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.

The world is at a standstill,
in a very weird equilibrium
when one enters a government office.
It's as if they have a monopoly
on mind control & boredom.
It's no wonder they love to tax
working class people &
**** their children, too.

I want to finger your thoughts,
roll them gently around
in my mind's eye,
listen to the breaths you take
& feel your body tremble,
then lick them clean
to taste your true essence.

Twelve days on the isthmus,
trudging through the gap,
we sliced & diced
vines along the trail,
through a world all its own.

Iguanas & butterflies
accompanied us,
along with the tarantulas,
toucans & monkeys.
Everything was in tune,
nature at its finest.

But the bearded-dudes
we encountered
seeemed way out of place,
different from the nature
that was around us.

They were unusually
focused, out of touch
with their long line
of saddlebagged-mulas
& fully-packed mochilas.

The automatic weapons
& machetes finished
off the picture
of these serious hombres,
the runners of the jungle.

We traded Marlboro's
& Johnny Walker Red
for some tea & sugar
& they waved us on by,
gave us safe passage
into Colombia.

We found them,
lots of them,
boiling
in the midday sun.
Bleached skulls
grinning,
some toothless,
some children,
most with a single bullet hole
in the middle
of their foreheads.
Some had them holes
in the back
of their cracked craniums.
We knew it wasn't the Mafia,
for this wasn't
their area of operations.

I remember her distinctly,
she wore green flannel & cargo shorts,
Che cap & a stuck sunflower,
her braids exploded from under it.

She was proud of her antler-handled side knife
& jump boots, traipsed around
like she was on the nature boardwalk,
I heard she stalked Sasquatch once.

That girl was
the consummate outdoors woman,
she knew all about trapping,
skinning & first aid,
could make water
spring  from the ground.

Her grin was infectious,
a true aura of love hung
like dander around her,
her sensuality screamed
silently from her twinkling eyes,
the color of azure.

I was with her for one summer,
then I moved out of her sacred-valley.
Every time I look at the stars,
I remember her campfires
& the times we spent
at Moondipper
in each others arms
tasting marshmallows.

The wonderful thing about technology
is the ability to achieve spontaneous combustion.

In the blink of an eye,
I can explode in sheer ecstasy
here alone thinking of you
& your sensuous ways,
the way you love to play.

O what joy,
to do this act all alone
in the seclusion
of my empty room!

Now, it seems emptier
without you here
to enjoy this
post-******
technological bliss.

O I miss your wet kisses,
the warmth of your touch,
so much!

She scooted along the checkerboard floor
collecting ***** plates
& refilling sweet teas.
I placed a double-order of fish tacos
& sat right next to the buffet of hot sauces
just to watch her toss her brown hair about
from under her pink pussycat hat
& lithe body covered
in delicious ink
& piercings.

The electricity
vibrates
between them,
creating overloads,
surges of energy,
releasing tensions
in maximum-abundance.

O boy, fiber optic
feels really great,
it seems so brilliant,
love at our fingertips!

But what if,
what if,
I want to
wet my whistle,
taste her
daintily,
paint her
town white,
feel her
heartbeat for real?

Guess, they're the
million dollar questions
that computers
cannot answer
that make us so poor,
so frustrated in cyber-love!

She's such a free spirit,
but ******,
the lava lamp
should have been a clue,
a dead giveaway
that she was everbody's girl.

I do love the light they burn,
but never ever did I think
that about her until now.
There was lipstick
smeared all over her face
& she couldn't even
look me in the eye.

And it's not the first time
something strange
like this has happened.
Two weeks ago,
she smelled
like men's cologne
& her ******* were missing.
She always wears *******,
seems like I'm the one
who's always crying.

Skeletal,
she had laid comatose,
thirty-six hours,
morphine tubes &  cotton swabs,
so cold to the touch.
It wasn't supposed to end this way.
I remember her in her better days,
before the cancer
had ravaged her *******,
skydiving over the Rockies,
Montana whitewater,
sailing the sound
between St.Thomas & St. John,
margaritas in San Juan.
She was the most brilliant light,
a beautiful soul,
truest fighter to the end
& I miss her,
pray everyday,
"May our little sister
rest in peace.
Amen."

