I see your kerosene fire
burning
on a distant shore
& there are no ships
coming,
you left me cold.

I rolled into that city
sometime after midnight,
had been fighting
my peepers from closing
since sunset.

I wore shades to hide my eyes,
sixteen hours on the interstate
had made me feel like toast,
less than human,
a bit comatose
& I needed a room.

My pointed boots
accented my slim jeans
& I moved through
the lobby with ease,
as if I were a ghost.

I could feel the disease
in that place,
bars were in the windows
& hookers glanced
around nervously.
The concertina wire
should have been a clue.

And without a sound,
I slithered back
to my spaceship
& moved southward,
onward toward El Paso.

With one more to go,
I floored myself
into hyperspace,
had to get
out of that place
fast,
vroom vroom.

Bent over,
she screamed
for my delivery.

Next came
the burial,
my leaning,
deep shots.

Then
came the milking,
her loss of leg function
& the licking.

She loves the smell,
me the tasting.

Now, we're pen pals
in space.

It's dead silence now,
except for the aquarium gurgling.
I can see the colored-lights
& the cigarette smoke is finally gone.
Every single lover has vanished.
The party's over,
I'm going to sleep
for a week
minimum.

In a meeting
with deadpan eyes
& boring guys
& all I can do
is think about
her fine thighs
such sweet fine thighs......whew.

Hurry up five....please hurry.

He slipped into their system
& operated just under the wire,
was planted to start the revolution.
Those foolish people,
foolish
foolish people
& all their selfish ways
were clueless,
totally clueless.
But their time
was growing shorter
by the minute,
soon they
would be stung,
stung by the harvest
they sowed.

And what's eye-opening,
so Earth-shattering,
is they won't even know it.

My baby is so fine,
very romantic,
she is the  genuine
religious fanatic.

On her knees,
she treats me like
her own personal god
& I am awakened
by her actions.

Looking up toward heaven,
she grips me firmly,
nods in fervent prayer,
moulding me,
shaping me
into a hard likeness,
her solid-effigy,
the ******* symbol
she craves.

Her ritual
& evident-desire
are perfect examples
of the sweetest-faith.

And as a just reward
for her handiwork,
I shower her
with my abundance,
fill her coffers
with warm
velvet treasure,
satisfying,
quenching
her beautiful spirit
'till the next time
she wants to see,
taste the signs
come forth.

O Darling,
let me travel,
ride high,
caravan
aross your succulent-skin
painted-beautiful,
wander  in the spirit
of your eternal soul.

So bright & vivid,
some of it plain India,
I am as a camel on the dunes
of an endless desert,
thirsty to be part of you,
lost in the pictures
of your eternal soul.

Like crushed grapes,
I want to bottle you,
savor you,
drink you,
guzzle you in gallons.
You,
you make me
go ape.

There is a splinter of rose
on the eastern shore
& I listen
to the ****** man
giving a report.
Crickets tone down
their symphony
in a dripping dew.
Somewhere in the distance
canines howl
a medley,
telling us
a new day is coming,
all is well.

A mountain downpour
plays its melody
on oaken boards
& I lie here alone,
starring into the pitch
humming a sacred tune
& thinking of you,
I kiss the cool night air,
remembering
the pretty blue flower
you wore in your hair
the night you left me
crying in the rain.

Every single kiss
between us
was combustible.

Starvation.

We were
driven by our need
to explode,
and we did.

In each other's arms
we trembled
with multiple
starbursts.

We were unable to speak,
and as we hit our peak,
you screamed
above the fray,
true lover's play.

Our intertwined bodies
were mad with lust,
rising and falling
in a glorious
sacred-rhythm
we succumbed,
I melted
in your furnace.

Tempest.

I filled you up
with meteor showers
and breathless
we lay
timelessly
panting,
bathed in the sweat
of gods.

A sheen
of
immortal love
dripped
from your tender,
heaving *******
against mine.

And yet darling
I remain intoxicated
forever
by your splendid
vision.

