Your beautuful words
seep deep into my mind,
they touch my raw nerves
at the core level,
where my electrons spin circles
around my nuclei.

I can't keep my mind off of you.
I imagine us in all situations,
bouncing our atoms
off of each other,
mixing our chemistries,
solving sensual-mysteries
with the collision of our hearts.

There's a cool tropical breeze
blowing here Sweetheart.
I bet you'd feel it better
with a short skirt on
commando.
You know Darling,
I love playing soldier
with you
in this heat.
Meet me in ten...
privately.

She took me by the hand,
guided my fingers,
& my wanton-mouth
along the smooth contours
of her beautiful landscape.

I touched butterfly wings,
nipped high rosy cheeks,
tasted her full parted lips,
felt the cool rush of
her fragrant breath
& gently-bit
the slenderness
of her delicate neck.

She beckoned me
to move slowly onward,
toward her
twin heaving peaks,
where I learned
of more sensual-things.

She taught me about
the gentle twisting of granite,
slow-swirling-kissing,
& of the nibbling
of puffed sensitive-flesh.
It was exquisite.

Then she begged me
to quickly move southward,
over her rolling meadow,
upward & onto
her delicious-mound,
to use my yearning mouth
in fiery sensuous-ways.

There,
I fervently frolicked,
relished in
the tender petals
her pretty lady-flower,
gently spreading
her cascading beads
over magnificent
swollenness.

And when I caressed
her unfolding petals,
the most sensitive part,
she reached nirvana,
shuddered & spasmed,
released her rawness,
the tastiest of flow.
It was genuine intimacy.

Once,
only the Lord knew
how much I loved
my personal body guide
& know you too,
know the reasons why,
she is so lovely
& divine.

It was by chance,
by chance,
by chance we met.

The moon was full
at the party
that night.
You were beautiful,
such an ethereal-sight,
floated around the room
on invisible wings.

And it was so fitting for you,
you,
you playing vampire
& me,
me,
me in that ape suit
playing Kong King.

I did not fight you
& like in the flick,
I fell down,
sick,
drained of my blood,
dying for your love.

O baby doll,
let's
experiment,
from our bellybuttons
around to our backs,
crawl in each other's mire.
We'll create an amazing-fire,
a fire that will burn,
burn for all eternity.

Shhhhh....don't make a sound,
I've found your treasure.

We're told the action
is down in Rehoboth
& it must be,
but the traffic's so thick
to get there,
by the time we'd make it,
things would
probably be over.

So I'm going to chill
in my own room tonight,
hang out by the pool,
cool!

I sit here quietly
in amazement,
as the planet spins
twenty-thousand
mile-per-hour,
wondering if,
as the moons sinks west,
the songbirds
feel the vibration
of the rising sun.

And I know
they must,
by the songs
they sing,
in brilliant harmonies.

I can't seem to think straight,
my moods swing like
bent butterfly wings.
She certainly pleased me,
every single part of me.
I loved her, but
now I don't.
It crushes me.
It's like pulling
the petals
off daisys.
It hurts.
Guess, I love other things
more than floating
on gentle breezes
with her tenderness.
It's safer that way,
less chance of
broken hearts &
bitterness.

My life surrounds me
in disarray
it seems,
in big dreams,
in high adventure,
fantasies & histories,
the scribblings of poets,
the words of scholars,
the writings of common people,
and the wisdom of sages.

Pages & pages of diatribe,
configurations told in
stories from the soul,
bleeding hearts,
fancy covers and some not so,
but as real,
as different
from the next true fable,
straight from
the same universe.

And if you really want to know me,
if you even care,
gander at my collection,
take a quick peek,
stay awhile &
read what's on my shelves.

And just so you know,
I really would like to know
what's on yours,
truly
I would.

Go ahead Darling,
dolly yourself up,
climb up on your platforms,
tighten those jeans around
your nice lady-hips.
Spread some hot pink
on your ruby red lips.
I think you are the bomb!
O let me,
O please let me,
light your fuze
when your ready to explode,
ready to explode
with me.
It's incineration time.

She's gone forever
Strawberry jam has lost flavor
Stay down Mister sun

You make me feel superhuman Darling.
From my head in the clouds,
way down to my toes on the ground,
you know what makes me tick.
And when you allow me the pleasure
to be on top,
I get weak,
succumb deep inside,
deep inside
your sweet kryptonite-body.
O Please,
though I'm weakened,
don't stop!

