Thoughts of you
send jolts of electricity
throughout my entire body,
making me feel tingly
in my nether regions.

My heart feels like
it's being powered
by a million volts
of raw current,
pumping furiously.

This head buzzes
like a supercharged transformer,
and when I think of dreamy you
& the peach fuzz
below your bellybutton,
my circuits heat up.
Quickly I get overloaded
& spray
the steamy air
with a shower
of sparks.

It's so electrifying,
I'm still buzzing!

It was always weird,
going from smoking & joking,
zero miles-per-hour,
to destructive behaviors,
near supersonic.

The role players
became real
& the blood flew,
covered our surroundings
with entrails.

And we were good,
so much better than them
& they weren't mannequins,
but just as lifeless.

I rode the tale of a comet once,
through the recesses of space,
leaving traces of myself
in every constellation
& most of me lies
in Orion &
within the Southern Cross,
but some is indeed in Gemini
& the rest in Canis Major,
I'm Sirius.

I confess,
I got blitzed on whiskey
& she might have eaten a worm,
but what happened next
was just a blur.

Elbows and derrieres,
the fragrance of lilac,
a taste of succulent waters,
granite & pewter.

A bit of fine red lace,
her smiling face,
traces of smoke lingering
from salty breath,
her sweating sun.

A running fan &
moving crescent moon,
an electric band
crooning, "Ramble On"
with an etched gremlin
smiling,
his arms outstretched,
reciting,
"I Wuv You's"
above the
pretty waxed nest.

I confess,
I got blitzed on whiskey
& I swear she ate the worm.

I want to slide down your throat
& slip into your tummy,
get delirious,
stone cold
drunk
on your bile.
Then you can jump
& spin
& dance
& churn me
into a clear
yellow-liquid,
eliminate me
in rainbow colors,
write my name
in the sands of time.

Loosely packed sweet-herb
Flame burns purple-haired buds
Swirling nirvana

Once he was my constant companion,
I loved the way he soothed my soul,
took all my troubles away
& we played continuously,
frolicked hand-in-hand
throughout many a long night.
But the mornings always hurt,
I'd wobble and stare at the bloodshot eyes
staring back at me in my cracked ***** mirror,
my parched throat usually speechless,
until I finally
sang his swan song.

Stormtroopers
descended on Baja,
rolled over
the disrepaired highways
under the crescent moon,
both crazier than loons.

Dressed in full battle gear,
our billfolds
were stuffed to the hilt
with pesos,
mouths watered
for some aged tequila
& worms.

We met Rosa & Lupita
outside the cantina,
the drinking place
guarded by ten-year olds
carrying machine guns
covered with duct tape.

In the morning,
we were penniless
with hurt heads
& sore feet,
the amigas were gone.

You have so many suitors
& not enough time
to write me some special prose,
but do you paint your pretty toes?
Inquiring minds really want to know,
I can tell.

I saw everything
from A to Z,
love,
hate,
honesty,
deception,
intelligence,
dreams,
reality,­
wantonness,
kindness,
sunshine,
smiles,
laughter,
angst,
calm,
a­nxiety,
piety,
my reflection,
unborn children
& a million other things
I tell you
I witnessed
in her pretty-eyes.

I heard a crotch-rocket
screaming
down the highway.
I mean,
it sounded as if
it was traveling
at supersonic speeds,
its gear shifting
was carried by the wind,
then it was gone
in a flash.
It left me here
sipping hot java
on the veranda,
wondering
about the open road
& the meaning of freedom.

You told me you were crazy,
liked to smoke
mountains of cigarettes.

You told me you craved
massive amounts of whiskey,
you could gulp it all day &
follow with lots of Oxys,
said they took your edge off.

You said you were a crazed *** addict,
loved to do just about anything.

But first, you said
you wanted to be comatose,
had to be numb
before anything started,
'cause that was the only way
you could feel anything.

You said it was payback
for the damage
they'd done to your soul,
for being
forever thirsty
on phony love.

She killed me.
The wild things she did
slayed me.
Through and through,
she pierced my heart
with her ****** shenanigans.
But make no mistake,
I prayed to be a cat,
not with nine wives,
nine lives.
Here kitty kitty,
she purred,
I cried meow meow
curling her toes.

Sometimes her eyes looked gray,
other times a crystal green,
but mostly they looked
the deepest blue.