The attraction is real,
sublime,
it builds to a crescendo
awash in ultimate-passions,
we bathe in each others sweat,
breathless in our lost dreams,
wondering about hope,
then we disappear
into
loathing,
the dark place,
a self-made abyss
where
nobody,
nobody ever comes,
where we cease to exist,
'till somebody kisses us again
with the same fire
we hide deep,
deep in our aching hearts,
the one that yearns for true love,
wishing it would
find us
unbroken.

They'd sit around drinking beers,
talking about **** and ***,
the things they were going to do,
this and that,
some really lewd
& the more they consumed,
the ruder it got.

I was mainly quiet,
usually just asked for another.
It was times like that,
times when us boys
sat around and got drunk
thinking about women
& I hated being a dude.

The code is
in their tweets,
playfully,
a thousand voices sing
to greet
the coming
of the morning star.

I have to keep her clean,
make sure all her parts
glide together smoothly.

She feels so nice
in my arms,
I rest her little ****
against
my strong shoulder,
load her up,
squeeze her trigger
with a delicate-finger.

I love the way
she gently
bumps into me,
spitting quick hot-shots,
it's totally *******,
makes me feel
superhuman.

O, this love affair
between her & me!

She's the cleanest,
the prettiest weapon
in the entire armory.
We have so much fun,
my gun and me,
can't you see?

We're killer together,
her & I,
I could cry,
I think I'm in love
with her metal anatomy.

I wished cigarette smokers
would pick their own butts up.
Those lazy ******* have no idea how
much trouble they cause us soldier-guys.

24/7 in all kinds of weather,
we’re out policing up the grounds.
Sometimes it’s raining,
sometimes it’s hotter than hell,
sometimes it’s freezing cold.
Regardless,
all of this monotony is *******,
it *****!

I’d love to stick my jackboot
up all them smoker’s other butts
for being so lazy!

We rode on endless ribbons,
driving through rain-soaked jungle,
low clouds enveloped the countryside,
steam painted the glass.

It was a million degrees
on the inside & not a single
window was open.
Body odors wafted
throughout the cab,
while pigs & chickens
made the usual noises,
babies cried & the locals
murmured in hushed tones.

I was the only ******
lost in the seated crowd
without a cell phone.

There was no way I could make a fuss,
for I did not speak the language
& they'd never understand
a single word anyway.

When you engage
in close quarters combat,
it ain't pretty,
it ain't nothing like Hollywood.
The blood looks more real,
the screams sound more anguished,
the smoke smells diesel.
Things move rapidly
in slow motion,
hand signals lead the way.
If you have to use your bayonet,
it ain't like slicing up a watermelon,
there's real bone in there.
And if you waste a second
staring into their lifeless eyes,
the haunting memory
will last you a lifetime.

Ronnie belted out lyrics
concerning simple men
and how we should feel,
but gosh **** it,
it just ain't that simple,
life ain't no song,
it's just not that easy.

We've been set up
from the beginning,
we're genetic freaks,
we have to carry
big ***** around
& face the brutal world
with a warrior spirit.

And how can we cry
with such big *****?
They swing, they hang
down so low,
it makes it rough
to even walk!

And for sure,
weeping would certainly
ruin our tough-guy reputation,
so we just stuff it,
& stride quietly undercover,
squirming with indignation,
carrying our heartbreak
like a bad disease,
'cause we're unable
to squeeze out
any real tears
in public.


Oh you ladies,
I feel for you, I really do,
but I got bigger ***** &
I can't even cry a single lick,
it makes me feel sick inside,
like I'm hiding.

It's the first day of the
proverbial rest of my life,
I'm a year older,
a year wiser,
I have my list of resolutions,
hopes still tucked away.

But how sad,
I don't feel any wiser,
I still feel the same.
And yet, why can't I
get these things done?

How real, I let
the drive of the gravy train
cause more broken dreams,
create even more pain.

Oh weell, I'm not one to wallow in the
proverbial mire,
but it does seem,
I waste alot of my precious-time
looking at these wise-proverbs
for my answers.
Why does feel like
I always look for wisdom
in someone else's life
of mess-ups & gaffes?