I came home
with all my fingers & toes
fully connected.
Still I can't put
a single finger
on what I lost
in that zone.
Dunno,
but I can feel it,
disconnected,
pieces of my brain
gone
inside
a fully intact
cranium.

Most of the machines don't know
they're broken.
They hum circadian.
I am in a patch-process.
I'm rewiring my hard drive
with the only chips I know.
I hope You like
my feeble,
yet desperate attempts,
to reconstruct my mainframe,
my big iron.
Pray for Me.

Coffee is brewing,
I'm tying my boots
& the sun has yet
to crack the sky.
It's a forty-five minute drive
to the trailhead,
but I wouldn't
catch myself dead,
wasting more valuable
hiking time in bed,
missing the sunrise
on Blood Mountain.

one minute walking
explosive bright flash around
blood and guts the next

I laid there staring
at the ceiling fan spinning,
grinning about the night before
& thinking
what happens
in L.A.,
stays in L.A.
**** skippy.

I could barely see
through my red,
tasted my Marlboros
like they were liquid,
felt lost in an illusion.

I tried to whistle Dixie
& forget about
the pretty sleeping
pixie
lying next to me,
buck naked
& snoring like a buffalo.

But how could I?
She drove a Mazda
with Andretti-skill
& cooked a mean plate
of spaghetti.

Her lips were Mona Lisa
smirky & she made me crazy
with moves she's said she learned
from reading ****** poetry.

I loved the fact
she loved fine art
& traced her constellations
with my kisses
until she awoke
& loved me again
sinfully.

There's always
that hot-friction,
it's been there
since time eternal,
that gravity,
that electrical
feel-good connection
between women & men.

For once,
it would be great to
leave the *** out
of this friendship,
is that even possible
with the history that exists
between women & men?

You tell me,
sweet friend,
please do.

I want to fill you up,
take all
of your available inches,
feel you squirm,
turning this way & that,
slide
rapidly around
to create
those spine-tingling sensations,
to hear
your primordial sounds,
then shoot you
full of mystery,
the sacred
mystery of love.

Shadows dance upon the hemlocks
as falling sunlight kisses conifer-tops,
the warblers fight the settling breezes,
echoing the symphony of cicadas
whispering good night
to all the other beautiful trees
& wood spirits swimming
in the cool gurgling-creek.
Thank you Lord.

Faces covered with mud,
dripping with sweat,
coated in
blood stained
brain splatter.
Unsmiling
with invisible tears,
fear spoken
in their bloodshot eyes,
wide as saucers.

They hide in the open,
moving in the shadows,
watching you from the
outside
looking
inside
your dark alleyways.
It's all part of a network,
a cyber inner space,
full of imposters
waiting for the proverbial ****.
It starts as just an ordinary *****,
but you won't bleed out.
The toxin will permeate
all of your senses
& you know,
deeply you know,
it's too late for you
to get back to reality,
to save your soul.

A place exists
high
on the Altiplano
where magic glides
beneath the stone sentinels
and hot springs bubble
to wash
to clean you
of materialistic troubles.
And it was there
in that place
I talked to gods.

Behind dried carcasses,
pitch-eyes watch
your every move.
Swirling incense wafts
between the
open doors of the market.
Trinkets abound,
magical spells
sold with effigies
of chestnut and tin.
For just one Boliviano
you can wreak
havoc on your enemies.
For a few more,
you can purchase
a love potion
that will make her
swoon for you.

I want to stay in bed today,
just lie all alone
under my crumbled sheets,
toss and turn
to drain my sinuses.

I'm positive
the world will not miss me
& honestly,
what's one less sick person
off the street
going to do
to change things
or even stop the sun?

They were strewn out everywhere,
all over the campground
lay naked firm-bodies
in every conceivable position.
The only audible sounds
were drunken snores
& the songbirds singing,
jumping merrily
in between the midnight revelers,
scavenging backpacks
for their morning meals.

Everybody wants
to be like Bukowski,
that drunken
drug-induced
crazed-scholar
born on the edge of existence,
who tested the poetic boundaries,
who spewed forth sacred *****
from his mind of brilliant depravity
& who loved the starry nights
& the suckling robins
of the early summer.

And pray tell me
my fellow sojourners,
how does one get like that,
get strung out
on this living
kissing heaven
& embrace hell
without
the use of
tasty liquid-vices
& those ******
****** injections.