O, I know most guys
would go with the flow,
explode with this sensual-energy,
possibly gloat,
bask in such nirvana.

And who's to say I don't?

O sweet darling,
with your magnetic-eyes
& your tempting thighs,
I am much more than
what I've been used for,
this human electrical device,
which may suffice
for the moment.

And please,
you can & you do,
turn me on
forever.

Glitz and glamour
Subterranean armed bandits
Streetwalker zombies

Mandolin harmonies
trailed up Bear Hair Gap,
echoed between
the chestnuts, hickories
& sweet blackberries.

Lodi & a bad moon rising
stifled the cool air,
wood spirits whispered
secret incantations
to the fairies & sprites
flying amongst the fireflies.

This is the sacred
Coosa place,
where bricks have names,
where the wolf man
drove his Impala
spooking summer campers
& where old blackie
got trapped.

Two are gone now,
one succumbed to the bottle,
the other still stalking hikers
near the Raven Cliffs
o'er near Helen.

The bricks will remain forever
'neath the phases of the moon
beside the maiden Trahlyta,
up from Blood Mountain.

My mind is forever playing
sensuous-tricks on me,
constantly,
I am engulfed
by your moist-tenderness,
crumpling my silken sheets,
hugging
& kissing my
empty pillow
& still lying here
alone.

I was her champion
once
she told me things,
said all the right lines,
melted me
into her her mold,
then boldly
left me blind,
wounded by
her lack.

And they say
the opposite *** gets burned,
while some treat us
like we don't have any feelings,
like there's a cosmic front,
must be a crusade taking place
against all the ills
laid upon their kind
by dastardly characters.

It's a gender-war
& I'm her dead champion,
a decorated sad veteran,
whose seen the elephant.

I wear a purple heart where
mine once beat, so
I think I'll go mercenary now,
cry my way
behind the scenes,
try the clandestine route
for serious love.

Flesh & bones
configured
at a molecular level,
my emotions are molded by time,
these hard knocks
& a temporal existence
begging for life,
to feel,
to feel real,
like I'm more
than just a ****.

We'd play
Dungeons and Dragons
for hours
in the bunker at night.
We all had special powers.
Some of them worked,
some didn't.
I miss those guys.
I wore a cloak of invisibility
so I could
come
back home
to write about it.
(I Thank God,
my cloak
& my lucky stars.)

Overcome with lust
Kissing pulling fast thrusting
Back to the workplace

She's absolutely delicious,
sweet like a nectarine,
light fuzz covers her
in all the right places.

I love the way she gushes,
so juicy like a ripe peach,
flowing in abundance,
heavenly-stickiness,
her face looking stellar.

She's very kind
& super fine,
teaches me
how to love her,
tasty like a cobbler,
I gobble her up
every chance I get,
it drives me
out of my mind.

She's definitly not a pet, but
rather a bowl of succulent fruit,
******* the size of peaches
with stout lovely-*******,
as hard as the pits.

I can't wait
to jam it with her,
I want  to make some
marmalade
of my own.

I saw a lady in the bazaar
with a melted face.  
Her nose was non-existant
like her lips.
One eye was brown,
the other glazed blue,
like a vulture eye.
A local told me
she was once beautiful,
a regular queen
who ******* her man,
the guy who threw the acid.

It falls like slow tears
Cleanses the whole creation
with her gentle sound

I lay
staring
at the spinning blades,
could hear your deep breathing,
it was almost a snore.
Our lovely-odor
permeated
the dimly-lit
room.

I lay
and bore witness
to the strewn clothes
lying in various places
around on the floor,
remembering your
wild-antics.

I lay
there
& for a brief moment,
it felt like only we existed,
then the sound of a radio
clicked on somewhere
down the hall,
probably six doors
away
from our
room.

O the mustangs stung like mosquitoes,
fast as lightning & thunderbolts,
liberators & fortresses,
hurricanes & tornadoes,
hell cats & bears,
invaders & dragons,
good grief Lord,
those mighty Gordons!

