There's a great owl
outside
my closed window,
hooting
to the rhythm
of air conditioners
kicking on and off.
It's melody seems askewed,
as if it's toxicated
on the technology
of finely tuned thermostats,
seemingly
out of whack.
And when I think
about those places without
controlled climates,
I wonder if the songbirds there
sound better than a drunken
bird of prey here.

I've sipped the nectar of the goddesses,
kissed the toes of princesses,
licked the backsides of queens
& became intoxicated.

Now afflicted, I'm addicted
to divine feminine-power
forever
& loving
every single minute of it.

I just walked by her
& lost my breath.
O boy,
the incredible
feeling in my *****
for her
was immediate,
very palpable.

I mean dude,
I fell for her hard,
like somebody
pulled the rug
right out
from under my feet.
& I usually don't fall
for the ladies like that,
but man,
she was smoking hot,
ratta-tat-tat,
super-sweet.

I figured
it must have
something chemical,
because
I don't do drugs
on the first date.

O Honey Child,
I ain't no astronaut,
but I sure do
love, crave
that citrus-flavored Tang!

Hey Baby,
do you want to get naughty,
play around a bit
with my big monkey?

Go ahead Sweetie,
shake my hairy
Orangutan!

And Darling,
don't you be scared.
He won't bite
& I won't fight it.

Please believe me Sugar,
you're so uhhhhh,
so beguiling,
I promise,
just kiss me,
I'll be all smiles!!!

The froth on your perkiness
took me to the brink.
And ya know,
I think I like this,
kissing you in this hot bath,
a tub full of bubbles.

This is not my home,
I feel like I have come here
from somewhere else,
from a place beyond
anything we know.

I can feel the eyes of others
staring,
watching me,
watching my moves
as I go about
my own business.

It's kind of creepy,
the prying &
unwarranted stares.
Who are these people
& where do they come from?

This is not my home,
I am not from here
& they know it,
the nosey ones who stare,
who stare
& mind not
their own business.

She's so delicious,
exudes femininity
& lovingkindness,
wears the finest lace
with easy access.

In the ****,
morning,
noon & night,
I could dine
on her tasty dish
forever.

Like this evening
under a full moon,
we're going to delve
into each others
****** delicacies,
gulp the sacred wine.
I think I'll infect her
with even more
of my raw nectar.
She say's
we'll spoon
afterwards.
I call her
my sweet dessert.

O Lord,
how wholesome she is!

I walked in a sea of zombies,
circled a million roundabouts,
wandered
the streets in the reverse.
Nobody noticed me
with my two-week stubble,
my body odor emanated
as I cruised through the rubble,
waiting for twilight.

Dried baby llamas grimaced
while children played jacks
& men sold coca,
green bag mountains of it
stacked high like the cordillera
with chicken bones
lying around,
configured
in all directions,
it smelt magical.

And when
the sun finally fell,
I witnessed
the poverty stricken elite,
totally lost on their own
two feet.
I wanted to relate,
to feel human,
so I joined the winos
on a dark unknown corner,
sniffed the cool air
& could finally relate
to a time in space.

Tangerine splintered the pitch
& coffee lifted spirits,
hard
bold
aroma
wafted the hallway,
a cool breeze whistled
& wool tickled my chin,
each piggie wiggled
to remind them of existence.

Chicken-games with dogs
Spinning circles around trunks
Birds of prey waiting

I heard my mojo calling
in the sound of a million crickets,
singing their song in splendid harmony.
Under the smiling moon,
I saw shadows amongst the conifers,
in a place we once called home.

And now all I have
is your handmade dreamcatcher,
a bandana with your fragrance
imbedded in the paisley
& memories of you on me.

Spicy aromas
Cobbled streets and loud barkers
Mysterious people

In an age of plastic-alternatives,
brain implants & piercings,
augmentation & body building,
we can alter our states of being.

Little pills can fix headaches,
stop viral infections,
make our wood get harder,
even clean up bouts of acne.

We can paint our faces,
decorate our eyes,
replace body parts,
exchange them too.

But if we knew the cure,
could figure out the genetic code,
had the solution for stupidity,
we could change the universe.