******.

I died today,
yet the sun still shines.
I imagine the moon
will come up,
along with the stars,
and the nightlife
not missing
another
single-beat
of my heart.

I saw my future in the ravines
of his leathery face,
smiling toothless
with spilled bones all around,
he chanted & pointed skyward,
mumbling in ancient tongue.

It seemed the world stopped,
like we were both
waiting for a sign.
And we got one,
it was in the form
of a scarfed condor,
which flew above us
on mammoth
outstretched wings.

Some people don't believe
in such portals,
but I do,
I walked through one.
I licked the sun that day
with my own tongue
& tasted god flying.

Driving,
Petty on the radio.
A refugee,
I am,
not living.

My passions
dissapate like ice vapor,
melt like an ice cream cone
lying in the sun,
spreading
genuine sweetness.

And I love watching
the happy ants scramble,
frolicking & dancing,
running to and fro
in the sugary puddle,
licking their feet & antennae,
relishing in the good sweet fun.

I am no saint,
no scriptures will I write,
the sinners are long gone.

But you called me out,
rushed
at every moment
to get satisfaction,
for me,
to fill you up,
to quench
the same need,
spill my seed.

An accomplice I was
to your desire,
acting as if you
were made
in the same image,
an empty cup.

Darling,
sweet beautiful darling,
you are not a saint
either.
You
with your brown eyes
so dark,
so sad,
a brave front you paint
to cover
the deepest pain
I feel
I felt
it.

So sit,
sit there
tall,
stoic in the pews
and chant,
sing Alleluia,
give praises.

I promise,
I will keep you
alive
in my prayers,
it's all we have left.

And silence shimmers.

I insist,
I write best
when my heart's broken
and I'm sitting here
on my throne
contemplating
my next move.

There's a place where Martians go
when there's trouble
brewing at home,
it's hidden in the belt,
circles between the planets.

They tune in there,
use sophisticated equipment
to communicate with
their loved ones back home,
sometimes the notes drift away
further into space.

Lately, we've been picking up
increased transmissions,
the amount of traffic is incredible,
encryted-chatter speaking of a
universal movement
sweeping the solar system.

Our radio telescopes are
receiving similar messages
from the moons spinning
around Saturn & Jupiter,
some Neptuneons & Plutoneans
are even getting in on the act.
Activity on Venus & Mercury
is skyrocketing as well.

In fact, the highest levels of
electronically-posted poetry
is at the highest level since
the first interplanetary war
back in '73.

But it's really nothing
to get alarmed about,
'cause you see,
poets are always
restless & passionate,
screaming their raw emotions,
spilling blood on keyboards,
searching for a little
piece of comfort.

And no matter where
we come from,
we will continue
to war with our words,
trying to come to grips
with the joys & heartbreaks
of living through
this solitary life.

When I fantasize
about you,
I get frantic.
I lose my breath &
stutter on my semantics.
It's as if I come
under a crazy ***-spell.
I get heart palpitations
& a hard-on for you
that won't stop.
I drop to my knees
& play make believe,
like I'm right behind you.
If you only knew the outcome
& I'm sure you do,
you'd play too.

Every single one of them
took
a little piece of me.
It started out slowly
with my heart,
then they stole
a bit of my hide
& next,
they absconded
with a whole lot
of my soul.

In fact, so much of me
is missing now,
I don't even know
if I'm coming or going,
staying up heading down.

She is elusive,
stays hidden
deep inside her head,
battle-scarred,
damaged from being trampled,
a prime example of the meanness
of hu-MAN-ity.

But I still see magic in her eyes,
she cannot hide it,
no man can squander magic.

The hurricane was
bearing down on us rapidly,
windows were being boarded,
grocers were sold out,
water was being stockpiled.
The drunkards
under the burnt-out building
had stolen our goods,
had broken in
& just took all of our stuff.
Myers & pineapple
twisted my thoughts
and I lashed out,
cut one of them in the dark.
The morning after the tempest,
we found no one there,
not even a blood trail,
thought they might
had been washed
out to sea
in the storm surge.
The incident still haunts me.

True friends listen to your fears
when the chips are down.
They stand by you in your pain,
when everyone else scatters.
They take you for who you are
& don't pass judgment.

They cry when you cry.
They laugh when you laugh.
Sometimes they cry when you laugh,
sometimes they laugh when you cry.
Friends don't feed you illicit drugs,
they don't chug your weakness with you,
or fill you with self-doubt.

