Friction and kisses
Hot intimate positions
Primordial flow

Your scent is Heavenly darling,
the rarest of fragrances,
it drives to the brink.

Smother me in it,
I want to drink
your
sweet-nectar,
swallow you
whole.

You know what you do to me....

Her lady-grip on me is alluring,
it really gets my attention
& makes me stand there, too.
She has the muscle control
of a professional bodybuilder,
can manipulate me
with her flexing
& when she heats up,
it's all I can do
to hold myself inside.
If she'd let me,
if she only knew,
I could glide in her forever.

N'awlins babe with
a pretty flower-tat,
seared tuna & sesame,
a dab of wasabi,
club soda & lime,
lily pads & gators.
That's where it's at,
my happy hour
down here,
somewhere.

Narrow streets confuse
gunpowder and mint infuse
senses to the muse

I wanted to quit,
but I love
the taste of nicotine
on her pretty full lips.
I'm addicted to kissing her
(cigarettes)
now,
de facto.

It's weird how **** changes.
I remember all them young dudes,
they worked a crowd
like the Flatbush mafia,
they didn't drive hummers,
they demanded them
& when they didn't get their way,
they clicked their ******* fingers
to shake loose hell.

Even the cops were scared of them,
but not Molly,
she wore an original tattoo,
people wonder
what happened to her.
Some say
she became a lizard queen
and joined Jim.
I guess anything is possible.

There is no way to describe
the part
of the initial disappearance
other than to say
it's breathless
watching my reemergence,
glistening with you like that,
repeated
again
&
again
& again
& again
to fruition,
the exploding of our raw senses.

I sit on that bench,
surrounded by rotting wood
& listening to the warblers.
But despite being near them,
I find no comfort here.
For my lost loved ones
were more than fond memories,
these mounds of dirt.

In the distance I hear them barking
to me,
calling me.

The sacred ones
spin
circular,
tethered
to the womb
of the Mother,
pierced
forever.

See the sacred clowns
on the edge of tomorrow,
they sip sage tea.

I hear the winds,
I hear the winds
across
the great plains,
blowing
from the four.

The streets were not as mean as history
said they would be,
especially after a night out
at the bier haus,
where we filled our grosse steins
with litres of hops
& barley
& natural carbonation.
It really wasn't a nation full of crazies,
but rather
one full of serious frunken fun
& frolicking amoungst the bauchnabels
with liebe.

That **** warm feeling with her
can take you by surprise,
her aura invigorates,
it's an immediate rush.

I imagine her
lying next to me,
lying in full naked-splendor,
her sensual eyes locked on mine
& a coy smile biting her lower lip.

With quickened breathing,
I shake with anticipation
just to kiss her delicate mouth.
I inhale her kisses & immediately
a stirring below speeds up our intimacies.

My mouth travels over her luscious body,
kissing & nibbling, tasting her skin,
inhaling her flowery fragrances
all the way own to nest my face
on top of her bouquet.

Her taste is primordial,
so raw & delicious.
I love to watch her reactions
as I delicately sift her swollen folds
with my wanton hard-tongue,
Her puffed peaks stand up straight
as she floods in waves.

My moving fingers
spread her beauty
to reveal her excitement,
juicy-love covers my face.
She demands the very best
& I deliver it to her.

Methodical & deep,
she keeps the rythym steady,
grinding herself against me
to take all of me.

And when we reach our crescendo,
she whispers my name
as she milks each spasm.

There is nothing on Earth,
no any words that exist
in any language,
to describe
these loving imaginations,
but at least I tried.

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.
:)

We killed a whole
herd of goats once
just to bag one bad guy.

The supersonic fighter
dropped a million dollars worth
of destructive-ordinance
to chalk up
another number
on the terrorist
most wanted list.

Sadly,
with all the goat blood trails
and splattered guts,
we never could
confirm the ****.

Even on the telephone,
it's electric,
we're hot,
sizzling,
not diametric.

The sound of your breath,
your soft whispers,
the frantic nature of your commands
& you screaming,
telling me of curled toes,
makes one lose himself
so sweetly
& completely
in the long distance wiring.

