I love the surf at night,
the ebb,
the flow
of mountainous waves,
the tumbling,
the wet sounds
of pure
raw nature,
the relentless pounding
of the Earth.
So every chance I get,
I walk the lonely shoreline
under the cloak of darkness,
God's tiny,
sparkling lanterns,
just to be,
just to be
one with the ocean,
the Goddess of all eternity,
so beautiful
she is
so fine.

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.

There are odors in my room,
circulating,
titillating my mind.
But, they're really more
like fragrances
& sweet memories of you,
not physically here,
I just think you are.
Primordial to the bone.
Raw to the skin.
Primal instincts.
Wantonness beyond compare.
Sensuality to the core.
Hot Tamale.
Honest *****.
O Yes Darling,
you still haunt me
when I want you,
need your smells
to quell my memory.

Like what the **** were you doing,
playing around like that?
That auto-erotica
is some serious business.
You wanted choking
to come
& now you hang there
lifeless.
Was dying worth it trying?

Aglow you lie
in fullest splendour,
a rare blossom,
the truest gift given
& indulgent me,
my rosy cheeks covered
by your sheen,
I cry to the heavens,
awash in
your gentle-spirit
& coated with
the purest of clover,
I remain,
forever & ever,
your sweetest lover.

Oft I've wondered
about the fallen tree
and loneliness,
this feeling.

And who can say,
does anyone
hear a flower cry
when it dies
in silent fields.

It's cold here,
lying
amongst
the fallen
petals.

I watched two of them
divebomb
the old bird
once
and chuckled
at how miffed
the buzzard got.
All it could do
was hold its wings up,
as if saying,
"Alright then,
you got me!"

Freezing temperatures have descended,
there's no rustling of animals outside,
the sun is still sleeping, yet
duty calls, there's a photo shoot out on the lake.
This electric blanket is all I need, but money talks.
If I continue to balk, I won't get paid &
I don't want to starve in cold weather,
I have to keep the home fires burning.

I am the original renegade,
was crazy before I was born.
I never play the status quo game,
it was I who invented
the tune of a different drummer,
even the Marlboro Man
took cues from me.

There's no reason for me
to write with any encryption,
'cause I have no superstitions,
I just wanna tell it,
give to you straight,
harden your resolve.

Some might call that ego,
but whenever I've fallen,
I've gotten back up.
Once I ran with the bulls
& they have bigger ***** than me,
I won the race.

Like you 'lil darling,
I'm the dangerous type,
you can ask Cleo,
she sings the words.

Some lyrics stay with you,
they stick to your memory
like glue,
if you only knew.
I'm leaving on a jetplane soon
& I'm not sure when I'll be back,
'cause the melody's sticking
this time for good
I think,
I'm hooked on a feeling.

Father was a stand-up guy,
everybody liked him,
he could tell
an interesting story
or dance to a funny joke.

O but Dad had his faults too,
honor & honesty
weren't any of them.
And neither were
a hard work ethic
or love of his family.

He was smart though,
made it all the way though college
after growing up
in the school of hard knocks.

But despite his strengths,
I guess he had
two great faults.
His gullibility
& the belief in
an adulterous woman
until the day he died.

So you want to go higher
than your nicotine-induced rush,
get dreamier than your ethanol buzz,
speed faster than your ******* train,
eliminate the pain you find
deep in your heart
with chemicals
& compounds.

O indeed your brain
does pound, it screams
for a release.

So please pretty baby,
let me in,
open your door wide,
quit your hiding.

I can do all of those trippy things
and a whole lot more.
I can, I will
effect you organically,
magically,
completely,
with only myself,
a bowl full of ocean waves,
a six-pack of stars,
a sniff of green meadow
& maybe a kiss or two.

The stars above me
offer no warmth,
they are
of little comfort.

I am in the danger zone,
out on the perimeter,
dug in deep
like an Eskimo
in an ice fortress.
The winds have made my nose run,
frozen snot covers my beard,
my eyes tear constantly,
making it hard
on the night-vision.