I woke up cold
back on the slab
in my tiny cell.
My head was pounding.
The last thing I remember
before I dozed off
was Mister Suit
asking me baseline questions.
Then it was a series of flashing memories.
Sparks flying,
Screams.
Voices.
A thrashing body.
Bright blood splattered
against
the pale yellow walls,
a face without eyes.
I guess the pink pill worked,
what are those ******* control boys
going to do now?
Nothing's traceable.
Me 1.
Them 0.
It should be a wake-up call for them.
Long live Moonstone!
I know it's not over yet.

Cut knuckles,
cracked fingers,
shoulders on fire,
cramped feet
& a lower back that kills.

On the fringes in space
lurk the watchers,
with a darkness like leprosy,
disfiguring in their wake.

Once exposed
to the evil
in their hearts,
there is no cure,
but abstinence.

And that kills the poet.
And when the poet dies,
the world loses  
one more piece
of its soul.

Sooner or later
the time comes
to pick yourself up,
reach for them bootstraps,
pull up out of the dark mire.
Your fire smolders
& staying in the pit
keeps you so.....
but you have so much
more to live,
give yourself
a fighting chance,
flame on & fly away
into the sunlight.

Green grass & rolling hills create
the perfect scenario for
our outside adventure,
the one where
we lay the blanket down,
pop the cork on the Merlot,
eat a few sweet grapes
then get down
to the important business
of sensuous
outdoor *******.

There's nothing
like songbirds birds singing
& busy bees buzzing,
kissing your delicious-lips
under the brilliant sun,
feeling the gentle breeze waft around us,
sniffing natural fragrances & hearing
the sound of our body fluids tumbling.

To scream,
to call out
each other's names
at that special-moment
of our mutual-ecstasy
is unworldly,
so Godly & sacred,
even the Heavens listen
to our joy.

Imagine getting on
a big jetliner
for a holiday
& your flight
strays near Russia
with Putin at the helm.
Not a comforting thought,
huh?

She wore her bandana
like the bikers do
& walked with the aire
of a tiger
& when I looked
down,
I saw
the cutest toes
painted
the deepest rose.

She just looked at me
with a twinkle
& a wry smile
& she sauntered away,
the fragrance of honeysuckle
trailing behind her.

I saw you at the county fair
& I knew I had to have you.
Your skin so fair,
you walked as if
you were on air,
every eye was upon you
as the minstrel
played romance.

Our eyes spoke volumes,
I was consumed
by your loveliness
& quickly we agreed
to meet
secretly
in the shadows,
just up the cobblestoned street.

When the sun set
& the stars showed
their pretty little faces,
I gathered myself
& headed toward that place,
the place of our fiery embrace.

I melted again
when I saw you
& held you ever so close.
my fingers undid your lace
& I was swept into you,
determined to leave my mark.

The noises we made
startled the meadowlarks
& I filled you
with my good pleasure.

O how I love the county,
fair maiden!

Some think about it
more than others,
their minds
absorbed by forbidden fruit,
hungry,
ravenous,
whetting their appetites
day & night,
fighting sweet urges,
lost in their
imaginations,
those close encounters of
the sensual kind
that everybody thinks about
(some more than others).

My friend Billy loves
living his life on the edges,
he's married to a warrior-woman.
He told me once he loved warrior-women,
just didn't like being hitched to one.
I'm still trying to figure
out that conundrum.

Gently rock,
soothe me,
focus,
focus on us,
feel the flow
of me
inside
of you,
high in Heaven.

Jesus,
this is just swell,
I'm scrunched again
in 5A.

Hey there
Miss Flight Attendant,
this one's smaller
than the last aircraft.

Can't I get
a complimentary drink
or something else
to make me
feel numb?

I hate being
twisted like a pretzel!

Oh well,
at least there's a window,
that's some consolation!

She is so sweet, so very fine.
Pure succulent honey drips
from her moist layers,
my face covered
with chopped nuts,
*******,
her waves,
her trembling,
overwhelming,
I could eat her forever.

I want to spread myself
like marmalade,
cover her
with my wholesomeness,
from her crown
down to
her pretty little toes.

Lord knows
how sweet she is,
I'll spread peanut butter love
all over the place,
look at her scrumptious-face
& eat her whole.

Intergalactic
Meteorite-spore-plague
Apocalypse now

I swear I feel like I've been here before.
Looking at road ****,
the concept of deja vu is alive and well
at the moment.
I feel this welling building up inside me,
taking me back,
inhaling
a blend of thick diesel smog
& sweet sickly odors.

