Night descends as
gray velvet pulsates
the skies above me.
I hear the trickle
bouncing off a million leaves,
God's tears cleansing
sacred ground.

There is no dishonor
to be found in this land.
This holy place is
a gift from heaven
& that spirit
still lives
in mason jars.

And if I strain to listen,
I can hear phantom-shiners
howling at the moon
& playing fiddles.

I usually slip in two,
but sometimes I'll add a third,
she likes them stronger
& on Tequila-nights like that,
things usually last
a whole lot longer.

There's much more
than simple hoots
in an owl tune.

I hear a series
of complex notes,
subtle changes in
the inflection,
a slow steady delivery.

I feel the lonely spirit,
a couragous-fighter,
this brave-hunter
who rules
the night.

I hear triumph & tragedy,
delight & sadness.
I hear his echo,
his wail,
his solitary
purpose.

I hear all these things
& so much more
in his voice,
so loud
these lovely-notes,
hoots in the darkness,
hidden inside the din.

I kind of freaked
when you asked me to do it
for the first time,
but I remember it quite clearly.

Time In A Bottle was playing
loud and clear on the radio,
we were hopped up on hops,
engaged in some intimate things.

You begged me
to smack your ***
& I did,
left red handprints
on both of your beautiful cheeks.

It's amazing what beers
will do to your inner desires,
I call it releasing the kraken,
it's genuine crazy bliss.

You were so fine,
the way your lips
intertwined with mine,
so genuine,
it was indeed
unadulterated bliss.

I wish
I could taste
your beautiful kisses again.

For they were purer
than the freshest lemonade,
more intoxicating
than applejack moonshine,
sweeter
than a Cadbury chocolate fish.

I need...
uhhhh,
I want  to kiss you
badly.

I want to tickle
your sensitivities,
taste your delicious flavor
at the corners.

I long to inhale
your sweet fragrance
throughout my entire days
& all of my nights.

O yes Dear Lady,
do not fight me,
you so inspire me,
you ignite my inner fire,
I hope you like my beard!

I'm a caffeine ******
& I've got the **** so bad
I walk down the street
to the grocer,
then I walk down
the coffee aisle
just to sniff
the ******* bean-laced air.
I can't afford designer coffees.
But I hang out at the local coffee shop
& wait,
I wait for the other junkies
to drop their empty paper cups.
If I'm lucky,
I can get a drop or two of mocha.
None of this **** is a joke either,
I'm jonesing for some Kona
& they're out.
I had my mind set on it....
I'm buzzing like an electric eel.....
I'm gonna explode.

It's all so very electric,
this modern, hi-tech
technology moving thoughts,
our feelings at lightspeeds,
continent-to-continent
through cyberspace.

I ponder what people did
without E-mail,
Facebook,
Twitter,
I-Phones & Droids,
X-Boxes,
laptop computers
and all the other
cool plastic-devices
manufactured
to make
our lives easier,
worth living?

I think they probably
talked face-to-face with each other,
wrote letters using real handwriting, not buttons.
They kissed each other on the lips in person,
held hands, breathed on each others necks.
And I am sure there were other things they did with one another best kept private.
It's no secret.....
wow, real intimate-contact!

Things must have been much harder then....

O, how I pray for simplicity,
to feel human touch again!

Lonely rides along
A shadowy figure breaking hearts
His sad lot in life

So voracious,
very prolific,
with seemingly
endless appetites.
Most waiting their turn,
but not the Woodpeckers
nor those Jays fighting,
but the Finches
and Doves,
those mighty Wrens
are splendid,
testimonies
to etiquette.

Give me your heart
& I'll give you mine.
Give me your soul
& I'll curl your toes.

'Cause you Lil' Darling
ring my bell
& I'm a bit ding-a-ling
when my bell gets rung,
I want to ring back.

You'll love it,
the tinkling sounds
I know we'll make.

The Earth will quake
with the rockin' & rollin'
we'll do in the midday sun
& under the stars at night, too!

It's a beautiful circus affair,
them artists meeting
in the round square,
in Asheville down there.
Pixies & henchmen
spreading their wares
& so lively,
it seems magic
covers them
with true love,
coming down
from the mountain air.

I looked at her,
and the way she
wore her scars.
I watched her,
and the way
she moved
so graceful.
And immediately,
I was not scared anymore.
She made gratitude
roll from my eyes.
And in my saline,
I tasted tears,
tears from my angel.

