We sat pow-wow-style
exchanging our war stories,
admiring the ****-filled room
full of swirling nicotine-smoke.

We joked with each other,
wondered about
loose lips sinking ships
& figured it wasn't these types
that sunk such vessels,
these ones ruined lives.

Waifs & wisps floated
miraculously about
while cheap perfume &
broken English
wafted our senses.

Desperate dripping
honeycomb-eyes
searched for
potential customers,
rot gut whiskies flowed
& disappeared to ease
the ******-tensions.

Everyone was there
to either ****
or to get drunk
'cause the
decor & atmosphere
literally ******.

With skies bursting madly,
we sat on the veranda
hugging our bodies,
searching each others eyes,
crying.

You sat there stoic
& with me so heroic,
we kissed to
the tune of rainfall
& teardrops.

Sadly,
though I tried,
I never did learn French,
but your English was perfect
like this memory.

Dem white egrets
sure are skittish,
dey fly wildly
away.
But nawt
dem blue herons,
dey gawt bigger *****,
stay fisin' right dare
along da shoreline.
You should hear
dem gulls
laughin' at
all of dem,
and dat risin' sun.

Honeydew wine water,
a cool refreshing stream.

Peaches & cream,
succulent like
rare corn-fed beef.

Wildflower honey
& peppermint sticks,
the finest of teas,
so invigorating.

What do you taste like
fine lady,
pray tell,
please.

My appetite is wondering,
these taste buds are
screaming
to know
your flavor.

It’s been a weird day today,
the noon appointment
lasted nearly four hours,
I don’t even remember the return trip.

Ever since I got back to the office,
there’s a constant ringing
in my head,
people seem to be moving
in slow motion,
their eyes look buggy,
I don’t feel right.

And when did I get a
triangular tattoo on my temple?
This is really getting weird,
I’ve heard about such things,
I need to report a possible abduction.

My back was taut there,
I stood rigid,
hard as granite
& closed my eyes.
I kissed,
I licked
the frozen rain.
I hugged,
I squeezed
the gale force winds.
I fingered,
I cupped
the zephyr
at six thousand meters.
It was cosmic,
totally *******,
genuine nirvana
& breathless too.

The mockingbird does sit,
mocks me along the path,
hence its name,
the funny winged-******,
it is what it is,
and me a crouching tiger
& sometimes I indulge
the drunken monkey.

Are things really that bad,
can we really not face another day,
count our lucky days,
be full of thankfullness!?

I mean it's not like
we're landing on
the beaches of Normandy
this morning,
hopping a freight to Auschwitz
to shower,
dressing warm to hunker down
at the Bulge,
gearing up for
a hike in Bataan
or stripping down
to catch some
bright rays at Hiroshima.

You see,
things could be
a helluva lot worse,
let's be grateful for living!

My corned beef tasted like
Chateaubriand today
and the sun wasn't yellow,
it was golden
& I am not myself,
these feelings.
Oh these ******* feelings.
Nothing is the same
since I met you,
I want more.

I climb
the walls
thinking
about you.
And it's better
in the hot shower,
so steamy,
so dreamy,
me holding you up,
with your back
against the wall,
floating,
suspended on Heaven
to receive
my droplets
of pure love.

I watched you from afar,
knowing,
knowing about my curse,
I am forever married
to the other demons of the night.

I fight my urge,
the urge to
**** your life from you,
to make you all mine,
my slave
for my own personal delight,
forever.

You are so fine,
the prettiest specimen of womanhood
my eyes have ever seen,
you set my cold heart on fire.

To rob the world of such beauty,
such poetry in motion
for selfish reasons,
would be dire,
bring dishonor
to our entire league,
our league of
hnorable bloodsuckers.

It's just my luck,
to fall in love
with such a cutie,
makes me hungrier,
lust for you more.

O darling!

I'm a volcano,
can spew molten lava,
play with me Darling
& you're definitely
going to get burnt.

And still,
you want
some of my heat,
get knocked off
your sweet
pretty feet?

Then go ahead
Miss Reverence,
pray to the Kona-Gods,
I'm starting to smolder,
gonna blow my top off,
just for you!

I am surrounded
by silent bamboo.

There is no growl
coming from tiger's toothy grin.

A neon blue butterfly
is not at all startled
by the flying red dragon
descending from gray.

Mister Samurai and Miss Geisha
smile affectionately,
while muted love birds tweet
near  
the angry
crab-warrior.

I listen,
I listen
and I hear
the petals falling off
the chain of flowers
blaring.

I find magic in things,
in things
here.