It really didn't matter to me
what color they were,
I wasn't after her eyes,
I wanted her
changing-mind.

She was fine.

Melancholy notes
strum in the back of my mind.
They croon for what could be,
this cool thing happening
with you and me.

And the distance between us
strokes every string of my heart,
& me,
a simple man,
wanting to release my wild horses,
cries against the wind.

She fidgeted all the time,
working in her cubicle,
with a serious smile
always on her face
& a faraway look
forever in her pretty eyes.
Sometimes she'd wear lace skirts,
accenting her feminine graces.
Her language was often
a bit ***** (but not too much),
and occasionally sighing sounds
could be heard
emanating from her parted lips.
I thought it strange
when she requested to management
a rocking chair for her duties.
What a cutie!
There were rumors swirling around
that she was a practioner
of the Burmese bells.
I so liked working with her
before such innuendos
circulated.
Now I love it,
she's swell.....

It's really not a great mystery
why my feathered friend
loves the sunrise.
To witness such brilliant colors
crack the sky
& kiss the receding darkness,
brings real joy to my eyes,
answering the riddle.

O sing,
sing songbird sing,
ring in the beauty
of a brand new day
& if you could,
please craft a song,
please craft a song,
a song just for me.

Hot chai,
a sprig of mint
and a saffron lollipop.
Babbling brook,
crickets singing
and a million stars.
Top that.

It'd been years since I've smoked a bowl.
When I did again,
it had
not much effect,
felt weird actually.

It's not just
a *******,
it's like
a universal sign,
a non-verbal signal,
to show them some attitude,
to send them a strong message
that we've had enough
& to show them,
where to stick it.

O pretty little flower,
I pick you,
you are the beauty,
the one,
the one I want
to take home
& treasure
for an eternity.

O pretty little flower,
I pick you,
you are the one,
the one
that makes
my heart beat
forever.

O pretty little flower,
I want your
precious petals
to grace my face.
Yes, you are the one.

I heard Lauren had passed
& erupted,
"***,
how sad,
she was so killer,
beautiful in Casablanca!"
And my young co-worker,
said, "Who, where?"
I thought,
really.....imagine that,
truly sad,
a world without Bacall!

Written words can
reflect the inner soul.
So beautiful & mysterious,
they conjure
raw,
vivid,
powerful images
of the writer.

And so emotive in their tone,
it's like being on
an astralplane phone,
one can listen to the
single beats of your heart
through your letters
you contrive so sweetly
& get to know you some.

There's a man in a purple shirt
eating ice cream
at eight in the morning,
a lady in a wheel chair
putting on lipstick
& an elderly couple
sitting
across from me
figuring out their smart phone.

Jim Croce croons
about time in a bottle
as the tapping of shoes
crisscrosses the concourse.

A baby screams
and three workers
converse in Espanol.
The ticket-taker types frantically
on her keyboard
as Mr. Nice guy
is longer,
he's ****** about
his missing reservation.

And me,
silent as can be,
sits here alone
banging away on my own cell,
connected to another world,
oblivious to those around me.

I've witnessed
the curvature
of the Earth
more than two dozen times
while standing
on my own two feet.

Each time
when I commune like this,
with these swirling
zephyr-clouds,
they whisper to me,
songs,
something different.

And upon
the rising of the
morning star,
me too,
in tune with the gods.

You were stone cold
& cried snowflakes,
proof yet,
of your warm
inner-beauty.

I sleep a lot these days,
more than I used to.

Some people say I'm depressed,
but that's okay,
because she's here with me
in my dreams,
we walk and we talk,
and we smoke and we joke,
and sometimes we hold each other
and make love.

Those are the mornings
I wake up
with a piece of granite
and I realize
I'm still alive
and how much
I really miss her
and her sweet
sloppy
succulent
kisses.

So bring it Sandman,
you're burning daylight,
and I want to live
with her at least
one more time.

The minutes tick by
& the days pass like wildfires
across the driest forests,
spitting eternal sparks
up into the summer skies.

And underneath it all,
a tempest does lie,
unbridled passions
doth waste away
without any
falling stars
to catch them.

******* fingers
in your sleep tonight.
Roll your tongue down my back,
let me feel your spirit,
bleed your essence into my heart,
seal me with your honey-kisses,
drip inside my soul.

