And how can
one go mad
Buttercup,
when one is already
crazier than a loon?

Does one get madder
through self-indulgence?
Pray tell me please,
put my mind at ease,
Buttercup.
Should I drink
a whole bottle of mezcal,
burn an ounce of herb or
snort a mountain of flake?

Oh, I do ache, Buttercup!
But should I
buy a Hummer,
spend my money
on frivolous things,
like endless raindrops?

Oh Buttercup,
how do you
keep your pain
in check?

Through
these
restless situations?

I think
methinks
not.

We wore torn blue jeans,
the holier the better,
pearl-buttoned shirts
& pointed Justin's
rounded out
our tough-guy
wardrobe.

We guzzled whiskey
& Crown
& told most folks
to kiss our *****,
even the coppers.

The pretty lasses loved us
& some had bigger ***** than us,
they tried to capture our hearts
& make real men out of us.

Sometimes
they succeeded
& sadly,
sometimes not,
our common sense
clouded
by alcohol-laced
testosterone.

I lost a lot of precious time
trying to be cool.

We stayed in a real temple,
bribed the guards
to spend the night with jaguars,
sleep with dolphins
&  listen to the howlers
scream all night,
above our
sacred love-making,
which ended with the rising
of the morning star
& the coming of more tourists
to see crumbling pyramids.

This morning gray skies prevailed,
an icy wind bit my face,
cold tears streamed down
as I pedaled along the deserted streets.

The few drivers who did pass
had no faces.
Perhaps they
were chilled,
crying,
felt a bit empty too.

I walked the ridge
solo,
downward
into the squall,
battling hail
with ice-brick hands,
the rain pummeled
me below the alpine line
all the way to my nylon abode.
I wish I were still there,
it was joy.

Pretty painted face
She hobbles on wooden shoes
Beautiful maiden

The pretty lass
moved fawn-like
behind the counter,
her thin flowered sun dress
grasped her sleek-form
so delicately,
grinning behind glasses,
she mesmerized me
completely.

A bit sassy,
with an
air of confidence,
her craft spoke volumes.
She had
a keen eye for detail,
her quality
was impeccable,
burnished ancient coins,
Apollo & Diana the huntress
hung near iridescent colors,
Macaws & Amazons
blazed their vibrant hues.

She sold me Roman glass
wrapped in Sterling,
handcrafted by
her beautiful hands.
If she only knew
how much
it truly touched me.

I love pansies & posies,
dandelions & roses,
& poppies do melt my heart.
The lily-of-the-valley
is endearing,
she's so beautiful.
Peonies & veronicas,
carnations & daffodils,
dahlias & tulips,
their colors thrill me,
spill onto my palette.

I extremely enjoy the fine
array of their luscious petals,
the explosiveness of their fragrance,
so delicious & soothing,
almost hypnotic,
they're dreamy,
I could sniff them
forever, taste
their flowery-spirit.

I'm a white guy,
he called me Wasicu,
but I have two eagle feathers,
both with dyed
porcupine quills.
They were sacred gifts,
given to me
by my red guy friend,
his name was Big Jim,
he was a vet,
he had scars
from being pierced,
and owned
an eagle bone whistle.

Years of personal experience,
I made my recommendation,
but the know-it-all didn't listen,
he bought the canary-colored backpack anyway.  

I chuckled under my breath,
thinking how
every toucan in the jungle
was going to be chasing him
on his dream vacation
to the jungle.

Idiot.

She's was sitting pretty
with her long hair flowing,
both arms were covered
with brightly colored-sleeves,
eating a burger & fries.

She seemed intriguing,
like a sweet fox,
her jade eyes
screamed adventure,
her **** aura
whispered,
"Come & get me."

I was going
through the drive-thru
& when I came back around,
she was hopping
into a pick-up truck
with some other dude.

That Murphy's
is a crazy place.
Who knew some
fast burger joints
had quick-women,
too.