O wily foxes & quick lancers,
avengers & vindicators,
swordfish, barracuda,
some tuna, albacore.
Gladiators in the gauntlet,
zig-zagging & spitting fire,
spewing molten hot-lead,
bright-tracers in the night,
forever fighting
with their all their might,
bombing their daylights out
and into submission,
la morte, stone dead.

O they sank the Rising Sun,
'cause they had that *****,
battling against all wrong
& protecting only
what was right!

We have a possessed person at work.
She talks incoherently
& spins around in her chair
like a crazy girl.
Forever using the Lord's name in vain,
once I saw her floating to the restroom,
and it wasn't on a broom.
Flies seem to hang around her desk,
her breath sometimes smells like *****
and she has an aversion to crosses.
When you put all those facts together,
there's no way you can deny
the devil's inside her.

Two inches of aluminum separated me
from one ton of jagged-tooth man-eating fish.
I looked into its lifeless black eye,
and in an instant,
realized how insignificant I was.
FYI, when you **** in a wet suit,
it's a warm comfortable feeling
& a great way to relieve anxiety.

Passing judgment is subjective,
it’s in the eyes of the beholder.
You know it, don’t do it.
It goes something like you point a finger at someone
& they're four pointing back at you.
Like who makes anyone a judge & jury?
That’s right, arrogance.
It’s usually themselves,
spilling volumes about how righteous they are.
They’re what some label a smokescreen character,
a ******* flimflam artist,
holier than thou, you know the type.
They wouldn’t last ten seconds in a firefight.

Bottom line: trust no one, not even yourself.
I saw family members
give up their relatives
to make a buck.
That’s right, greenbacks.
A regular family-affair.
Imagine selling out blood for paper.
We called it a war on terror.
They called it Jihad.
It didn’t matter what anybody called it.
There was no God involved.
Just human nature & people pointing fingers.
The same old show,
the same old ****,
dogs & ponies
one upping each other.

O my little darling,
let’s drop by the coffee shop,
we'll have a quick hot-brew.
There's nothing like
a mug of strong Colombian!

Then we can head over to Kyoto’s,
we'll have some platters of delicious-sushi.
I really love the sashimi. 
There's nothing like eating spicy raw-fish
coated with that fiery-hot wasabi!

Hey you girl,
I don’t want to sound too pushy,
but it’s getting kind of late,
let’s head over to my place,
we'll mix up
a couple of slow screwdrivers.
There's nothing like
those tasty midnight cocktails,
I love sipping them,
especially with you.

O you’re my prefect date,
so scrumptious,
so true,
I think I love you!

I remember the day
so well,
young little me
standing patiently
in a long line
of other ice cream lovers.
I had my heart set
on a vanilla-filled
sugar cone
sprinkled
with chopped nuts.
I finally made it
to find
no nuts,
no sugar cones,
not even vanilla,
they were all out.
Can you imagine
my dismay,
the feeling
of dessert
rejection.
Heart-wrenching...that feeling.

I wandered
along the mountain path,
high above the lake,
watching the morning star
slowly rise
through the mist,
embarking
on another fine day,
it was glorious.

A warm vapor
synchronized my breathing,
it was surreal, me
hiking light years away,
on another planet
when brother & sister
strolled along,
two working-ghosts,
their huge-baskets
brimming full of beans.

Barefoot,
they passed quickly by
with only a grin & a nod,
disappearing behind me,
back into the clouds
floating above Atitlan.
It warmed my soul.

The fullmoon glow trickles
into the stillness
of my empty room,
where I lie awake,
naked atop cool sheets,
burning.

I feel your presence
wrapped around me,
warming yourself
with my wantonness,
my desire to be,
to be part of something,
part of something supernatural,
craving the same thing,
eternal love,
forever.

I never want only two,
three scoops for me,
double cherries on top
of each one,
pistachio,
chocolate
& vanilla.
Spill some nuts,
crushed cashews
all over the place,
I'm going to dig my face
into this delicious dish.

I've blasted my way
across the entire universe,
a member of a special operations team, we take no prisoners,
leave a wasteland behind us.