Occasionally,
I see streaming jet-lights,
an airliner in the stratosphere,
zipping across the Heavens,
out of harm’s way.

And I think about the cocktails,
the pretty stewardesses
gathered back near the galley,
it makes me warm
& crack a weak-smile.

I want to lie
in your garden,
get wrapped tightly
in you arms,
all eight of them
teasing me,
kneading me
with suction,
such luscious seduction.

We can play amongst the coral,
you & your ink & me,
the masterful escape artist
& her prisoner.

The full moon
looks down upon
the lonely hearted,
casting its glow
upon chisled-faces,
cheeks
covered
with streams
of dried tears,
fearful of the morning.

And when the warmth
of the bright star appears,
we lie hidden still,
silently waiting
for the return of night,
when moonglow carresses
us into our lost dreams
& we write of pain,
comforted,
yet again.

We came upon a nightmare,
something bad had happened there.
Oil-smoke hung in the air,
death & destruction
had certainly rained down,
the area was littered
with body parts,
pieces of burnt entrails.

Flies were everywhere,
a sweet smell hung in the air.
The first crushed skull I ever saw
creeped me out quite a bit.
I had to fight the *****.
****, this wasn’t the movies,
some computer-generated hologram,
it was real war,
we had five to smoke ‘em.

But I couldn’t wait to get along.
I was now majorly spooked
by the vacant looks
staring up at me
from the other heads
lying speechless,
so comfortable
in the bleached-sand,
their final resting place.

A sadness hung in the air
as we moved again
to the next smoke break,
twelve clicks away,
it looked the same way.

So we get needled,
nickle and dimed
all of the time,
people chinking away
at our armor.

Wanting to scream
at the top of our longs
to *******,
but instead acting
prim and proper,
a residual of the Vanderbilt
school of etiquette,
******* political correctness
ruining the spirit.

Can you hear it,
see the blight,
the lack of courage
all over this land?

The pills are working,
I'm not anxious anymore.
Thank God for modern medical
technology.
No joke.
At $60.00 US a bottle,
I figure by the end of the year,
I'll be sane
& ******* broke,
like the rest of the Country.
That's crazy.

She said it wasn't her first rodeo,
so I told her
I wanted to pull pig tails
& with a yee haw,
she bucked like a wild filly,
me a bronco.

I try to think like an angel
darling,
I honestly do.
But when
I think about you
& the way you move,
your cute seductive ways,
I sprout a pair
of devil-horns
& wanna play
badly with you...
if you,
you only knew
sweet Angel.

Once upon a time,
I was part of a gritty
electrified bona fide love.

We blazed together,
basked in the warmth
of our ***, our true nature,
a sacred special place where
******-comforts satisfied.

Upon consummation,
we would laugh in ecstasy,
clinging onto each other
like we were the last humans on Earth.

It's not funny anymore,
writing
about such things,
the times when we were never alone,
like now,
thinking about
once upon a time,
all of the time.

I pray to the morning light
on sore knees
asking for just an ounce of wisdom,
a little strength
to fight
through these circadian days
feeding the machine.

Separate yourself,
pull yourself away
from the mundane.

Think deep,
deep
deep thoughts of me.
Split your mind
into a million particles of fantasy.
Let me explode,
explode
explode
into your sweetest
fiery-thoughts.

I want to take you,
make you breathless,
carress you with clairvoyant-love,
so real.

You seem so prim,
so proper
on the outside,
sweet & sugarcoated,
yummy.

You float around the room
like a sweet butterfly,
everybody just loves
your pretty innocence.

But behind closed doors,
you're downright vixenish,
not really rude,
but crude,
the kind of crude
that makes a man blush.

Shhhhhh,
hush,
I'm not in a rush......
that's it....
ride.....
right there....
uuuuuhh,
O Darling push,
make my face turn red!

She was indeed
a temptress,
so sultry & alluring,
the queen of all vixens,
revealed to me
her pentagram,
beautifully-inked
between
the dimples
of her lovely back.

