O where
O where
can my baby be,
is she a dead mystery,
now just ancient history?

I have million dollar questions
& I stand alone,
holding the bag
with an empty billfold.

She wore swastikas
on her forehead like scabs,
etchings that perhaps
blinded her heart &
the bitterness did flow,
a lifeblood
hardening her sweet-soul.

She acted bold,
took wild risks,
pulled people from the line-up,
taking potshots with their emotions,
play-acting with other humans,
as if she were the only one
with heart break.

Well,
little did she know,
she had no monopoly on pain,
I did.

I heard them twinkling
in deadly silence,
high up, perched
in my rocky-nest,
I sat in camouflage,
my frigid-finger at the ready,
listening to them,
I thought about home
& death.

Go ahead doll face,
back up,
back up
just a bit.
Oooooooh,
that's right,
I won't fight you
made me bite my lip,
hip-mover,
you're moving
in the right place.

Vibrant and spunky
Traditional beverage
Calms the anxious soul

I remember hanging out
with the gay guys
after work.
They worked the front of the house,
my buds & me in the back.
We wore loose blue jeans,
they strutted tight ones.
We smoked dope,
they smoked dope.
They drank beer,
we drank beer.
We talked about chicks,
they talked about *****.
And there was never any fear,
even when we got
****** & drunk.
Like ***,
we worked,
they worked,
gay or straight,
our fun was universal.

Triple jewel so
giant,
so daunting,
you bask under
Andean moonlight.

So bright,
a milenium eagle,
dream weaver beacon,
you create fright
in your staunchest foes,
respect drawn & quartered
into the minds of
the cragsmen,
dead
& alive.

I'm so infatuated with the girl next door.
She's drop dead gorgeous,
has marble skin & jet-black hair,
her jade eyes mesmerize,
tasty feminine thighs.

Still I have to admit,
her habits are a bit strange.
She only comes out at night,
has an aversion to wearing crosses
& avoids the days like the plague.
One striking thing about her
that does stick out
are her teeth.
She has the nicest set of fangs,
said me she wants to **** me.
I told I was her for the taking.
But it's weird,
since that discussion,
she's been keeping her distance.
I really thought
she totally wanted me,
guess I was wrong.
The other day,
I heard through the grapevine
that she didn't
want to infect me,
make me her prisoner
for all eternity,
she said it wasn't fair.

In fact, she's still ******
at the dude who kissed her
with that cursed disease.

You showed me your private-joy,
your clear blue-plexiglass,
battery-powered,
vibrational-toy
& I became enthusiastic
with how skillfully
you played with it,
moved to the buzzing noises
with your own sweet sounds.
Your sighs were fantastic darling,
they put me in a finer state,
a beautiful romantic mood
to make love.

Hollywood didn't have to spend
tens of millions of greenbacks
on a fantasy feature
about apes ruling a planet.
All they had to do
was make a documentary film
about the world's current leadership.
It would have been
much cheaper
& a hell of a lot
more realistic.

No one can deny the tenderness,
the feeling of such wet-friction,
those intimate-motions meant
to feel the genuine soul of another.

O the warm embrace,
face-to-pretty-face,
lip-to-luscious-lips acts,
the attraction of pheromones!

It is one of nature's truest gifts,
not to be abused as some do,
but to be savored, to be inhaled,
drank like the finest wine,
written about
by lonely romantic odists
who love such things.

My wings grow weaker,
I feel fainter in a solo-flight
heading into the brilliant-sun,
discovering truths of fiery-passion,
these reckless reasons to fall apart.

The wax at my joints
is becoming unglued,
it's frightful,
becoming unhinged.

I am the darkest of angels
seeking the light,
starting
to shed my delicate feathers,
scared & trembling.

It's really hard to believe,
every single one of us
started out
as a reproductive cell,
swimming deeply
into a dark wet ******.
All of us were consummated,
******* during
different variations
of the intimacy act.
In fact, some of us
were quickies,
others one night stands
& maybe more than a few,
long romantic evenings.
Whatever, we all became babies.
I would like to think,
I was made on a warm summer evening,
lying on a white-sand beach,
under a beautiful full moon
next to the sound of the surf,
moving to a sweet rhythm.
But I wonder,
was I a mistake,
a break in the protection,
or something worse,
some type of infection.