Once,
I stopped an alien invasion.
I single-handedly destroyed
an entire nation of grays
from taking over the planet Earth.
I was a hero in the cyborg wars, too.
I blew apart all of their starships,
& even unwired their motherboard.

Last month,
I defeated a whole fleet of pirates,
used my sword to cut body parts
& whack bearded-heads,
sunk a lot of their ships as well.

In fact,
every opponent
I've ever faced,
I've left belly up,
stone cold dead
behind my closed doors.

Traditional warmth
Mix of seaweed and tofu
Appetite whetted

We sat stupefied with the expats,
eyes wide open telling lies
between repeats of
La Bamba & Lady Grinning Soul.
Peter Gunn screamed sax
through the hypnotic-haze,
the place was a ******* rat hole.

Sticky seats smelt like
****, burnt toast & dead feet.
A one-ton greasy bartender
sat on a low stool,
drooled on his cigar
rather than smoking it.
He counted his dough
about every six minutes.

Shadows of waifish tired-women
floated by us like wispy-clouds.
With tricks hand-in-hand,
they moved in and out of
the proverbial back rooms,
an odor of primordial-slime hung.

This was what they called
the tropical-island high-life,
a swanky place where ten bucks
could get you an hour of *****-thrills.

It was actually a cheap-*** brothel
disguised as a night club,
tucked away somewhere
in the middle of nowhere,
the skankiest
of Never Never Lands.

It was by far,
the saddest place
I've ever visited on Earth.

We rode the endless plains
in supercharged
armored people carriers,
rolling like thunder
wasting not time,
which seemed to stand still
during the firefights.

We baked like sardines
in our metal box.
Some days,
we faced the wind
from the turret,
others away from it,
from the smell of burning flesh,
those dead pakoled-foxes.

We rode the endless plains
in supercharged
armored people carriers,
rolling like thunder
wasting not time,
which seemed to stand still
during the firefights.

In the Fatherland,
I found timeless memory,
the purest love.
Her blond hair glowed,
cute-dimples laughed,
azure eyes danced.
We visited the cathedral,
camped in Speyer
along the Rhine.
I learned all
about Bauchnabels,
baited hooks,
drank Pilsner.
We fished lakes,
ate potato pancakes
cooked by her Mutter.
She bought me a switchblade,
then sent me a dear Jon letter.

I walked along the fence line,
hands in my denim-jeans,
headlong into the warm-breeze.
Windmill-blades spun,
squeaking through rust,
wildflowers fluttered
as the sun bore down.

A flock of birds hung
on the top strand
of kinked barbed wire,
scattering as I approached,
spinning up
into a spiral above.

Cool-sweat dripped
down my spine,
reminding me,
reminding me of her,
my dream girl,
the sweat we created
in fields of clover.

The crows cawed,
mocked me,
reminding me
it was now over
and I,
I was all alone
in these empty fields of clover.

I am afflicted,
dreamy,
with vivid visions
like deja vu.
We're seated there,
in uptown Manhattan,
she's sporting platinum hair,
covered in golden fleece,
scribbling
cryptic poetry to me
underneath the table.

Her eyes turn azure,
screaming
daisies
over a plate of alfredo,
I am in a hurricane.

And from the corner of my mouth,
I drool streams,
seeking answers
from outside the box.

Does she feel
like I do?

You wore bandanas
like a ripened vigilante
& oh those darling bikinis
you wore
made Rio
look Mickey Mouse.

No words can ever describe
your baby blues,
I'll just say chilling.

And your swollen-buds
is what the romantics write about,
they use words like succulent.
delicious and tasty.

They were
very succulent,
delicious
and tasty.

We were the perfect fit,
I'm glad
you were honest,
but so sad to see you go.
******.

The smell of *****
trickled through the streets
immersed in honking
swirling in carbon monoxide
& hiding there
amongst the ****,
I handed the *******
a handful of nuts.

A noble
generous gesture
he quickly tossed,
& I pressed on,
leaving the beggar
to his own demise,
swimming between
lifeless black eyes
& mangy
barking
skeletal dogs
looking for
their next meal.

Up one side
& down the other
you crawled,
scenting me
with your warm desire.
I have been in *******
to you
since the beginning of time.
That means forever Darling.