I breathe in breathe out
Do not fight sacred order
Am one with heaven

We came bearing corporate gifts,
Three Musketeers & Juicy Fruit,
Gummi Bears &
a few Marlboros.

Some of them wore souvenirs T's,
the Bulls & the Yankees,
Disney World
& the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,
totally clueless.

Out in the markets,
sat a million capitalists
selling pirated Hollywood
& fake Levis
to make a nickel.

And when we left,
we gave them
even more destruction
by leveling their villages
with another corporate gift,
our Lima M1 Abrams.

I've know every square inch
of your beautiful topography,
kissing you from your crown
to the tips of your toes.
I've memorized every curve,
nook and cranny,
slipped between your hills,
ventured up
into your valley
& journeyed over
your long stretches.
And during my travels
over you,
I learned wanderlust
& I must have you,
again & again.

The peeking sunlight
cut like razors through
my pounding head.
The aftermath of tequila
emanated from my breath.

Some strange woman
wearing a red butterfly necklace
was in my jostled-bed,
she appeared dead.

A box of half eaten donuts
was on the table,
popcorn was scattered
all over the floor,
the door was ajar,
LaBamba played on repeat.

My feet hurt like hell,
it felt like every toe was broken.
A scorpion tattoo crawled up my arm
as the alarm clock blared.

Jesus, it was a bad morning,
but the night looks
like it may have been worse.

Thin nylon strands
had us connected,
tethered together,
tiny living
specks
moving
like frozen molasses.

Certain death
was evident
on both sides
of the knife-edged ridge
with jagged
rocky bottoms.

We were mesmerized
by the curvature
& witnessed
falling stars
whistling past
our wool-capped heads.

Up there,
near Heaven
we were so alive,
more alive
than
the
dead
walking
down here
at sea level
witnessing nothing
(but mass media &
fake reality shows).

The computer-age takes us to places
at supersonic speeds
faster than light.

We fight the surges,
create the urges to connect
at speeds much slower.

So seductive,
it's all so very overwhelming,
this social-networking without touch
drives most of us crazy,
especially if your tactile.

You make me smile
cyber lover.
Too bad I can't touch your lips to kiss......for real.

I claim not
to be a prolific writer,
I just can't stop
my creative mind control
over these itchy fingers.
O please wake up
& come back to me,
my restless soul,
I'm scared.

I watched her
disembark
from
her Chevy truck
with the "Go Army" sticker.
She carefully strapped
on her metal legs
and walked to the bench
fifty feet away,
to sit
& skip stones.
It seemed like a struggle for her,
but she was persistent,
quite successful.
Seeing her like that
made me think
about
how much
I take for granted.
Like getting up
in the middle of the night
just to urinate.
She's gone now,
but I sure do hope
she comes back,
I can't wait to meet her,
feel her spirit.

They use **** sounding words
around here,
the bread is fantastic,
the vino exquisite,
so who wants beer?
Not me.
In fact,
I have no jet lag.
Si tomorrow,
I think I'll go play tag
around the Louvre
& get some photos
near the tower,
feel the power
of Naploleon.

It was out
in the middle
of Cinnamon
that the night
belonged to us.

Not a single soul
was in sight,
we were engaged,
intertwined,
hanging
onto each other
with all of
our might.

We clung to our
own bouy line,
like jellyfish
enraptured,
electric.

We left a chum line
of sweat, tears, and other
soluable materials
we exchanged,
given to us
by the Gods.

We watched
a falling star,
tumble,
disappear
into the Pleiades.

You were mystical
and I was a mystic.

You are indeed darling,
the apple of my eye,
and so much more
when you hold yourself
up like that,
so beautifully,
and I seed you,
such a sweetie pie!

I watched her
unknowingly
draw her bath
& she,
she is such beauty
& I was so lost
in her privacy,
I became a trickle
from her slow faucet,
forever tasting,
forever tasting,
forever,
tasting
her sweet-moment
with lavender.

It was a time of innovation,
a period of fresh discovery
for us infantrymen.
Close quarter combat
was never fought like that,
M4's, NVG's and IPods,
with lot's of grenades.
Technological
advancements
so explosive,
beyond any
of our wildest dreams.
And yet,
and yet,
the deliveries
were still the same,
hand-to-hand,
we fought,
pulling pins,
listening
to the sound
of automatic bullets
whizzing overhead
& Ozzie,
some Metallica,
all season long.
Some things never change,
like war and death.