She was perfect,
meticulous
with her bebop hairdo,
nails manicured,
her precious feet
neatly fitted
into her wedge
flip-flops.
Jesus, a one-piece French-cut,
the see-thru kind!
She blew my mind.
That's the way
it's supposed to be.
I counted every single
grain of sand
stuck
in between
her pretty toes,
she was perfect.

There's nothing worse
than to awaken
with a hardened sword
alone
& no one
here
to spar with,
but the shadows
on the wall
of my empty,
quiet room.

Cool breezes on deck
under the Southern Cross
her twinkling-eyes

It seems like
I can never win
with you.
I've been smashed
more than once,
cracked my skull twice
& broken three shins.
But at least
I've good training.
When I finally
get the courage to tell you
we're through,
I know
I will have
a great career
as a crash test dummy.

The monkey was a smooth operator,
it would sit for hours above the busy street eating green bananas,
then every now & then,
would slide down the drain pipe
to make the exchange.
Nobody suspected a capuchin
dressed in leathers,
trading tar for dollars.
Ingenious.

I dream about putting
small kisses
down your precious-spine
while my fingers work magic tricks.

And if I could click my fingers,
use an ancient spell,
I’d zap you here
really quick,
give you my love
in the flesh.

That would be soooooo swell!

The first time
somebody swallowed me,
she was a tigress,
left her mark on me forever
& I miss her bite.

Everybody
should carry
their own business card
someday.
They are definitely icebreakers
& can certainly give a person
a sense of pride.
And what a great way
to spread personal information
about one's true worth.

Perhaps, they should all
read something like this:

(Front of Card)

Jonny Angel,
A Human Being

(Back of Card)

Wannabe Poet
Lover of People
Idealist

Now, if we could find a way to spread them globally...

Shoot me with your phaser on stun,
then drag me to your starship,
tie me down,
inject me with serums,
hook me up to machines,
take me out of this world,
help me to reach nirvana
on the dark side of the moon,
experiment all you want,
I am a willing specimen.

Lying in silence,
my digits explore
succulent nerve-endings,
opening portals,
unlocking your secrets,
imagining our elixirs
mixing by friction.

My tongue travels
mindlessly up
the curvature of your back,
playing make believe,
using a strong tight-grip
to simulate, to stimulate
you & me
into a magical place,
where we cleanse each other,
one into the other,
bathe ourselves in seed.

Marking our territories
in the forbidden city,
we take liberties
in bare skin.
Conjugal & electric,
these actions here,
so badly needed.

I had a bad vision last night.
My buddies & I were out clubbing,
hanging out in the swankiest upscale place,
right next to the dance floor.
They were getting
all the ladies
& I just sat there
alone,
******* down
what was
left of my fruity
designer-drink
& wondering,
"Am I too old for my dreams?!"

In the dead silence
of my empty room,
I whisper your sweet name
in a frenzy
releasing a steady stream
of my imagination
in flowing words
across my chest.
The room smells primordial...

I keep getting itchy ears
& this burning feeling
deep in my heart.
And lately it feels like
I've disappeared inside myself,
thinking only about her.

She's so sweet and fair,
her hair has captured the sunshine,
she walks trance-like swiveling heads
& glitter flows from her fingertips.

Some say she's a witch
& a good one at that,
but I can't say if that's for real.
One thing is for sure,
she is pure,
pure unadultered magic
& I think,
I think maybe
I'm in love
with a pretty witch.

And well, now that
I think about her
amazing effect on me,
maybe it is her,
her captivating,
conjuring a love spell
just on me!

We'll see...only time will tell!

My kind usually brags about it,
****** & pillaging,
big bad *****,
chalk up another,
notch that bedpost,
I ****** me another one.

But what about those
others who don't' gloat,
hiding in remote thoughts,
stuffing their feelings,
feeling like
they're
more than
just a hard ****
& all alone.

It hurts just as much
as their counterparts,
who feel like trash,
a heart-broken *****
& are just as blue.

Ravens came to me
in the dead of night,
dancing
in ancient-ritual,
their chiseled beaks
spoke greater mysteries.