I'm gonna take a hit,
wait...........................
............................­......
..................................
.......................­...........
that's better,
hold on,
I need some cashews
..................................
......................­............
..................................
yum,
gonna turn the lights down a bit
now,
hold on.....................
yum,
another handful of nuts
..................................
.........................­.........
..................................
gonna brush my teeth,
wait...........................
..........................­.........
...................................
that's better,
just a sec,
I want some more cashews,
hold on.......................
....................................
yu­m...........................
feeling sleepy...........
whew,
thanks for hangin'
with me
while I ate a few nuts,
good night man.

I always have dreams,
these spectacular visions
of mile high sand dunes,
skies blanketed with
millions of twinkling stars,
caravans disappearing
into the darkness
of the deepest pitch,
and me.
Me riding atop
the lead animal
searching,
finding my way back,
back to the
most beautiful woman
in all of creation.
You.

Beans and hot chilies
Packing a mean spicy punch
Wait for the odor

Nothing these days is truly failsafe.
You buy some Ultrathins and the babies might win,
even the Trojan horse had issues for the boys of Troy.
Fancy ribbed models can end up in shreds
& I've seen the reservoir tips burst.
But if you're still ***** & thirst for safe ***,
you should try different combinations
of tubed-latex along with 'the pill'
dispensed from
the fancy circular monthly-packages.
That's your best bet,
your best chance of survival.
If anything, don't be a dinosaur
thinking your living Jurassic,
this is about being prophylactic
'cause nobody knows
what killed those ornery
unprotected beasts.
The experts believe,
it was probably
a rare disease
that got 'em.

I was hung over you,
moving with you
in a perfect rhythm,
in a wonderful place,
a sacred place
where the sun
did not shine
& when you
reached for me,
grabbed
my pendulous orbs,
you squeezed
my light
deep into
your beautiful soul.

Your sighs
made me cry
with genuine joy.
Your pretty face glowed,
was as serene
as a calm summer night,
so sweet &
so delightful,
stunning &
magnificent.

A ******* kid growing up
in Rosewood all alone,
a world full of anger
& turf fights.

She learned early-on
how to use a butterfly knife,
showcases a horizontal battle scar
on her shoulder blade,
it makes her look mean.

She has the face of a dark angel,
elegant-Hispanic
with hints of ******
twisted on her full rosy lips.
She talks rude street-vernacular,
the same dialect used by
those  cracked gems
doing hard time
down in the big house.

She’s just seventeen,
and not the kind
found standing in
a Beatle happy-ever-after love song.
This girl plays tough,
she witnessed her first drive-by at ten,
dropped out at twelve,
she’d slit your throat for her tribe,
that’s rough.

And sadly,
she’ll never get out,
ever get to see
the wonderful things
most young girls dream about
that come true.

Looking back
years later,
I probably should never
have been on that flight.
Here’s the reasons why……

Shortly after takeoff,
and three cocktails later,
I spied a gremlin hanging out
on Engine Two.
Every time I looked,
smallish with green skin and red lips,
it smiled with an impish grin,
then went about its business
dismantling the cowling.
It seemed like
I was the only one who noticed
the little creature.

Other people were looking out
of the same side of the plane and
nobody was saying or doing anything.
Had they slipped me something?
Was the gin spiked?
Was I hallucinating?
Was God sending me a message?

Needless to say
we landed safely in Bogota
a few hours later.
It was a beautiful vacation!
But on my return flight,
things turned sour.
I was busted
for possession of narcotics,
spent six years in
a Colombian prison,
it wasn’t Heaven.

Like I said,
I probably should have never been on that plane.
Now looking back years later,
I think the gremlin was trying to warn me,
I wished I had taken heed,
given up the thought
of trafficking.

O Darling,
you would know
the real meaning
of burning-desire
if you saw me right now
lying here alone
in the dark
at 3:04 am.

Some might say,
I'm just an insomniac,
but I know better,
that's not it at all.

I'm having a
real live heart attack
thinking about you
& I want you to know
how strong it beats
when I cover myself
with thoughts
of your lady-love.