And me behind,
intoxicated
by her musk
& under
her hypnotic-spell
did unleash,
explode
in deep fiery-motions
the floodgates,
seeded her my soul
to keep.

We get ****** and we fume.
questioning the very
creation of the universe
wondering why our hearts
are forever broken.
And we blame it on them.
Oh yes, them!
Those wretched *******,
such users.
Them ******* *******,
huge takers.
And when we look,
when we look at that joker
in the mirror,
we never say,
"I love you."

Nameless they lived
in tenements
they called castles,
the working classes,
grinding the chains
of harsh realities,
blinded by mass spirituality,
moved about
to and fro
on circadian feet
& lost forever
in the annals
of lying histories,
those written by the victors.

I heard the rumors,
returning infantrymen
spoke of rolling fields,
acres of poppies sparkling
under the Helmand sun.

And in the local markets,
behind in the darkened
alleyways & dens
sat the zombies,
wearing their pakols,
puffing dream sticks
packed with midnight oil.

A jaded tree I held,
felt the rough bark
between my fingers,
my hand
cupped the texture,
smooth & uneven,
glazed hues of
malachite,
azures & cobalt
titillated my senses.

I was intoxicated
by the aroma of mint,
tasted the raw honey
that warmed my heart
& produced an inner glow,
traces of Marrakesh
linger yet.

I run on adrenalin
twenty-four seven.
I can kick ***,
take no prisoners
& softly kiss,
rub my fingers
delicately,
through your hair.

And you say,
you want *******,
can taste
my pheromones
in the air.

Then go ahead tough girl,
open your shut door
wide,
quit hidin',
I'll play your
silly little game.

But darling,
don't you blame me
if I taint you.
My adrenalin's addictive
& you'll want more,
of that I'm sure.
'Cause I'm a chemical,
a chemical you
cannot resist.

Looking for a cheese omelet
when you a million miles from home
is a tall order,
and even if,
even if they use egg beaters
& fake slices,
is better than eating nothing at all.

Contemplate
the nickname
"Piston Tongue"
and if it doesn't make you
weak in the knees,
quiver a tiny bit,
then you're not thinking
deep enough.

A stillness reigns as
Mister Sunshine falls west.
I see his traces
peeking between the valiant oaks,
standing tall,
motionless & unwavering.

Miss Pitch descends slowly
with her blanket of stars,
bringing comfort,
a night of frolicking,
excitement & more romance.

Buffalo Bill was tweaked,
a real *******,
making a skin outfit like that
& dancing around like a super freak,
pinching his *******
& screaming at captured chicks
to put lotion on their skins.
What a sicko.
For real.

I remember when
I was wild & young,
it seemed like I was
always on the run,
looking for that
next bit of fun.

And you do give me good vibes sweet,
you take me to that special place,
where I can get lost in your soul,
reminisce about the good old days.

I think I may be crazy
falling for you like this,
I can't fight it,
'cause it feels so right.

So if I fall asleep
here in your warm bed,
wrapped in your arms,
please don't
put a pillow over my head,
just kiss me.

Certainly it's ***** season in Afghanistan,
them folks are smokin' them tar *****.
I mean those people are trippin',
shootin' **** up like the Fourth of July,
warlord-style,
just like them drug infested gangs
in Oakland,
Detroit,
South Chicago,
St. Louis.
Even them cops don't go in blind.
IED what?
Bad mammer jammer.

I knew a biker chick once.
She was as tough as nails.
Her name was Jenny,
but she went
by the moniker
"Brass ***** Lady."
She had tracks up and down each arm
from a past life.
A broken heart tattoo
was etched on both hands.
She carried a switchblade,
had a set of initialed knuckles.
She wore a tie dye bandana.
Her vocabulary was not elegant.
**** and *******'
were her two favorite
expressions.
She had a chained
snakeskin wallet
attached to her
black leather belt.
You could see a faint
lovelight in her hazy-eyes...
but like I said,
it was faint.
It was the brotherhood,
those crazy
******* Mongols
who took her under their wings
and brought her back
to the land of the living.
I'm glad she was my friend,
'cause those guys
were nasty enemies to have.
And anybody
who was an amigo of Jenny's
was in like Flynn.
I loved Brass ***** Lady,
she gave me their colors
& nobody ever ****** with me either.