Do these harbingers,
these mystic-birds,
feathered-keepers
of the the deeper secrets
of the universe
bring me ill omens
with this cryptic dance?

Unanswered,
I lie here alone,
breathless & wondering
if she sees the same message
from these swirling black oracles.

We're inundated daily,
being groomed
for corporate-success.
We're told who we are,
what we have to drive,
how we gotta act.
Did you see that gorgeous skinny
valley-girl chick
wearing that million dollar gown?
The fact is,
we all can't be twins,
wearing identical clothes
& driving Xerox wheels.
That ain't real...living in a matrix.

I had no choice,
my arrival was not wished for.
But I broke through the placenta
and all the choices are mine now.

There's not much to say about
strong sensual mutual feelings.
Having the void filled tightly
with warm thoughts wrapped
around my heart,
our soul,
means so much.

She plays a mystic & speaks in secrets,
hypnotizes men with her sensuous-gait,
musk floats in strong streams behind her.

Her mouth tastes like succulent dates
ripened under the Damascene sun,
her ******* are perfect orbs
formed by the hands of the gods,
the curvature of her buttocks sways
like elusive cobras, her bite
can poison the soul of the weak ones
& in her hair lies fresh flowers.

I pray for her fervently
night & day
to come take me away
on a magic-carpet ride,
across an ocean of stars
twinkling in the glorious
infinite heavens above.

You always loved me
on your own terms,
rolling them dice,
slamming down those cards
& picking up sticks.
Rock on Sweetness.
You go Honey Pie.
And while you at it,
playing those silly little games,
do a couple of magic tricks for me.
Make one a vanishing act.
'Cause when you reappear,
I promise,
you'll think about me,
you'll wish I was there.
But you can kiss my *** goodbye,
I promise,
you won't find me
in a ******* Jack box,
not this time.
Sorry Dollface,
you'll have to find
another gamer
to make promises.

I needed to know her better,
so I slowly slipped inside her spirit,
'till both of them rested against
her moist skin.

Thus, began our dance,
our sweet rhythmic romance.

When it's this deep & trance-like,
you know she understands you,
'specially when you free-flow
your own personal thoughts
like the morning dew.

Remember when honey,
remember when
we used to play
the game of doctor.
I always wanted
to take your temperature,
and you let me.
And afterwards,
when I was done,
you would lay,
you would lay
your head
on my heaving chest
with your stethoscope.
You told me
you loved the sound,
the sound
of my beating heart.
Whew
lady-doctor,
we sure
had some
clinical fun!

O rupture me Miss Poison,
let us sin,
use me
for your folly.

Impale yourself on me,
ride me
like no tomorrow
& inject me
with your strychnine.

'Cause I want
to writhe beneath you
& return the favor
with my own
brand of toxin.

****, you're so fine.

She begged me
for some enlightenment
& resting on her chin,
I fulfilled her desires,
put a smile on her lips
from ear to ear,
she was quenched
with brilliance
in her pretty
sparkly eyes.

Waking up at 0330
to get into formation
to march two miles
to take your ***** ******* laundry
to the cleaners is weird.  
Like this **** couldn’t wait.
Like what the hell are we going to do in combat?
Stop the ******* war,
tell the enemy to hold back the bullets
while we clean our clothes.
Christ, we could have
at least gotten up at 0500
to do this ****.
Besides, it’s peace time anyways,
who really gives a rats ***
if we have ***** clothes or not?
Certainly, not the enemy!

Climbing mountains of hope,
riding treacherous stormy seas,
they cross sun-drenched deserts.
With riotous rifles, they fly with dark angelic wings
slicing through clouds crying memories.

They are the young bloods, the pawns of the brokers,
some laden with modern death-technologies,
others carry improvised implements,
dazzling flowers swirl in their eyes,
holding torches held high,
onward soldiers they cry
to the victorious victory!

In all seasons,
they breathe strongly,
moving to better futures,
creating new worlds,
flowing into silent landscapes,
penetrating the watchtowers
of their enemies.