Did you?

I only hear the chain clinking
under the endlessly spinning fan
& this continuous buzzing in my head.

I only see the light of my screen,
surrounded by the pitch of my room
& the veil of my solitude that covers me.

I only smell your memory in my mind,
of what once was really incredible
& what could have been so much greater.

I only touch myself privately,
the way you always did tenderly
& it's not nearly as good as you always did.

I only taste the abundant saline-drops
that carve deep lines down my sad face
& I know the flavor of loneliness,
remain starved for your affections.

Let's just say mom
had two sides.
She was a true dichotomy,
a great example
of the perfect
yin yang mother.

On one side,
she did the best
she could,
clothed us
& fed us,
cleaned up our cuts,
did a bit of homework
& taught us about Jesus.

On the other side,
she did her worse.
She lied,
connived,
****** a couple
of my high school friends
& showed us the devil.

I want to be an astronaut,
feel the pulsations of liftoff,
experience the orbiting of crystal seas
taste the rising sun
& the rush of reentry
for eternity.

I clapped my hands
& heard
the porpoises calling.

They sung to me
in a secret language,
it sounded like laughter,
certainly not imminent disaster.

It seemed ethereal
as I stood and wondered
how many heads rolled
next to the temple
& how many clapped
to hear the dolphins laugh,
above the din of brutality.

One minute,
he's passing out candy
to the local children
and within an hour
he's ******* his M4,
spitting lead at hostiles,
dialed into killing them.
It's no wonder he got inked
with dual scorpions,
one on each arm,
before he rotated
back home.

I love in & out burgers,
they're simple,
hot,
so delicious
& just the right
amount of meat.
The fries are just as sweet.

There ain't nothing backwoods
about this place,
I just heard Sublime blaring
at the local BBQ eatery.
Love is all they got
& that placing was jamming.

Lying alone gets monotonous,
I count the sheep
& it doesn't work,
I just stare at the fan.

Many times I write
and that works for awhile,
then loneliness creeps back
& I'm all out if sheep.

What then?  
Yoga & jam donuts!

There's an autistic guy
sitting in the booth next to me,
he works in a different zone,
but they keep piling loads
of meticulous **** on him
& he does it lickity split
with a smile on his face.
Who knew he'd be
so proficient.

Funny, it's no joke
how the rest of my
coworkers whine
when they don't
get their smoke break
with so much
of their work
left to do.

Sometimes
I feel like nut
& when I do,
it's a pistachio.
I love to act tweaked,
paint myself green,
hulk it up a bit.

I have a jester's hat,
it's bright & colorful,
tipped with eight jingle bells.
It's perfect for the days
when I play
the village idiot.

By the way,
I'm not a brilliant guy,
I just like to stare
wide-eyed up into the sky.

And I ain't no bigot to others,
not even toward midgets,
'cause they're part of my family,
& we love to play stupid.

We write endlessly
about the sensuous things in life,
it's ***-for-tat,
some rat-a-tat-tat,
for us
that's where it's at.

It ain't like chess,
gin rummy
or even go fish,
it's the real hot-deal
in penmanship.

We're restless souls,
dreaming & wishing,
confessing & bleeding
our ruptured-hearts out
in ******-like
steamy-words.

Hell no,
we ain't terse,
we're just darned
loose with the ****-verses....
read them & believe it,
kindred spirits!

Long ago,
I remember,
we paid the lone-guard
twenty pesos apiece
to camp on
top of the temple,
to experience
something cosmic.
And after he left,
we stripped down
to our bareness
& kissed under
the milky-stars
with howlers squealing
a backdrop melody.
I lost myself that night.
Tracing your lips with my tongue,
I felt the cool jungle air
swirling around us,
you did not fight me
as I melted inside you.
I swear the jaguars
rejoiced that night,
as we had rekindled
the acts of the sacred gods.
It was more than cosmic,
more than stellar,
I felt the poles shift
our hearts.