I was unborn
when the psychodelic bus
left the station,
but I was told about the trip,
the wild flowers
& mystic smoke,
the electric music
that blew minds
& glass tubes.
I heard it was groovy,
that it moved hippie-souls
into a positive-karmic state,
a place I wished
we had stayed.

You reach out to touch somebody
and they're not really there,
only words
spiraling through fiber optics,
they can't mend a broken heart.

A soft kiss & the taste of her
is a real start, every night
I witness the constellations,
wishing to see another star,
fall to Earth.

I wish
I had the cure
for broken-heart
outbreaks.
I’d make billions.
It’s pervasive & so widespread,
like an epidemic,
I’d always have sad-customers
to feed my bank account.

I wonder if
Orion knows,
or even the Seven Sisters,
just how often
they've been crooned about,
by many a forlorn
& starstruck lover.

In verses &
in rhymes,
millions of lines
crying love,
the heartbreak
of our times.

I marvel.

So twinkle, twinkle on Orion
& you my Seven Sisters,
you dearest twinkling friends,
shine brightly in the pitch,
continue to give us hope,
to give us something
to still believe in,
to make our lives
more richer.

O Dear Miss Molly,
can you meet me?
Can you meet meet me
in the upper hallway
after supper,
and begin
a lil' sin?

And O Molly,
can you please wear,
can you please wear
your cute
French outfit
without your
******* on?

O Sweet Miss Molly,
I'll unscrew the bulb,
sweep you
off you feet,
playing deeply
in the shadows,
be your loving butler.

Icy winds blew
along the wharf,
as three men mixed
for a quick conversation,
exchanged money
& a loaded gun,
then dispersed
like the ocean spray.

Later that night,
Davy and Ian were shot
point blank in the face,
with no witnesses
but the gulls shrieking
above the dockyards of Belfast,
a place where some paddies
pay with their lives.

Wandering the ridge line
alone on high alert,
I kept my head on a swivel
as I moved down
into the humid-cool-mist
toward high camp.

Boulders strewn about
the size of Volkswagens
littered the landscape
as I walked
cautiously
expecting to see
Teradactyls in flight,
scavenging for their
next meal.

This place was the real deal,
barren, rugged & brutal,
the place where flying dinosaurs
could ruin your day.

It's no wonder most
people never come up here
to play. Alpinists say
they love it that way,
the fewer the better.

But I have my doubts.
I read something somewhere
about being able to outrun
your mates in the event
of an aerial carnivore-attack.
'Cause out here all alone,
I was an easy meal,
a sitting duck,
fodder for those
vicious-creatures.

I was overjoyed
when I saw the yellow speck
of my nylon tent.
I jumped with happiness,
thanked the mountain-gods
for my safe passage,
warm soup & gossamer feathers,
a restive-stronghold from
hungry reptiles!

Often I think of Billy,
with his great white eyes
& his tats,
arms full of grinning devils,
scorpions & pentagrams.

He was a hellacious gunner
& he loved to use the kabar
& we missed him
when he rotated
back to the world.

Often I think of Billy,
with his great white eyes
& his tats,
arms full of grinning devils,
scorpions & pentagrams.

Flow anticipation
Her eyes look up pleasantly
Lovely sweet suckling

I watched her disrobe from afar,
mesmerized was I
hidden amongst the papyrus
as she stood bathing
in the cool Nile crystal waters.
As beautiful as all the Heavens,
her skin glowed milk
below her burnt
cocoa ringlets.
Goddess cheekbones
graced a delicate smile
of teeth like fine jewels.
The curves of her hips
were finely shaped,
sculpted from
the prettiest Roman marble.
Beautiful acorn-*******
adorned
her delicious
apple-shaped *******.
A trace of dark wool
enveloped her flower
blossoming
between fine firm legs,
made from
the stoutest of cedar.
I stood silent,
watching in awe,
as her delicate
fingers circulated
her moist fineness.
And when she sighed
in bliss,
I released
my own satisfaction,
kissing the air &
swallowing her fragrance,
trembling
downwind
from her sweet Jasmine scent.

We walk like vapor-genies
in old growth forests,
ghostlike & elegant,
we move
like true fairytales,
gnomes whittle the way
for us
past exploding ferns.

It’s true,
we have seen the rain
coming down in torrents
along blue ridge trails,
fallen logs strewn about
like matchsticks,
fungi licks our shins
while lightning cracks
thunder like bullwhips.
I love moments like that…….
I hear Creedence every time we go.

And didn’t you know dear friends,
it’s spiritual medicine
for restless souls,
like my fellow companions & me.