We shot pool that night
for what seemed like generations.
This old bearded veteran and me,
a young buck,
dropped eight *****
into side pockets
and chugged multiple pitchers
of the high life.
He said he had some killer *****
out in his beetle,
so we took a break,
cruised out into the cool evening
under a sky full of pretty little stars.
Well he was right,
after two or three hits,
I wanted to choke the ever living ****
right out of him.
I never had a guy say
he wanted me
to lay on top of him
like that.
I never expected that request
from a guy
with devil tattoos
running down
each arm.
I thought to myself,
that's what sweet lovers do.
That was some weird ****.
Needless to say,
I lived up to my nickname Flash.
I never saw that **** again.
I was gone in an instant,
jet-stream quick.

The only bad thing
that really
happened to me
in my childhood
was my mother
constantly
cheated
on my father.
It left no visible marks
or any signs of deformity,
perhaps
just a little,
some invisible pain.
Guess I'm,
I'm the lucky one.

I broke my clover
when I was five
& things
have been
downhill
ever since.

But still I keep
the three leaves,
what's left,
in my front pocket.

It's hope,
just in case
my luck changes.

Where there's smoke,
there's fire.
This burning
is not cliche,
nor peculiar,
it's a natural
hormonal-thing.

She spins me
round and round,
makes such
sweet
lovely sounds,
sings to me
with those precious lips.

I am warm to the touch,
in a trance with her,
her dripping words,
her sensuous vibe
& I feel zombie-like,
she fuels my desire,
high octane mama.
Touch me.

Jenny wanted to play her hand
in the big game,
she was a risk taker,
bought lipstick early
& wore them designer jeans to ****.
Her blouses revealed
too much of a good thing
& before long
all the boys held her aces.
Face have face called her out
& she played
her entire deck before twenty.
They say traces of her still linger,
but most of her suitors
have gone back
to gin rummy
or gone fishing.

You drive me mad woman,
make me feel like a puppet,
a regular lunatic.

So please darling,
please take me
with you
to the other side.
String me up,
move my body parts
with your slick fingers.

Choke me,
choke me,
choke me hard,
take my thickness
within your
temptress-spirit.

Destroy me,
take me down,
squeeze tight,
annihilate me
with your charms,
consume
my rapid flow.

I want to inhale us,
feel your lady-grip,
taste us,
suffocate myself
deep inside
your
warm glow
& feel spent.

I learn lessons the hard way,
it's always been my forte.
In fact, they called me 'Rock Head' in the Army.

I can surely go the distance,
but when my romantic heart dreams,
it's time to call me silly putty head.
I can't think straight,
my mind goes blank.

Quite frankly,
that's difficult
for someone
who prides themselves
cerebral.

Bravely you answered the call
for your fatherlands,
fought revolutionary wars for your mothers,
protected you children from the scourge
of corruption &  greed,
the murderous acts of
villainous human-rats.

You became nocturnal sentinels,
counted stars, cupped cigarettes,
yearned for new creations,
kept faded photographs
in the special pockets
of you tattered knapsacks.
You learned the art of insomnia,
slept in the mud & dirt of your homelands,
spit lead into the sick hearts of the wolf pack,
whom you were always certain would **** you.

You became eternal combatants
& fought with great zest,
confessing your strength
from machine-gun nests,
laughed like mad dogs under fire,
those times when things seemed dire.
You were killed with fireballs & tracers,
gunships & tanks & planes & artillery,
died in shallow trenches
& in hardened bunkers,
in the thick jungles
& in endless deserts,
on mountaintops
& on beaches,
even in the cornfields
& on the city streets
of your own neighborhoods.

You were assassinated by pariahs,
the enemies of your people,
your blood watered your lands,
helped to nourish
your strong beliefs,
the flowers of freedom
& now you sleep soundly,
deep under the sacred-grounds
gifted to you
by the same blood
shed by your ancestors,
your forefathers & mothers,
brothers & sisters, aunt & uncles,
all the members of your family trees.

And with great love
poetry will be written
for you rebels,
recorded histories
& unknown graves
will be the stark reminders
of the size of your hearts
& your mountain of courage
will forever stand as testimony.

Every time you
tap another key,
post another word,
give me more stanza,
you sink deeper,
place your heart
on the line
with mine.

'Cause I read
everything
you put out
& I imagine
your delicate fingers
tracing my own stories
of loneliness &
broken hearts.

You're so fine,
a genuine poet.

I give her an inch
& she takes a mile.
But that's alright with me,
'cause you see,
when I'm feeling down,
she puts a happy smile
right back on my frowning-face.
And, I love her for that right.