It's not easy to discern,
one must listen intently
to hear it,
but it's definitely
hidden in there.
A lovely girl
trapped
in a grown woman's voice.
It speaks of spicy make-up
& striped bobby socks,
Goldilocks & kitten tails.
And it makes
all the difference
in the world
to me.

We blew into bars
like we had nothing to lose.
Disco ***** & ***** tonks,
beach clubs or The Ritz,
it didn’t matter,
we were oblivious
to the surrounding action.

A brotherhood of unknowns,
we were usually drunk,
ready to strike
anywhere,
anytime,
we could even
drop in from the sky
on command,
sober.


Like cobras, we
had venom running
through our veins,
our hearts pure,
but mess with us,
heads would definitely roll.
I was good with
concussive-devices too.

Once I threw one
into a pit of vipers,
heard it explode,
saw the aftermath,
so drinking in bars ain’t ****,
I love cheap perfume.

I dive headlong into the fray
on a secret mission,
so exuberant
craving the lava flow,
the adrenalin fixation,
creating an *******
in the warrior-mind,
she covers me with
explosive pixie-dust.

Lust shakes my rivets loose
in a fiery demise,
'till I see
those Chakra-eyes
begging for release
again & again.

She's my mountain rose
& I'm her blue spruce.
I'd love to spread
her patchouli
all over
my ylang ylang,
then kiss her cypress,
give her a bit of my goldenrod
& lay in the lemongrass
holding hands
to view
the star anise
wasting thyme.

You grabbed your next fix,
got my fire started,
held me between
your luscious lips,
inhaled me deep,
you ****** me
long and hard,
got intoxicated
on my copious amount
of nicotine,
flicked my ash.
I raised your heartbeat,
made you momentarily
feel euphoric,
then you snuffed me out,
crushed me
into a mountain
of other
burnt,
spent
butts.

I watch you from every direction,
hang onto you every chance I get.

I never fail you with your desires,
my tongue is long & sticky.

I'd stand upside down,
if you wanted me to.

I can be anything you want,
can change quickly with your body heat.

I think so highly of you,
like a pedestal of the sun.

I think you're a whole lot of fun,
the sweetest of the very sweet.

Me not Tarzan, Me Chameleon.

Chastity wore pretty tiny flowers
in her spiraling dreads,
a fragrance of patchouli
wafted from her lithe form,
she was genuine spirit.
Her sister Divinity
loved summer dresses
and had even tighter dreads,
butterflies twirled
around her regal head.
They were the coolest sisters
on Mother Earth
& every time
they visited a forest,
they practiced
a wonderful habit.
They'd sing & chant
& dance & hug
aspens & pines,
chestnuts & sumacs,
hickorys & walnuts,
cherries & birches.
No joke, they even
hugged mighty oaks.

Single rounds crack
in foreign valleys,
hitting their mark,
it's stark reality,
a secret,
still going on,
far far away.

I have sensuous
visions of us
constantly floating
around in my head.
I see me
kneeling behind you,
buried deep
in another dimension,
gripping
your sweet hips
& you,
O you,
those primal sounds
make me crazy,
you in full bloom,
split,
receiving my all.

She loves it
when we go fishing,
enjoys all of the activities,
spearing & angling,
gathering & netting,
anything to get
down on the shore.
Her boy in the boat
always bounces,
craves more of my dangling.
She's a looker,
baits my hook just right,
I don't fight her
& it ain't no shrimp.
Nooooo,
no wimp here,
I always use my big long pole
looking for her sweet fishing-hole.
When I finally get there,
find the right spot,
I scrape her scales
from every conceivable angle
to uncover her tasty pearl.
I give her a whirl,
shuck the shell out of her
as she squeezes me hard
with her tight mussel,
ready to receive my roe,
a splish,
a splash,
a huge shot
of my hot cocktail sauce,
curling her toes.

I remember ancient history,
back in the day,
we'd hit the ****
then sing an Allman song or two.

Sometimes we'd pile into the 'Cuda,
cruise down to see the drag review.
Them guys were beautiful
under the influence.

One of those nights,
Patrick picked up a chick
that was a dude with a ****.
It seemed like it took him a long time
to get over it, but maybe
we were wrong.

I heard he came out of
the closet years ago.
Maybe he was trying
to tell us something,
or maybe we were
just too drunk & naive
to understand such things.

Whatever the case,
those days were fun,
a time for self-discovery
& drag queen shows
viewed under the influence
of tasty ****.