We were serious lovers,
& so reverent,
the two of us
both flowed strongly
with the sacred spirit.
Regularly in silent adoration,
I'd invoke my request,
plead for satisfaction
& gracious her,
kneeling humbly
in obedience,
my beautiful dutiful idolizer
with diligence & determination
would always make
my heartfelt-prayers
come true.

O Darling,
I have heard our sounds
reverberate,
like the tinkling
of fine crystal,
the cascade.

O the releasing,
such moments
of fine-euphoria,
those waves of
sheer passion
& to have survived,
to be in *******
to you
forever.

This time of the year
my sinuses keep me awake.
I drain one side
then flip.
Drain the other side,
then flip again.
It's a ritual that seems
like it has no end.
Jesus,
I need to find a local honey
to stop this madness.

My mind races endlessly,
especially in the wee hours
of the morn,
when all is quiet,
when I lie
alone in my bedroom,
contemplating.

Like clockwork,
my eyes pop wide open
& I visualize sacred
sensual pleasures
of her
lying in sweet repose,
& me
a mouthful
of her pretty flower
curling her toes,
bathed in a flood
of her raw-emotion.

Lord knows,
I'm in love with
modern technologies
& make no apologies
for the penning
of such passions
between her and I.

Softness of their bleeping melody
echoes through the canyon walls,
etched by millennium
the sweetest sound,
spreading calm
through cycles
of raging-time
herding on.

She painted her toenails fuscia
& O,
the things she could do
with her pretty feet.

Do you hear the thunder, Grasshopper?
I am it's soft whisper
wrinkling your ear,
the chill that runs
down your spine.
I am come
& I beseech you to listen.
I trace your footsteps
when you're not looking,
carry all the keys to heaven.
I can bring you hell,
smile behind the knife,
can **** with a borrowed sword.
The plum I will burn
to save the peach.
And I will resurrect a corpse
to raise an army of souls,
for I am the Lord of eternal darkness,
I breath the ancient arts,
I am a shadow,
I can strike
when & where
I want to
& you cannot stop me.
Do you see the lightning, Grasshopper?

I was so beautiful to them,
they always relished
in the sweet-place I loved,
sacred & delicious.

I licked the dew off lotus petals
& they yelled to god,
actually screamed my name
in reverance,
talked about love
& the way I moved my tongue,
used my body in such
wonderful configurations,
meant to meet their wanton demands.

I was beautiful to them at least once,
but what white lies they did speak,
and sadly I'm a sucker,
a fall guy for liars,
who lie underneath,
spread themselves all over,
like smooth creamy butter.

Now I know
how a vampire feels
when he meets the stake.
It ******* hurts.

We once wore tie dyes,
smoked herbage,
all styles, all kinds,
it blew our minds.

Swirls & waves,
Colombian & Mexican,
a little bit of Thai,
the stick.

We were walking
kaleidoscopes,
amateur-gurus,
electric experts,
explosive flames,
so vibrant,
so vivid,
energetic & dreamy.

And when coupled
with some Zeppelin,
the Stones or Geils,
we were
the
coolest humans on Earth.

Lying & kissing,
her tenderness
exposed.

I travel earnestly,
gliding, sliding
north to south,
savoring my
return trips
down to tight-***,
then up swirling.

I nest inside
her flowery-folds,
inhaling beauty,
sniffing
succulent-fragrance,
so raw & inviting.

Boldly
kissing &
push-pulling,
I lick tenderly,
some flick-plucking,
exploring &
now thrusting,
increasing tempo,
I hear her breathing
heighten,
reach a higher level.

O her
intermittent
soft sighs,
she closes her eyes,
thighs trembling!

Her rock-hardened tips
swim her breast-ocean,
& wonderful back rises
up in arched-rainbow
as she reaches
a wild-crescendo.

Shuddering,
flooding &
curling her toes,
she screams, "Good God, Alleluia!"
& I know I've reached Eureka!

We lie breathless,
kissing
in repose,
aglow in a beautiful
sweet-nirvana.

I'm not really good
at calling people names,
I've been called so many,
I would not know where to start,
So quite frankly,
ir's better to just be polite
& not rude,
like some unhappy folks,
who are mad at the world,
calling people names
or being rather rude.

O why
be so sad,
so downtrodden,
feel so depressed,
like you've fallen?

It could definitely be a lot worse,
the hearse could be heading your way,
I hope not......well......

Certainly I do confess, things aren't perfect,
but who said they would be?
Like, we've got the world by the *****,
we need to take it by storm,
shut this computer down,
bundle up,
go outside to play,
take a hike,
count our lucky stars.

Let's do it tonight!

You might just
catch the Borealis
as a bonus.

That should make you happy!