Emails & web searches,
filtered &
documented,
footprints leading right
to your fingerprints.

I want to be a hippie,
join a small commune,
set up my camp
way out in the woods,
near the back forty
& the railroad tracks.

I want to swim naked
with them pretty chicks,
braid natty dreads,
go tubing on the river,
make beeswax candles
& tie dyes.

I want weave dream catchers,
paint glitter on Venetian beads,
sing happy songs,
create new stars,
eat whole wheat bread
& make Tabouili salads.

I wanna dance,
circle the blazing fire,
shout out at the moon,
splash myself in patchouli,
smell ****-smoke in the air
& indulge in tantric things.

I don’t wanna
hurt anybody,
break any laws,
just wanna spread love,
blow kisses to butterflies,
ride double-rainbows
on magic carpets
& be a hippie.

We saw six stars melt
& counted every constellation,
three signs of the zodiac,
kept ourselves warm
holding sticky fingers
& kissing each other's
sugary-lips.

The taste of marshmallows
lingered in our mouths,
as our tongues
played serpentine-games
with tightly-shut eyes
lying fireside.

I wanted to stay
with you like that,
love you infinitely,
but we both knew
nothing so nice
ever lasts.

Now, when I think
about the past
& melt marshmallows,
I see your pretty face,
remember your sweet-kisses,
feel your tender touch.
Only the Lord knows
how much I miss you.

So you should know darling,
I've saved your loving-memory
deep in my heart
forever & it comforts me
when I'm alone & cold.

You should see my rooster,
he's a lively un-hooded fellow.
All day long,
he pecks & he crows,
and at night,
if you listen closely,
he'll scream loudly
just for you,
a personal,
"****-a-doodle-doo!"

O Darling,
do you hear him...
crowing,
now?

Anger & frustration & lust
has eaten away at my soul
& now
I'm somebody,
God has taken control.
I'm on a roll
in this flight class,
gonna buy a one-way ticket,
teach the world a lesson
& celebrate,
celebrate
with my brothers,
up in heaven,
doing virgins.

Inhale her fragrance
Gentle kiss circular twist
See her excitement

Fifty strains of flu
Painful needle looms so large
Do these vaccines work

Imagine yourself
intertwined
with an anteater,
an octopus &
a chimpanzee
all at once
in a room with soft lighting,
beaded curtains,
vanilla incense burning
& Barry White crooning
under a full moon.

He commanded the tsunami
with great fighter skill
& rode through the surf
on crustacean shellbacks.

Skilled in the traditional arts,
he kept his katana secure.

For to look into his flame eyes
was enough to witness
your own death.

It's never the end of the world,
at least,
not until the big-lady sings.
Things could always be worse.

I imagine how some people felt
who were awakened in the wee hours,
had their families loaded onto trains
for the overland journey
to those nasty oven-camps,
never to be seen again.

We've put people on the moon.
So I'm just gonna take one day at a time
& pray an asteroid doesn't hit us.
Now that would really ruin one's day.

I want to go on a jaunt,
hunt up her backbone
with my beagle nose.
I'd like to stop
along the way
to lick her chops,
before I drop
on top,
howling
at the moon,
between her stars,
panting.

I am your
most obeduent servant.
three lovers in one.
I can lick the dew right off
your sweet long-stemmed rose,
taste your delicious dandelions
& make love to your pretty petunia,
enjoy a serious night of it.

There are so many upsides
to modern technology,
like the love for it
& the ability to see
deep space objects,
all the hairs on the leg of a bee.
But the fumes and horns
in abundance
kills the romance
& for that,
I hate the founders,
the founders
of the industrial age
who danced with certain death.

I'm a pepper ******,
from the mild
to nuclear,
I'll eat them all.

BBQ chicken wings,
roast pork,
baked stork
& tacos,
just pile up the
jalapeños,
ghost pepper,
maye a habanero or two.