Supercharged,
I feel your fingertips,
so electrical.
Rampantly we travel
to unknown galaxies,
where stars hear our dreams.

I see your face in the void,
taste your meteorite-blood
as it floods my soul.

Your eyes reflect Vega-system,
which I love, immersing
myself in your Heavenly
body above me,
I spiral inside you.

I cannot inhale your pheromones,
are we real here,
in these living cosmos?

Moonglow reflects
on the shimmering palms
of the oasis
where I seek a respite
to wipe away this dust,
refresh my parched lips.

I have connected
the star-dots
to get back to you
& with one leg left,
I count the hours
to be held in your arms
once again,
soon.

Light years from help, we were lost in another world called the ****.
Our split-second decisions meant the difference between living or dying,
and out here, out here on the fringes, we were the law, the lions.

We had the power to end the synapses called life, it was our occupation
& it was a simple-process, the hardest part was making up your mind.
Once done, it was just a click to autopilot to slit a neck & watch the blood flow.

Goat herders & shoe shine boys, farmers & elders, all were potential enemies,
but the consequences of media could disrupt your decisions & many times it did,
it cost warriors their own lives to make clueless-others think war is bed of roses.

Once, I gave
a one-eyed beggar
who looked hungry
a handful of nuts
& he threw them
out into the cobblestone street
for the manged mongrels
who scarved them up.

The lonely duck stayed up
on one webbed foot
& there it remained
for days
in the same place,
balancing & staring off
across the lake
as if waiting
for another duck to return,
which never did.

Sometimes my written pieces are short,
spur of the moment scribblings,
'cause all I have
are only snippets in time
to write about.

There is still a million things to tell,
but it's always the same.
Blood,
guts,
nightmares
& political *******.
No matter how I slice it,
it will always be the same.
So I'm closing the book,
they're no more stories to tell,
no reason to spread any more horror.
And don't you worry about me,
the war is over,
I'll just die with the bad memories,
alone.

Someone once said,
kids say the darnedest things.
People say we're teaching kids,
but the reality is,
they're teaching us.

I overheard a young child
in the grocery store yesterday.
It was in the check out line.
The young one was tugging
on his mother's sweater & out of
the mouth of that babe I heard,
"Mommy are all people butting in line *******?"
Everyone turned to look.
"Shhhhhh", she said,
"honey, they might hear you!"
I thought, what the hell,
those kind of people should know better
than to set that kind of example
with small children around!

Someone once said,
kids say the darnedest things.
People say we're teaching kids,
but the reality is,
they're teaching us.

I meant all those tender things I said.
I just thought you had your big girl pants on.

Sorry Sugar,
your pigtails & pretty ribbons
threw me off.

And now
I've got no choice.
I've got to find a way
to get over you.

And I still care.

The spell took hold of me at an early age,
rapid breathing & a stimulating blood flow,
an inner glow that makes one tingle,
feel like they've been stung
by an electric eel (incantation).
Some say it's pheromones,
a chemical-hormonal reaction,
but I say its more magic than that.
In fact, it's downright sorcery.

I read somewhere
that you can tell a lot about a people
by the way they treat their animals.
The roaming beasts there were sick,
skeleton-skinny,
ravenously hungry,
and skittish as hell.
Much like the residents
in the neighborhoods we visited.
God Bless them.
There but by the grace of God go I.
I thank the Almighty 24/7
that I was spared
from living in beastland.

I am as cool as a fire,
calm like a rabbit,
mean as a dove,
angry like a priest,
loving as a terrorist,
square like a circle,
raging as a summer sprinkle.

Located somewhere
from her nice belly button
to her raised hot buns