There was a time when we wanted to change the world,
my mates & me, we were star struck
bright-eyed dreamer-lovers,
we never took no for an answer.

But now Ronnie & Greg are gone,
we lost Ross somewhere in the Midwest,
Teri died in the bottle, Cassie too.

I heard the IRA is still hiring recruits, but
I’m not sure how much fight I’ve got left,
it seems it evaporated with Louise.
The world has definitely changed.

I think I will
zip line across the creek,
there are some people over there
I'd like to meet.
I smell patchouli
& hear music,
voices giggling
& I think I see
flowers
in their hair
& they're covered with mud.
Surely they are
descendents
of primordial peoples,
look at those dreadlocks
& luscious curves,
young boys
with
their
pretty girls.

Where were they
when we needed them the most.
The fat smiling holy man
laughing at the long haired freak
spouting proverbs
and prophesies.
And you,
with your words about infidels,
killing in the name
of the Almighty,
glorious leader of the tribes.
You say walk on unwrinkled rice paper
and you will be enlightened.
Hog wash.
None of you stepped in
to stop a single firefight,
the spilling of human blood.
Do you really exist,
you irreverent blasphemers
with your own ****** hands,
liars of the true faith.
Repent.

Half the world slept below me
as I trudged up
the spine of majesty,
a massive stone sentinel resting
under the Milky Way galaxy
swirling above me
on this knife-ridgeline,
walking toward Heaven on Earth.

I'm going to torch up some nag champa,
turn the lights down low
and indulge in some ashtanga.
Join me.

I sat frozen
to ice age glacier
staring at the sunlight
glinting off my crampons.

At seven thousand meters,
the sky is black not blue,
you can't breathe,
it feels like you're
gonna have a heart attack.

Clouds swirled around me
like ghosts whispering
a cosmic-language
before disappearing
into the jet stream,
leaving you
in a dream-like state.

Some locals tried
to sell me a blunt
in the thin air
up there
& I refused.
I didn't need the ****,
I was already hallucinating.

I watched
the attack,
the ****, then
the splitting
of the spoils.

With precision
& in good order,
they dissected
the carcass
like skilled pros.

I watched them
dismantle the legs
with great speed,
just like the wings
& antennae
taken away
quickly
in a caravan.

Such action
takes place 24/7
on mounds
everywhere,
on the killing fields
of the insect world.

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.

Time stood still,
for but a brief moment,
the world was mesmerized
by yet another inhumane
act of terror.

And when the
smoke cleared &
the rubble fell,
we swore allegience
against the devil,
not Allah.

Plain & simple,
there was nothing sacred
about small-minded,
selfish bearded-men
with virgins on their minds
flying jets into the Twin Towers
loaded with humans
working to make
ends meet.
Nothing.

Volcanic bathes sprinkle
the altiplano of my mind
filled with wanderlust.
I visualize the majesty
of the heavens there,
hear pan pipes wailing.

Ancients voices call me
to join them
on a different plane,
back to another time
long ago, back to
when they landed at Nazca.

"There's no such thing as a witch,"
Martha told me smiling
trying hard to hold the corners
of her lips from turning up
and holding her hand
over her pentagram
silver-necklace.
She dropped
a chicken foot
right next
to a circle of
six smoldering candles
& a burnt tarot card.
I knew then
it was time for me
to leave her premise.
I scooted across her yard
& locked the gate
behind me
feeling strange,
as if I were lying,
placed
under a spell.

La tee da!
Oh yeah,
that was our spirit,
the eyes captured
real reflections of puffy clouds,
kisses existed to mean something,
weren't just part of
the 'do-me-now' process.

The rain exploded alright,
we jet-streamed,
smack dab,
right into the sun,
yep, it was fun,
those lip locks
& tender caresses.
I still remember
the fragrance you gave off,
it was fabulous,
those nights with you.

When it was time to reflect,
I'd always fill up the igloo,
fuel the jeep,
buy some bacon & eggs
& tumble out
into the wilderness.
And it was there,
under God's
little
twinkling lanterns,
hanging solo
around the campfire,
usually dancing in a naked haze
of true grit & whiskey,
I'd find balance.