You fill out black
so beautifully
dear lady,
so delicious.
From the curves
of your full hips
to the nape
of your delicate neck
and your wonderful points
in between
I scream silently
to be taken,
to fall down
with my face full
of your tasty
tender-flower.
You can call it lust
or you can call it love,
it really doesn't matter darling,
I trust it will be not only be great,
it will be incredibly appetizing, too.

Some say
cyanide’s a nasty poison,
comes in a small bottle,
that it doesn’t
take much of a dose
to change
your ******-functions.

I’ve been told
it’ll make your eyes
roll up inside your head,
body-twitch all over,
get weak in the knees,
make your respiration skyrocket,
& your heart flutter madly!

Personally, that really
doesn’t sound too bad,
I’m just wondering
if you can get that stuff
by the case.
If it does all that sweet stuff,
I’m going to need
a lifetime supply of it.

O Dear Woman,
you sacred-gift,
that sweet-sound
we make!

You can try to deny it,
hide it, not abide in it...
but, when we get like that,
when our bodies intertwine,
unwind & tighten, connect,
create primal-friction,
they cascade our flows,
echoing the throes,
our *****-passions
off the walls
of seclusion!

O Dear Woman,
you sacred-gift,
that sweet-sound
we make!

I remember the sad sound in your sweet voice,
you trembled when we hugged,
when you told me goodbye.
I cried my eyes out
& left tears in your hair
that enveloped me
in the wind
that day,
the last day I saw you.

I slipped behind you
on all fours,
bypassed your chantilly lace
squirming,
I traced your lovely form
and me,
the naked summer worm,
fell smitten.

I was there
with you
when the Nazis marched in.
I remember
the small bistro
near the arc
Mademoiselle.
We were getting smashed
on Beaujolais,
I was curling
strands of your hair
between
my cigarette fingers,
whispering love
& getting lost
in your azure eyes.
When the smoked cleared,
things were never the same.
You left early one morning
in a boxcar
& I went underground
to defeat the juggernaut.
I never got your name,
just remembered you
were such a pretty femme.

I move my fingers
up
&
down
they scribe,
pen pieces of my heart.

Can you feel them
moving in circles,
creating these
heartfelt lines,
can you ******* soul,
can you.

I get these recurring
scintillating
thoughts
about you
& my pulse explodes.

This heart of mine
palpitates,
envisioning
our wet holy pastimes,
genuine passions
unleashed.

I can feel your breath
on my twisting neck
& your magical gyrations
get the best out
of my wild imaginations.

This very moment
is so heavenly,
thinking about
being inside
of your own wanton-mind
takes me to the brink
of lust addiction.

You can fix me darling.

I want to be,
I want to be
your personal snail,
slither my tongue
up your spine,
so divine you are
as I cover,
I kiss,
every nook and cranny,
both elbows and knees,
the back and front
of your neck.
Geez,
down I slide
in between your
delicious *******,
then all the way
around
to your pool.
And there
refreshed,
I begin
to leave my trail
up
your gorgeous back,
shell-less
again.

Salty, I started rolling
down from your brow,
over your high cheek
past your full lips,
swimming your slender neck
gracefully skimming your shoulder,
and up over your puffy-nip
under your hung fruit
toward your raised-hip,
then falling with gravity
in between your parted thighs
through your succulent-oyster
inside inner-thigh
around knee,
tripping calf
to your pretty toes.

Lord knows,
I am in your sweat,
falling.

With improvised backpacks
& flowers in their hair,
they were forging new beginnings,
building dreams for brighter futures.

Marching toward victory
under the sacred heavens,
they were snuffed out
through the end of a barrel,
the guns of the ruling class.

Ignorance & hate rule our days,
but surely wealth & power
cannot withstand the coming tides.

The hours will come when
the guerillas will seek truth,
a recompense
for the dense fog
that makes us blind
to their corruptions
& killings.

Some call it Armageddon,
others call it righteous justice.
I say karma.

Traveling through space
with her
while lying in bed
is magical, really
beyond description.

She took me to Venus,
but not before we circled
the globe twice,
slipped through
the Aurora Borealis
& landed on Mars.

Orion winked when
I filled her
cookie-jar cannister
full with an extra
load of rocket fuel.

Ground control
gave up on Major Tom,
'cause there's a new astronaut
on the block.
Just ask her.