They stay true.
They pick you up
in turbulent times.
They face the wind with
you in the good times.
No matter what,
they believe in you.

And they do it unselfishly.
They do it with real
genuine love,
not that synthetic kind,
the kind
most people use
all of the time.

It's written
that Jesus
walked in water.

That's some feat,
I have a hard enough time
keeping my own
two feet
on the straight
& narrow sidewalk.

I guzzled liquid courage
a lot
& found out it wasn't real
'till I felt
the concussion of a grenade
and heard the whizzing of small arms fire
above my head
& medevacs.

Constantly she
visits me
in this
after midnight hour.
Her great power
speaks volumes
as she
consumes me
& together we
end up,
way up high,
riding furiously
on the skyrocket
of love,
sighing.

I have a fetish.
I call it her sweet dish,
she says it's her wishes
coming true.

I awoke
during the witching hour
& felt her presence.
A full moon
creept dim light
into my room
revealing
a ghostly
feminine-apparition
floating wantonly
above me.

I was terrified,
unable to move,
felt an icy grip
as this ****-spector
lowered itself
onto my lap.

Immediately I rose,
became scared stiff,
lying on my back
meeting the earnest demands
of this sensual-fiend.
The tempo increased,
the rising and falling
of this ravenous-being
was reaching an
******* level.

On and on it went,
hellbent on satisfaction.
I lay dripping with sweat,
breathless,
pushing my
hips harder and harder
into the air,
filling the
midnight visitor
with my hardness.

Simultaneously,
the ticking of the wall clock
stopped as
I exploded
a steady stream
into the shapely-mist.

When I finally
opened my eyes,
the sensuous-spirit
had fled,
disappeared
into the dark.
I was totally alone,
but the presence remained.

Outside, I heard
owl hoots &
something
howling at the moon.
That's when I remembered,
she said she'd haunt me forever,
come back and do me right
during the witching hour,
in the middle of the night.

And, I can most assuredly tell you,
there's nothing frightening
about these nightly hauntings.
In fact, I crave them,
every chance I get,
I look for ways to conjure her...

Pretty Lady,
you're super sweet
& one helluva cutie.
Certainly, that
book on beauty
was written
about you.

You've got the goods,
you're one nice-combo.
of both looks & brains,
I bet you drive,
all the boys
totally insane.

O Hot Mama,
I feel you, too.
You've been struttin'
around like a peacock,
puttin' out them **** vibes,
who knew I'd fall for you!?

I can tell
you just wanna give in,
give me your good lovin',
smack me with
all your tender kisses
& spread a little
bit of sin.

But Darling,
I gotta say,
I can't play,
I can't even make your day
& it's killin' me badly,
makes me
feel so so sadly.

O Sweetness,
don't you cry,
it ain't you,
it's all me,
but I just can't get started
all over again.
I'm done spreadin'
any more pain & I just can't,
I can't break another heart,
especially not yours.

Alone in the darkness,
I held on tightly
to myself
as my heart raced.

Feverishly
building to a crescendo
with heightened-breathing,
I kissed the sky
& painted
the air
a brilliant shade
of bliss.

(Then I watched a burning star fall
to its death)

O sweet angel,
to visualize
the roundness of crimson,
your deepest jade,
is such a sweet delight.
I do not fight you,
to see,
to watch,
your animal magnetism,
this disappearance of granite,
the glistening
of your pearly-whites,
is romanticism
at it's very best,
totally,
undeniably
*******.

Ice-pick-eyes
tell no lies,
I'm feelin' sick,
this throbbing of the head!

I ain't cryin' or even dead,
but caffeine's
a ***** to kick.

He was larger than life,
gregarious & humorous,
he loved the culinary arts
& never missed a meal.
Everything he ate,
was way over the top.
Incessantly,
he would gorge on
all the rich foods,
cram his mouth full
of cheeses and sauces.
Cheesecake and cookies
were his favorite companions.
What delicious comfort foods.
They helped balloon up.
He reached almost
a quarter of a ton.
So, it was no surprise
when his heart finally gave out.
What was shocking
was how he was reduced
to such a small amount
of funeral ash.

You should be
unsettled.
We've harnessed the light,
they've caged the sun,
put a lid on the split atom.

And yet,
they continue to fight.
It ain't right.
Be the people,
not mindless.
Spread some of it.
Poppa Cap.