It's never quite right,
those early
rushed
hangover mornings
with cold water running,
a dull blade
and those ****** nicks
on my lips
& chin.

I told Snider
his bad habit
would catch up to him
someday,
but not that day.
or in that case,
not that night.
I was thinking
it would be years
down the road
before it got him.
He took a round
smack dab
in his mouth.
He sat there crumbled
without lips and teeth.
It looked like he
was just napping.
The ****,
still smoldering,
was stacked
next to him
in the dirt,
like that tower
in Pisa.
******* bad habits...

Drawn in
with the largest shrimp,
she hooked him,
that tough old grouper
swam outside his rocky lair,
was so willing to lick his chops
on her tasty hook.

She pulled him up
struggling from the depths
& after just one look,
threw him right into the cooler,
iced him along with the other fish
that fell for her tantalizing bait.

I'm really not sure
how I got here,
to this lonely place.
Was it the wind,
the sins of my father,
mother.
Perhaps, it was all
those pretty faces
I fell for,
who took traces of me
& left me brokenhearted.
And though I'm not a boy anymore,
I'm not just another hard toy either.
Seems like that's
all I've ever been to them.
But maybe I'll write
a book of poetry someday
& try to work this out
with heartfelt words.
Look, no hands.

O Darling, you saucy pretty-poet,
****** me with your rhythmic-wit.
Show me your loveable moves,
gobble me up with your hot-stanza,
eat me with your sultry words.
Go ahead & say it,
write it out indiscreetly,
I can take it and so much more.

Well yeah, a haiku is certainly nice,
it’s swell & would suffice,
but I’d rather have a ballad,
perhaps an epic one,
the longer, the better
would be fun!

Wink-wink!

Dual rotors spinning
Sitting ducks fly in mid-air
God, please speed this up

One day you feel safe,
the next day it feels
like the heebie jeebies
are hanging
around your neck.
It's all about the mojo.
If the locals appear happy
and their eyes are smiling,
it's gonna be a good day.
But if you get quiet
and shifty eyes,
the bad boys are
gonna probably play nasty.
On the quietest day of the year,
I saw Miller disappear
in a pink cloud.
Half his body went up
in smoke &
they never found
his legs or nuts.
His right arm
was laying in
in a deep rut
full of sewer water
on the side of the dirt road.
I can't keep my mind
off his screaming,
which still haunts me
to this very day.

There's nothing like it
so early
on a cold winter's morn,
born in fields so far away
& brewed perfectly,
just the right temperature,
a release of blended spices,
invigorating,
so soothing
it goes down nicely,
warming the inner spirit.

I even licked the drops
that rolled
slowly down the sides
of my empty warm cup
wondering about you,
what you like,
your own cup of tea.

You told me
you wanted
to taste
the substance
of my fiery-soul
& with parted lips,
you spoke godly-things.

When our eyes met
in rapture,
you captured me,
swallowed
all that I had
& becoming one,
I lost the feeling of sadness
& became whole
with you,
the swallower of my soul.

****.
She put a new twist
into her demeanor  today.
She slipped out quietly
during our lunch break
and came back with
a huge impish smile
on her pretty face.
It was then I noticed
her bra had disappeared
and her assets
had became riper.
Mine too.
Totally.
****.

I tasted her today
& looked
around skittishly.
It was as if she were
right in front of me,
kissing me,
it caught me off guard.

I was reminded me of the days
when I used to inhale her.
I'd go throughout the day
smiling on cloud nine,
her musk-fragrance
stuck to my
smiling face,
it was delicious.

I just stood there
like I was in a trance,
with my eyes closed,
reminiscing
about our hot-romance
from so long ago.

Maybe
she was sending me
a cosmic-message,
her vibes from another place,
dreaming about my face.

Whatever it was,
I could taste her
on my lips
& I felt satisfied
to think
she was sending me
intimate-signals.

The outer world is trembling,
boys are dreaming here,
you cannot hear their voices.
Metal clanking,
those fireballs &
tracer rounds
cannot touch them
tonight.
Not in this state.

I drink Monsters
for the adrenalin rush,
& because it seems
nothing
really gets me going anymore
& I now I know,
every chance you got,
you used me,
I played the fool
for you.

Christ Almighty Lady,
you’d need a kick start too
if you knew I drained you like that,
how about a Red Bull Shuga?!

I just know
the animals speak to us
in tongues,
you can feel it,
like the ancient prophets.
Go outside and listen
to the singing birds,
those croaking frogs,
that dog barking in the distance.
I swear they're trying to tell us something.