We figured it out,
my lifelong friend and I
over fish tacos & raspberry tea.
It was in her nose earring,
star radiance &
the hidden meanings
of life.

I gave you what you wanted,
took you to greater heights,
like I always did.

I fed you more & more & more
& more & more & more,
which I guess wasn’t good enough
for your cauldron
of your own dreams,
now broken.

The walk to the 'Brain Hole'
was shorter than expected,
but the muffled screams
from behind locked doors
I knew would be here,
so they were of no concern,
and besides,
the fix was in place.
These hooligans
had no idea who they
we're messin' with.
You don't just sign up
for the Moonstone Project,
you get selected.
Galactic insurrection
is a serious business
with serious consequences.
And besides,
I still had the pink pill
hidden in a safe dark place.
What, me worry
about a few brain ******* machines?
Not me.
This was going to be fun.

After the hunting trip that year,
Charlie was never the same,
some said he was totally insane,
'cause he now acted a little queer
at certain times of the month
& some other bizarre things
that were happening around him.

On full moon nights,
he'd take his shoes off,
throw on a plaid shirt & jeans
& stay out late,
would come home
early in the morning.
Usually his clothes
would be hanging in tatters,
ripped to shreds.

Other weird things
were definitely noticeable.
He had a sudden
strange aversion
to pure silver,
neighborhood cats & dogs
avoided him
& his incessant
high-pitched howling
in the shower was annoying
to say the least.

Whatever happened to
Charlie is debatable,
but calling him insane
may be a little over the top.
I wished the guys would stop.
I know plenty of them
who act the same way,
freaking hypocrites.

I'm in a jellyfish daze,
floating effortlessly
with stinging thoughts in mind,
still tentacled to reality,
so luminescent,
gelatinous
for you.

Driving my Ferrari,
I wrote this ditty
at over a hundred miles per hour.
Feeling the power of your
hot **** words,
I shifted into turbo overdrive
while slamming letters
on my cell phone,
maneuvering between
the slower traffic.

With an effect like that,
I know you are hotter
than the surface of the sun
& I'm intoxicated
with only half
of a pretty picture.

Everyday I crank into battle,
pedal my knobby-spaceship
to somewhere else.
I'm really nobody special,
just another universal-soldier,
a lover of rock and roll,
a fellow sojourner.

Achilles Last Stand
blasts through
my skull candy
in raw-melody.
I jump curbs,
hop ravines,
resurrecting the
meaning of clairvoyance.

I read her calling,
a true woman-child
crying for faith,
she masked her pain
with self-doubt,
swallowed anger,
hexed by *** & drugs
& lots of alcohol,
temporal killing pain-relief,
death-elixirs from liars.

And in my boldness,
my love for her indomitable spirit,
I shout to her,
telepathically send her
an important sincere message,
"Pick yourself up fighter,
cleanse your bloodied knees,
cloak yourself in flower-maille,
love yourself first
for protection
from you adversaries
(and there are many).
Carry the shield of courage
to blind the dark-world
with the next coming,
the coming of your own sun,
shine sister shine!"

I carry scars,
blood blisters
& leather callouses
& my lower back
aches like hell,
but I do have
muscles.

I thought about you this morning &
wondered about so many things.
Did you sleep well or spin in between your sheets,
dream of anything special, mind draw a blank,
drink strong coffee, spiced-tea or have neither?
Perhaps you’re a juicer, do you fancy
carrots or strawberries or both?

Enjoy two Eggs Benedict or three scrambled,
have whole wheat toast or rye, some nutritious
granola crunch with a bit of soy milk?
Did you partake in a quick steamy-shower or
draw a soothing hot bath with lit candles & soft-jazz?
I’m wondering if you wore your hair
up in a bun or let it fall down,
all round your pretty angel face?
Did you apply make-up or
go Au Naturel, frown
putting on lipstick & smile
getting dialed in
for the start of a brand new day?
Did you dress to the nines or go business-like,
perhaps a trip to the gym for a spot of yoga?

Did you drive your earthy VW-bug or rev up the sporty Saab,
take the trolley, ride the moped, or hop on a bike?
Where you late to your work or
did you get there early enough
so you’d have plenty of time
to think about me?
I think about that too.

In hiding
we cry
for a release
from the mundane,
with visions of greener grasses,
a better other side
beyond the thin veil
& with our remote dreams
tasting like anxiety
stuck in a throats,
we wrote poetry.