain.
I know I have
a full set if teeth.

Lord knows,
I've had my own
share of grief
loving pain.

The second I imbibed
her,
I knew she had me.
It always happened
that way.
That lovely warm-rush
in my head
and her sweet kisses
on my lips,
traveling
down
my throat,
deep
to my heart.
She brought me
to my knees.

Flowering beauties
Ochaya’s on Gion Streets
Soothing sweet maikos

I wish I could run
my fingers through your hair,
smell your sweet precious skin,
kiss your honey lips,
feel myself buried
in your delicious thoughts.

I close my eyes,
squeezing them tightly
& my mind visualizes
you here with me
here in my bed,
where I lie alone
naked & dreaming.

You want to show me
some real love,
then please,
lover of the poetic-art,
**** on my words,
keep a tight grip
on my concepts,
don't fight me,
move with my flow,
*******
with more theory,
swallow all of my stories,
don't miss a drop
& return for more.

I want you reader,
I want you really bad,
I want you to know,
it means a lot to me
you see,
your reading-actions
make me fiery-hot,
I write harder,
harder & harder.

We spent cartridges
like honeydew wine water,
they flowed in all directions
as we tormed the ramparts,
spilling destruction with
concentrated-fire.

Split second decisions
left us unable to think,
to think about the color of our socks,
what coffee flavor intrigued us,
or how we wore our hair.

All we cared about
was one more day
above ground,
it was survival of
the fittest,
not who was neatly-dressed.

O Darling,
let me configure your world
with my saucy liberties.
Let me paint you a picture
of what you may be lacking.
Let me describe in
cryptic sensual-detail
some escapades you may like.

'Cause in doing so,
you allow me the privilege
to display my talents,
the sensuous-things
I've so desperately been
in need of,
yearn for &
dream about.

You are My Dear,
a Precious Sweet-Angel,
for your allowances
given to me.

He lay exhausted under
the brilliant stars of Heaven,
searched them with
a faraway look
in his raven eyes,
hoping he would see
his lady again.

He traced his lips
with his tired-fingers,
imagining them hers.
Relishing the thought,
he burned with fire,
remembered her tender kisses,
the beating of her fervent heart,
the fragrance of her sweet skin,
the taste of her honey-breath.

Days of brutal-fighting
had depleted the legion,
many brave warriors
would not return home.
It was a time for reflection,
a chance for silent-prayer,
to pay reverence for
being spared.

As he drifted in and out
of conciousness,
he wondered if
she were tracing
her own lips
with his fingers
in her mind,
desired him still.
Good Lord,
he missed her.

Trembling,
he feared the worse,
as tears poured,
drifted over his cheeks,
he wanted home so badly,
he could taste it in his tears.

Everywhere we went,
we rode shotgun,
carried one too.

We were home wreckers,
housebreakers,
misfits riding on the edge.

We came with sledgehammers,
battering rams, metal-knuckles,
some disappeared for interrogation.

You should have seen the head splitter,
he went back to the world,
they turned him loose again
into the general population.

Bright-eyed bushy-tailed bucks,
we forged into no man's land,
miles & miles of golden desert sand
was the mainstay of that virtual wasteland.

A traditional-home of the kingdoms,
warlords counting their money,
that **** wasn't funny.

I never laugh at horror stories
or disbelieve fairy tales,
they might be real.

Awwwww Baby,
we're not psychos,
they just don't know you.
As a matter of fact,
they don't know me either.
So you go girl,
drop to your knees on me,
impale yourself,
bone-grinder,
pinch your hardened sensitivities.
Take me there,
take me to that special place,
make me
scream hallelujah.
We're not lunatics Darling,
I just want to fill
your delicious void,
you sweet lovely humanoid.

Ice-winds cut like knives
Wire seems a crazy trapeze
You just sit cawing

Sometimes,
it was so quiet
walking point
on patrol,
all you could hear
was the
occasional
shooting star,
guitars
screaming
in my head.

Splashed milk coated the pitched skies,
millions of galaxies arrayed
in glorious splendor
spun above our campfire.

We watched glowing embers
swirling up into infinity
& we spoke about the universe,
joked about aliens & such.

And with the viewing
of ancient-lines the following day,
we realized some things
may be real
& no laughing matter.

It's amazing the things
we can discuss under
the sacred heavens,
full of life,
some perhaps,
even extra-terrestrial.

Thank you for keeping
the sandman at bay
& bringing on the headache,
making me alert & irritable,
giving me heart palpitations
without real love,
just the bitterness
of your roasted bean.

Strange, how
when I think of you,
I think of pomegranates,
I think of raging streams
& pistachio ice cream
& the planets.

I think of
your malachite eyes
& whiskey,
& how you made
me feel in Manaus,
smoking twisties.

Yesterday,
at 3:31 in the morning,
I was thinking about
your firm thighs
& your tender touch
& the reasons why
I cry.

But mostly,
I think I think
too much.

I met a carny yesterday,
said he just got back from
a long stay at Guantanamo Bay,
that water-boarding didn't hurt
as long they used warm water.

That guy was a card,
but I wasn't buying
what he told me,
I ain't no mark.

I guess it was old fashioned
to walk along the shore
whispering
above the rising tides,
squeezing hands
& riding the waves
of endless passions.

I guess it was old fashioned
to hold your chin like that
& to kiss you so tenderly.

But it wasn't my fault
your knees grew weak
& you face planted in the surf,
bloodying your cute turned up nose.

I guess it was old fashioned
to offer you my clean shirt,
to blurt out I love you
after you had embarrassed
the hell out of yourself.

And I guess it was old fashioned
to apologize for my snickering
when I realized you might
have really gotten hurt.

But I guess I'm just old fashioned
to really care,
to really believe in love
& girls who have weak knees
& do face plants in the surf.