I placed candy-kisses
between
your wildest dreams,
heard you scream
from another dimension,
and with great fervor,
flowed my sugar.

Strange spells wafted
through the marketplace,
a mixture of sweat,
manure & spices,
it was too weird.
The shopkeepers seemed edgy,
their black eyes darted
around like water bugs
driving hovercrafts.
A baker sold
outdated batteries
& fixed junk cars.
There were jars
of unknown
foodstuffs
behind the counter.
I wasn't buying ****,
just looking around
without making sounds,
Jesus, it was rough.
Bootleg DVD's
were piled sky high
at many of the shops,
along with the Pop CD's.
A burqa'd woman crouched
in an alleyway.
I'm still not sure
what she was doing,
but it didn't look right.
I swear to God,
I'd have never visited this
bizarre bizaar
if it wasn't for this fight,
the war on terror.

The beat seemed toxic,
rapidly jumping
alcohol-fueled beings
with shellacked hair,
bouncing off the walls
under the spinning disco ball.
But it wasn't disco,
they had moved onto industrial,
trying to make sense
of the wasteland outside,
the wasteland
they called home.

The grim reaper
works many times
for reasons unknown
& when the ******
takes a loved one early,
we wanna know why
& get no answer,
crying relentlessly
for the bleeding to stop,
forever ******* on
& cursing
the angel of death
to drop dead
themselves.

Every night,
when the sun disappears
behind the tenements,
I sit on my balcony
to witness
the sinister congregation
pooled under
the lone
flickering
streetlamp.

Fueled on petrol,
they holler
explicit expletives
holding their palms
high in the air
Heiling Hitlers
as they middle-finger
the scooting passer-byers.

And I think to myself,
what ******* fools,
they'd be the first to go
if the **** ever went down,
carrying their inked swastikas
like totally clueless mad clowns.

Primordial fragrances
wafted
through our room
as our sweet thoughts
were carried
by the cool breezes
out into the starry night
& I will never,
never forget the way
you breathed,
tasting my marmalade
on soft petals.

Pink melts to the surface
explosively to greet me,
slowly pressing up
to dust away the pitch.

And one by one,
each diamond disintegrates,
snuffed out
by the perpetual coming
of the morning star.

I've spent a million wishes,
gone this far
to give up now
& I won't.
I need to stare down sundown
in the face
again,
just to prove a point,
I still believe in my dreams,
even if others don't.
Seize the ******* day
as nightfall comes quickly.

Simplicity is listening
to the winter winds blow,
walking to the 7-11
to have a slushee
on a hot summer's day,
kissing & holding hands
under the stars
during a cool autumn eve
& planting a vegetable garden
in the spring.

So soothing & so real,
these things make
living
a great big deal.

Tweets & twerps,
listening to
digital synthesized
voice recognition,
utilizing
automated banking,
constant texting,
od'ing on xbox games
& having super duper
super computers is
technolife.

Enough confusion
& complexity
to drive you
totally insane.

We hung out on the edge,
in the border towns,
creating havoc,
a little bit of mayhem,
injecting Boone’s Farm,
perusing the streets
with insurrection etched
into our skins,
crying acid rain.

Imbibed,
flying higher
than the highest kites
& fluttering in the wind,
we walked scarecrow-like,
against the grain.

And if you looked in our eyes,
you’d swear we were touched,
touched by more than
anything sacred,
not from above
but from far below,
in a place near Hell’s gates,
we doled out pain.

They're everywhere these days
& nights,
I’ve seen them
in the coffee shops,
at the grocery, reading
down at library,
even hanging out on the pier with the rats.

They’re constantly watching,
waiting & moving
in and out
of the shadows,
in broad daylight,
dying,
fighting for you.

They are the new age bloodsuckers,
so beautiful, so handsome,
with their lily-white smiles
& million dollars tastes,
stealing your soul,
taking you down
to perdition.

If it riddles that
you seek answers to,
then purchase one of those
crossword puzzle books.
They're cheap
& you can cheat,
peek at the solutions in
the back of the book.