I always knew Jimmy
was a bit of a strange duck,
but like
***,
in love with a blow-up doll,
that took the cake,
guess he was half-baked.

Jeff carried
a deck of cards,
all aces,
all spades
& he had a habit of leaving
them in the strangest
******-places.

I can honestly tell you,
fear is real,
the rumors spread,
nobody in our sector
ever wanted to play cards
with Jeff.

I've been told
there's a place
called Heaven,
where the sea
meets the golden desert,
mountains rise up
& tall cedars kiss the sun.
And in this place,
anise-spirits flow
& pistachios grow
in abundance.
Angels exist there,
honey-flavors drip
from their pretty mouths.
One in particular,
has the sweetest lips,
like baklava,
I am intoxicated.
They sing to me
songs of hope
& I am swept away,
swept away to that place
along Mideastern
shores.

This silence,
this incessant silence
drives me mad
like the drippy faucet
that breaks the night
I cry.

I hear the drone
a mile away,
the endless stream of traffic,
truckers & autos
pushing on in
the stillness
of a winter morn,
no sun to guide them,
just endless rows
of highway lights.

I fight the loneliness
with my woolen blanket,
realizing
my feet are cold,
listening alone.

Our whirlwind extravaganza
started out innocent enough.
Jimmy & I were jukebox heroes
shooting some eightball,
guzzling a few pitchers
of the golden liquid,
specialty hops down
at the microbrewery.
Minutes fades into
what seemed like forever,
faces got bigger than disappeared.

One thing led to another,
we ended up three counties away,
waiting & watching
for the alien abduction.
Four teenage drifters
we had picked up
sticking thumbs out
were hanging with us.

One by one
familiar-voices
faded into the surf,
and as the sun began to rise,
I found myself alone
in my auto with an empty tank,
two flats & a scar
on the back of my neck.

It was extra cold this winter,
continuous ice floes
danced on top of the swirling rapids
near Munson's Creek.

As the stars disappeared,
the sun cracked
the eastern horizon,
I had been out all night
setting the extra traps.

My camp was set earlier this year,
near the largest dam of the
big-toothed water-creatures,
I hoped to trap
me some bigger beavers
this time around.

The pelt harvest was quite significant
in last year’s haul, but now
the boys down at Johnson’s Mercantile
had placed an order for twenty-five more.
I planned to make my quota
before the spring thaw.

I was getting lonelier than hell
in this frozen wasteland.
I really missed my darling Mae,
if she only knew how blue I was.
My dog was getting homesick too.

Zona Rosa bliss
Tequila kisses frolicking
Headaches in the morn

I kayaked the ******
& got lost in the sea mist,
found myself
surrounded by six
paddling leprechauns.
They have the best whiskey there.

In the old days,
you could sit
next to the galley
& get really juiced.
Pretty stewardesses
would slip
you small bottles
of fire water &
you could live large
in any seat.
And you could
actually relax,
talk with the pilot &
eat some grand meals.
Oh, did I forget to say
that check-in
was a breeze,
if you sneezed,
they said,
"God Bless You."

But now
they ain't playing games,
it seems stress has taken over.
How insane,
we're questioned
about our first born
& where we come from,
prodded & searched,
4 ounces of this,
4 ounces of that,
is all the liquid
that they allow.
Holy cow,
no nail clippers
& you can't even quip,
'cause they're not smiling.

O Jesus, I miss
those good old days,
back when flying was fun
& now they **** with all of us,
to keep a few terrorists on the run.

The blue on her shiner
matched the azure of her irises,
she'd try to cover it cosmetically,
you could tell she was sad.

What a pathetic ****** he was,
big tough guy he wasn't,
he'd last about a second
in the real ****,
be crying home
for his mommy.

I met a star today.
She was prettier
in real life
than
in the movies.
It seems
you never get the script
on the screen
that you get
in real life.
The right words flowed
from her lips,
you could feel
her
genuine spirit.
She was so pure
& even got the shivers
to prove it.
That was cool.

O sweet honey bun,
I'm scribbling as fast as I can,
writing deep penetrating thoughts,
things I think you'd like.

O, isn't this hot,
thrilling,
scintillating
raw techno-fun?
Your responses are so sublime,
genuine sultriness,
you have suggestive-words
of your own,
it's hard to keep up!

O, pardon my misspellings,
but the excitement is taking
me over the edge,
auto-correct can't even stop
my intent to be with you,
giving you my ******.

O, I think you should know,
I cannot fight you,
the aura on my screen,
that view of you
makes me feel explosive.
So here goes doll,
I'm getting close,
I'm strumming myself
to the beat of your words,
I think I love this,
kissing you in space,
exploding to the glow
of modern moonlight.