Release yourself on me.
I want to hear
your silent-scream
as you impale yourself,
go down on me.

I want to feel
your grip pulsating,
draining me of my seed.

I want to savor
your hard puffy-tips
in my dreams,
scream your name,
forever.

I dream about romance, wonder about it,
wonder where it went & how it would be,
to have it back again.
It seems lost these days, disappeared
amongst the fervor, the din of technology,
up in smoke with astrology & fate.

And lo and behold, as in the days of old,
some try to carry on the mystery of the true believers, craving the taste to hold another.
It is indeed a long road to travel, one of angst,
everybody seems hung up on the physicality
& perhaps unable see the true meaning of love.

And though, I myself get wrapped up in *****-thoughts,
I will never forget my first kiss,
the feel of another's hand upon my cheek,
the warmth of her sweet breath down my neck,
the fiery heat of our intertwined naked-bodies
nor the explosive mingling of our primal act.

For to forget such seemingly trivial-things,
is to forget the gentleness of a summer rain,
the splendour of the setting sun,  loons calling at night,
the rising of the sliver-moon with its seductive glow
amongst the millions of bright stars, twinkling in the glorious heavens above.

Floating endlessly
on fluid dreams,
we do
contemplate
every loving act.
We make all
the necessary adjustments
for maximum enjoyment,
that pleasurable
existence
reached
near the sunspots of nirvana.
In that fiery state-of-mind,
we perform
magical solutions
for the escape
into those nether regions,
that place you refer to as
the darker side of Venus.
And there,
screaming for more,
the two of us
find deliverance.

We came to the ice wall
in gale winds,
a forty-degree slab
glistened in our way.

Scree stung our faces,
beards frozen with snot,
we wondered if anything
sacred even existed
in this Godforsaken place.

Six-hundred meters
of free fall was behind us
to rock bottom, time
was growing short,
we had to move quickly,
before we froze our ***** off,
literally.

So there we went...
straight up the wall,
swinging our axes
like wild men
with clubs.

*****
*****
ka-*****.
*****
*****
ka-*****.
*****
*****
k­a-*****.
*****
*****
ka-*****.
*****
*****.

Breath.
Ahhhhh.
Brea­th.
Ahhhh.
Breath.
Ahh.

Whew,
thank God for
these ninety-dollar crampons,
we couldn't have done this
without them.

She loves it,
teasingly
wearing
transparent fine-lace,
revealing more than
just her subtle grace.
She lets the imagination run wild,
from her pretty face,
all the way down
to her sweet revelations,
she moves her hips
hypnotically
to her own beat
& I am swept off my feet...

Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
but Isaiah was a toad
& what of it,
******.
No one ever wrote a song about him,
I think that's a load
of rock 'n roll *******.

I always wondered what happened to Becky.
She’d crank up the crack pipe
& love that thing
‘till she passed out,
usually four days later.
The open sores scarred her face
& her missing teeth were unbecoming
for what was once such a beautiful smile.
Somebody must have really gotten to her spirit.
But whatever the case,
the real reasons for her downhill slide,
those drug companies
are going to pay
someday,
truth.

Spiderwebs crack the sky,
ten million volts
crackling down,
creating sudden whiplash,
as the rolling thunder
floods your soul
with heart palpitations.

You are a witness
to great majesty.

And as the rain pelts the earth
like brimstone,
hellfire bolts its way
into your stream of consciousness,
never to be forgotten,
ever.

I can't wait
to blow this joint.
I'm gonna travel light,
blaze a 777 across
the deep blue sea
& if all goes right,
I'll be sipping a Beaujolais
near the Champs Elysees.
I may even splurge a bit,
get a pack of Gitanes
& smoke my *** off.

Then maybe
I'll take a taxi
down to the Seine
to watch all the lovers
holding each other
for those memorable shots.
I forgot that feeling,
but in one day and a wake-up,
I'll be there to reminisce,
try to capture the moment.

Tune in,
hi,
tune out.
this is the way it is,
Like you expected anything less,
a whole lot more.
the first kiss was a blessing.
Is it slways
going to be like this?
Open the door
the clock is ticking.
Tune out,
hey,
tune in.

It's always
the end of the world
with you,
there's never
any middle ground,
concessions are unknown,
as if the chickens
flew the coop
for the last time &
aren't coming back
to feed the foxes
in your hen house.