All my kin
know how delicious
thay are going down
& how fiery
they are coming out.

But no matter,
I don't care about
the bewares
& shout for more
of those hot
mouth-watering
stemmed
explosive gems.

Soon I'll be scaring the Blue Herons
fishing on the shore
as I ride around the lake
at lightspeeds
watching the sunrise
and listening to Zeppelin.
Alleluia...I can't wait...

Even the beetles
know
how to roll dung
uphill
to make a living.
I can't believe
those lazy mofos
hanging out
to collect our spoils,
with us toiling daily,
spilling more dough,
into the coffers
for easy handouts.
They're lazier
than ****-beetles.

She's a pretty girl,
I see rubies in her eyes,
pearls on her neck,
diamonds on her chest,
she ***** my power.

I drift &
I'm gone like Hercules,
I will never give up
on her.

I saw lot's of gold men
strutting out in the desert,
spinning themselves
like drunken madmen
warped on internal-sin.
They fell at your feet
like arcade-magic,
the way you want it.

But you gave it away
to the whole team.
So sultry & wanton,
cravings, cravings, cravings,
screaming such sexiness,
scheming your selfish desires,
another everybody's girl,
saving nothing &
not much left to give.

Was I just token
& do you
really like
to see me broken...
...hey,
dreamgirl,
why can't you hear me?

It was a magical summer.
Lodi blared as fireflies glowed,
leaves fluttered in the pure winds
of those cool Georgian nights.

We scared them foxes
something good.
You were classic in
your favorite auto.
They peed in their pants
seeing a werewolf and me
driving around the park
in a beat-up Chevy Impala.

You’re gone now,
alcohol took you away.
I still have the mask
somewhere in a box.
I sure miss you,
those good times
and Fogarty.

I don't ask for very much
& it's not like the
sun,
the moon,
and the stars
darling,
it's just some *******
every now & then
& it could be.

I am surrounded by empty booths
& four sides clothed in beige,
highlighted by hanging globe- lanterns casting a serene aura.

The swing of the kitchen door
greets me, the lone patron
who has placed his order
for miso soup &
white sticky rice.

My placemat educates
me about the zodiac &
I can almost hear the
creaking of the bamboo
painted on the walls,
it leaves me
feeling nice
inside.

Tracing your backbone
with sweet little kisses
reminds me
of the cordillera,
challenging &
so beautiful,
serpentine,
a climber's dream
come true.

And if you only knew,
how I love
to use
my thick rope,
your snow would melt.

The road of love-intentions
is paved with potholes,
major dips & cracked tarmac.

In fact, it is indeed
the slipperiest of slopes,
one of the highest
most lucid-rushes,
where one can drop
into the lowest of lows,
a pitched darkness,
feeling like a simple-ghost
repeating history.

It's the toughest habit to kick.
Every time I try, I feel
like a drugged-mule
crazed & stubborn,
kicking for a deliverance
but wanting more
of that good stuff.

I want to go to Romania,
split this vacuum,
fly jumbo
across the deep blue
into Bucharest.

I want to adopt a gypsy baby,
a fat one with olive skin,
one with Romany eyes,
cries all the time,
bangs its head
against the crib.

I want to be a saint,
make a difference
in at least one person's life.
I figured a gypsy baby
might be the most grateful.

Having another gypsy
as a parent
would certainly
be better than
a non-gypsy one.

She lies
magnificently,
feminine poetry,
so beautiful
in snapshot.

I feel her every word,
fiery fingertips
swirling a tempest
& I am smitten,
yet so frustrated,
I cannot touch
her luscious lips.

I watched
a preening robin
on my windowsill
today.

Looking around,
it watch itself from
every angle
scratching at feathers.
It did not flinch
at me behind the glass &
I felt there was some
sort of a connection
of some sorts.

Never once
did I consider
this beautiful creature
a narcissus,
it was only
taking
care if itself.