The reasons seem elusive, but
I guess I can't waste any more time
lying here alone thinking about it.
guess I can't take life too seriously.
I have to just laugh,
puck myself up, seize the
proverbial one less day &
use whatever time I got left
to live whatever dreams I got left.

Some might say my head's always in the gutter,
but what do they know of such pleasures,
those sensuous treasures denied
for prim & properness.
And to deny the sacred,
to lie in chastity,
when you'd rather
lay in the clover,
is against the very nature of love,
given to us
by the glories in Heaven above.

I'm in love with a dulcimer,
she feels good in my hands,
I finger her strings
& she loves me back
with her sweet melody.

There's a place I go,
where stones cannot break
my brittle bones,
where hate cannot create
a broken heart,
where love stains
my being.

I am safe here.
A chrysalis,
transforming
my raw emotion
into endless-verses,
written-words
you can read,
emoting me
in my safety.

I wake up alone
feeling intimate thoughts
& I fall asleep alone
feeling intimate thoughts
& everything in between
seems lonely
& lacks intimacy.

Draped over you,
I whispered
my
steady-stream of warmth
inside
your flood.

It's truly a happy place,
scores of turistas
sitting
under the relentless
sun,
freedom club warriors
inhaling fifty-year-old anejo,
gulping those mezcal stingers
& imbibing golden
beverages
believing every girl
named Lupita
professes
true love.

Hauling *** on I-10
with a billion galaxies
exploding
in an array above me,
I descended on Deming,
crystal jewel city
twinkling madness,
a desert oasis
where nobody exists,
except super eights
and day inns,
barred prisons
capturing
exhausted motorists
& some are ***** houses waiting.

Remembering your honeysuckle breath
& driven by the sweet taste
of your dew,
I followed heaven's twinkling lanterns
to your secret garden
& in the cool of the night,
we made love
to the sound of cicadas,
bathed in the fragrance of jasmine,
glistening in each other's honey.

I've killed
millions of them,
fallen
inside my car
from the bottle
& standing too,
outside,
in the jet stream
counting stars.

Fleeting beauty
fluttered by me,
an iridescent cutie
floated so close,
I almost kissed her,
then she was gone,
hiding somewhere
in the flowers.

It's ******* humid again outside.
The sweat is dripping,
streaming down my back,
it feels like slippery ants,
powderpuff.
There was a time
when you couldn't wait
to ******* brine.
You'd rip my pants off,
delicately.
You had *****
bigger than most guys,
I loved them
swinging
between your milky thighs.
The gutteral sounds you made
told me you were sunk,
so smitten,
in a dream state.
And when
I tasted our elixir,
you became lost
in another dimension.
Do you hear my calling?
It's ******* humid again outside.
I want to swallow us
whole,
you beautiful holy child
with wicked
sienna eyes.

Not so idyllic
O, I remember oh so well
Needle pulling thread

I am in touch with myself,
especially in
the wee hours of the morning.
That's when I feel closest to you,
lost in fiery imaginations,
wishing you were here
to feel the heat
created
by my frictional
thoughts of you.
O Baby Doll,
You're so hot,
I'm burning up
in you.

Is it so much to lie
here alone
spreading rumors,
begging,
craving to be
enveloped
by your warm sweetness,
watching
cigarette smoke
curl,
spiral upward
to form grey clouds,
be captive
to your viral charms.

'Twas a single flower
that enraptured
my fiery heart with love.

So colorful & radiant,
I ran my fingers through
her lovely soft-petals,
swirled her sweet
intoxicating-fragrance,
& started
the greatest romance.

'Twas a single flower
that enraptured
my fiery-heart with love.

They speak
a different language,
so barbaric
& yet
still alluring.

I am so attracted
to their **** pointed ears,
to the color of their alien-skin,
the far hot fashions they wear
& the way they interact,
it's tribal.

They rival all foes,
can be quick on their toes,
melt you with just one look
from their extraterrestrial eyes.

The only trouble with them
is that ****** cloaking device,
the way they constantly use it,
disappearing at will,
playing mind games,
which drive you
virtually insane.

I floated down
the rocky ridge
zephyr-like
in a trance.