Passion reigns deep in my marrow,
it seeps throughout each and every vein.
My banged-up heart redistributes it by the minute,
my weary fingertips spew it constantly,
inside my buzzing head I think of ways to tame it, but it never seems to go away,
it's an affliction that started
even before time, it's genuine.

It rules my daily movements,
I carry it in my throat, it speaks to me
in my *****, makes my skin sensitive to touch.
I'm a fall guy for sunsets, full moons, loons on the lake, pretty beings of the opposite ***, the clinking of wine glasses, and lots of other simple things.
If you only knew how much I love
molasses & honey & pretty sweet faces.

Cupid plays hell with me, he sets me up for failure.
I always get lost in fiery sensuous moments,  I taste raw-things making it harder not to succumb to lustful-whims.
I relish thoughts about carnal sin, dream about intimacy between intertwined-bodies, but I'm not a *****.  I'm just afflicted with passion, attracted to others with the same condition, it always wins.

Autumn splashed her vibrant-colors,
hung flittering splashing sun
in the trees above us.
A gentle breeze wound it's way
up through the trunks from the creek,
swallows chirped melodic.

I held you ever so close,
my fingers strummed your fiery-curls,
I felt your heart in my own throat,
emerald-eyes burn brightly,
you were hypnotic.

I was just about to kiss you,
told you I couldn't promise you forever.
A lone tear rolled down your cheek
as you bit your parted-lip
looking down
at the brown crinkled leaves,
resting silently
at our romantic-feet.

I swear my heart stopped.

It's hard to maintain composure
when you call me like that.
All curled up naked
under the covers,
whispering hot things
in my ears,
breathing heavy,
talking rather lewd,
telling me the saucy-things
you want to do to me
& the sensual-things
you want done to you.

All my blood rushed to my head
& my voice got real low.
My workmates
were circling around
me trying to listen,
figure out who my
secret caller was.
I knew inside my drawers,
I was glistening,
could feel a warm flood coming.

The ****-sounds you made
made it so hard
you sweet girl,
knocking me off my feet,
while standing
up straight
at the job site
dripping.

I hope you dreamt about me
last night,
the same way
I dreamt about you.

It certainly was not a nightmare,
but a tale of great passion.
You lay with me,
your gorgeous hair
sprawled everywhere
covering my nakedness
with visions of grandeur.

And when I awoke,
your rare fragrance
had permeating my skin,
making me wonder,
believe
such dreams do come true.

O sweet dreamer,
can you smell me darling
& did you dream about me
alone in your bed last night?

I love to dream
steamy thoughts of you,
think about your pretty face,
envisioning my own
full of your budding flower,
and you,
releasing
the power of your tasty flow....
....my mouth
searches for the right words
to describe my inner glow.

Do you know them darling?

Some are drunk,
some are sober,
the men unzip & lean
under the Andean moon,
******* their brains out
against the ancient-wall.

Dogs & feral cats
run through it,
spreading stench
& the smell of ****
through the city streets
on tiny paws.

Love is in the air
& I'm flying
home
thinking
'bout her.

Swirling thoughts of her
electrify my entire body.
I'm buzzing here,
from my head
all the way down
to my toes.
I visualize every
square centimeter
of her,
so enticing,
this hot-vision,
when her hands become
mine & I explore her,
count every freckle,
disappear inside her soul.
These thoughts
& frenzied-actions
make me whole,
especially when
I shake,
share my steam
in this dreamy-state.

The highway
is my girlfriend,
I love the black ribbons
she wears
in her endless hair,
flowing
we have
so much clean
fast-fun.

I tune into FM,
her radar love
& cruising in my Hemi,
a Barracuda swimming
at supersonic speeds,
I lean on the accelerator,
hitting hyperspace.

I find myself there
& loving
the transmission lines
on her worn face,
I fly alone
in the darkness,
on Route 41
driving
under stars.

We sat comfortably
in thermal pools
inside the clouds.

A swirling humid
white-mist surrounded us
as we snuggled in
the safety of altitude,
felt the earth tremble
a 5.8 on the Richter.

Moments like that
are never recreated,
just written about
to remember their purity.

There was duct tape
on his automatic weapon,
his eyes fidgeted,
no smiles
& his finger
nervously
stroked the trigger.
No joke,
all of sixteen,
he was,
it made me realize,
I wasn't in Kansas
anymore.