But remember
& just so you know,
I'm not found in any glossary,
so don't pretend
any planets aligned for us,
I burn indigo,
you bleed red
& we both lie alone.

For let us once
uncloak ourselves,
take this seriousness off.
As if the world would end
on such a missing note.
Just one less frantic tune
to complete the symphony.
Surely one might miss the piccolo
or an oboe, but in the greater scheme,
the concert will go on,
without or without
one missing serious-instrument.

So, strum on
in a vibrant key,
let yourself go
from all your troubles.
Play an uninhibited harmony,
blow a sweeter tune,
one of gaiety,
one of lightheartedness,
one of gentle tenderness!

For fellow word-musicians,
this composition
is much too short,
to play out of tune
most of the time,
as well.

We flew into bars
like hellfire & brimstone
& we never took prisoners,
drank until
our heads spun
off the socket,
buzzing.

We rocked it
like time was
running out,
shouted like
sharp dressed men,
the ******* never lied
putting on
an eminence front.

And we made it
through
our young-misbehavior,
not unscathed,
but stung.

You peek from under
the prettiest head of hair,
thick like your accent,
heads twist,
almost break,
when you willow by
the gawkers gulping java.

You have the rare magic
to stop the wind
wanting to pass through
your lady-essence.
Stardust trails your way,
such luscious curves
memorizing those behind,
you have them trying
to read your mind
with your kind
radiant-eyes.

And me,
I wait with anticipation
as you float right for me,
opening the door to
your workplace,
wishing it was your heart
instead.

I heard the coyote cry
lonesome sound
& the fire crackle
imaginary harmonica,
telling lies about peace.

There is no law out here,
out here on the prairie,
moving doggies,
where men die
with red-eye whiskey
broken dreams.

With mighty branches
reaching into the stars
& roots stretching
deep into the earth,
they stand tall,
these ancient sentinels
are indeed,
the center of the universe.

I’ve often wondered
what my associates would
think if I went completely off the graph.
I mean, like if I went into the workplace,
knocked on the boss’s door
& cold cocked his fat ugly face,
sat down at his oaken desk,
kicked my feet up,
lit up a cigarette &
told Becky to get her nice ***
in gear for some dictation.
Wouldn’t that
throw my
stuffy-shirt mates
for loop.
I’d be the biggest scoop
in the company paper,
“Jonny Goes Nuts in Sector B!”

I drifted along A1A,
sunken to Heineken depths,
my thumb at attention.
Coldplay had rocked the night before
& there were long ribbons of cars
trailing the byways.
I never realized how
unforgiving concert goers are,
six hours of hitching & not one bite.
I was even wearing a tie dye.
So much for peace & love,
the good neighborly thing.

The ages tell no lies,
those conjurors swirling
deadly rumors
& brewing evil-karma
have their own rewards.

Some call it sorcery,
the diabolical-spells
boiling forth troubles,
bringing recompense
to the unholy,
who deserve
a helping hand
from Hell itself.

And yet,
truth has seen
the coming of days,
dispelled the myths,
looked
into the dormant
cauldrons of many,
lying
frozen in ice,
under the twinkling
skies of Heaven.

And did you
stay up late
reading to me
chivalrous stories
of sweet pretty fairies
& other wonderful tales?

And did you
touch
my most
intimate parts,
'cause I'm much too sensitive
& I constantly dream
of sensuous-pixies
in my sleep
at night.

You lay & yearn
& I
will hit you
from every angle
& we
will listen
to the sweet sound
of our magical waterfall,
hear torrents of our love
rushing through us.

She was a mysterious one,
forever flirting with disaster,
seeking a higher place,
changes to her genetics.

She was not frantic,
so very deliberate,
floating ethereal,
a denizen of the night,
seeking her blue injection.

She swam in the grey,
hid amongst the tombstones
listening to the dead,
calling her out with
sultry-provocation.

She swirled
inside her mind,
met the fluid-dreamer,
who filled her
with his alteration,
an image of the purity
she so desperately sought.

She loved the dirt
he gave her
& she craved him,
another mysterious one,
another denizen of the night,
altered forever
under the moonlight.

And they're not coming back, ever.