Nearly touching the stars,
I counted llamas
scavenging
the maize slopes.
It was pure solitude
there,
above the navel
of planet Earth.

Scooting on
alone,
I listened
to my breaths,
felt each beat
of my pumping-heart
& forgot about
life for a moment
back in the world.

O darling,
fill your wondrous-mind
with the beauty
of my rosined bow,
as I finger the strings
with warmth
& vibrancy
you do know
the feeling,
the kind that floods
& burns your flesh
with that hypnotic
sweet-****** tune.

Traces of beauty
still linger
on her sullen face.
I am told,
those malachite eyes
& high cheekbones
one mesmerized
all the men.
But now, nicotine
stains her fingertips
& Jim Beam
is her constant friend.
I wished I had known her
in a previous life,
before cigarettes
& bottled-boys
took her down.

Skies are cracked
in vivid oranges,
a splash of red
& pinkish hints
explode.

I saw the moon die,
it silently
disappeared
in a sea of azure
below Heaven.

Mica-waves kiss
the shoreline,
a perpetual union
enacted under the
shrieks of the terns
& my sad mind
returns to
my sweet
thoughts of you.

I wish you knew,
it's so comforting
to know darling,
I see the same sun.

The dude wore
a desert-cammie boonie,
cut-off cargos
& chain-smoked Camels.
He was a walking billboard, too.
On his right calve,
an inked rattler
lay coiling,
buzzing,
"Don't Tread On Me"
& on his left
was etched
the *******,
spewing,
"**** Iraq!"

God, I loved him.

The scene was exquisite,
tender pink folds
covered,
dripping,
with the raw
essence of life itself.
It takes my breath away,
and still does,
Darling.

I have no remorse,
but if I did,
it would be
the kind
felt between
the tectonic plates.
For I have no control
over shifts
in the great creation,
this place
we call home.

Many a noggin
had been saved
by wearing
layers
of woven
carbon fiber.
"Put your helmet on son,"
he was told,
but he didn't listen.
His nickname
was Silly Rabbit.
Go figure.
Peaking from his hole,
he lost the whole top of his head
when a single round
grazed it.

I hear the pitter patter,
the incessant tapping,
the rising and falling
of fingertips
emanating
from cubicled walls.

And my mind drifts
to more pleasant times,
to the rhythm of your heart,
so steady,
so alive.
It seems like eons ago
that you rocked my world
with your sweet kisses.

And it's times like these,
times lost to sheer boredom
that I drift,
dream about the moment,
the moment when
our eyes did meet,
locked in each others arms,
counting heartbeats.

It began with a glance,
then a gentle brush.
You gasped as my palms
met your chest,
felt your diamond tips
through cotton.
To see your eyes roll back,
your precious lips part
& your knees grow weak
was enough for me.

I could smell your musk
through you jeans,
you felt my reaction
through my own &
we both reached a
mutual explosion without
the benefits of bare skin.

That's when you know
you've got something good,
when you can satisfy
one another
fully clothed.

I woke up with bleeding feet
this morning
& thought,
Oh my God,
look Ma,
stigmata!

Then I realized,
it was only the brambles
I walked on with bare feet
while dreaming
in the forest.

Thank the Lord
for forests.

I lie here
alone in the darkness,
an empty goblet
in my hand,
with hazy brown eyes.
The taste of Merlot
swirls
in my mouth,
and my beating heart,
though numb,
hurts.
And through the wall,
I hear the static of television
next door
& I wish I were there,
lying next to her,
the single lady
with porcelain pale skin
I saw checking in
just before midnight.
I wonder if she feels
my quickened breathing
when I grip myself
in fantasy,
thinking of her
own loneliness.
(She is mine).

When bad **** happened,
we had a saying in the service,
"**** It, Drive On."
Spending too much time
on thieves just feeds them.
Once a violater,
always a violater.
Anybody who steals poetry
is pathetic anyways.
That in itself is reason
enough to be thankful
for who we are.
Besides, it ain't like
we're going to send
out the poetry police
to change these weasles.
They live in a trap already.
F. I.D.O.