Do you ever wonder what it would be like
to lose your nuts in the desert,
witness your body
explode
in a pink cloud of goo
& wake up from a coma
missing not one,
but both ******* legs.
I often think about
how hard it would be
to balance on metal legs ball-less,
Then suddenly,
after short contemplation,
my **** doesn't seem so bad after all.
At least I can run
without toppling,
jump
without losing a leg,
and still have kids
balling.

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.

I loved Becky,
she had an infected heart,
four piercings in each ear
& bigger ***** than most guys.
She was more honest too.
Her daddy started banging her at six
& mother picked up tricks to make ends meet.
I could trust her.
Any girl who could survive that **** intact
was good in my book.
And besides, I was crazy about scorpion tattoos.

The frail nature of the soul
makes for confused company,
especially in
a world of moving fingertips
clicking precious-time away.

Passions run deep &
our minds travel
in nanoseconds,
we grasp glimpses
of each others worlds
on the dark side of the moon.

Yet, we still remain
a million miles away,
trapped in cyberspace,
endlessly flowing.

We forget
the contact,
the touch of our lips,
those loving-arms
embraced around our hearts,
human reactions,
only to remember
genuine frustration,
continual loneliness
& isolation.

Seems forever we look
for super nova,
remaining hardwired,
inspired.

And hopefully,
we never lose
faith,
hope or love
traveling like this,
missing kisses.

IPA's & rocking
to custard pie,
bellies full of blue crab
& cheesecake.

Like ***,
what else
does anybody need,
a night like this
is to die for.

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

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.

We are royalty,
common kings & queens,
birthed in our humanity,
breathing the same molecules
as did the Caesars
& forever
we will kiss
Cleopatra,
our eternal kin.

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 am solidly in love
with the dark
& as I lay here alone,
I am finding
other revelations
to convince me 'tis true.

I think about you constantly
in this heightened state,
kissing the pitch,
while satisfying this itch
to a conclusion.

There’s a place I go
once the Cheshire
has played out the charade,
smiled their last smile.

I crawl deep inside there,
to hear the tick of my own heart,
it makes me feel real again,
gives me time to breathe,
to move away from the melodrama
when smiling cats misbehave,
where I save myself
from transparent charms.

Of course,
none of us ever
really mean any harm,
it’s just human nature.
It’s okay kitty kitty,
I’m a big dog.

Melody plays in my mind,
my imagination undulates
inside these red walls,
the chimes clink,
strong vibrations permeate
my skin and bones,
a sitar shakes my very soul.

I see your precious lips,
hear ancient chants,
feel your luscious skin
& listen to your heart beat
the deepest percussion,
such a soothing sound.

And if once,
if just once,
I could kiss your spirit,
we could fly forever
between the magic,
the twinkling of
the infinite stars,
swimming
in the Heavens
above us.

I hung a crusader coin
around my neck
in a custom
silver setting.

Thirteen hundred years
have passed
from Antioch to here.

The head of
the helmeted
mailed- knight is
in perfect relief,
the Celtic-cross intact.

It has no special powers,
it's just a memory
of religious-brutality,
now hanging silent.

I'm steel.
Cold & hard.
Honed by the hottest-fires,
tempered with much
broken-hearted pain,
I've tasted rain.

I've traveled passion-dunes,
scaled love-mountains,
crawled in sensuous-mire,
wearing my scars like a hero,
a tireless crusader,
lonely & blue,
I'm someone who knows
about weakness.

The fire was raging,
blazing coals sparked,
spiraled upward
into the Heavens.
We drank sweet wine,
danced like devils
intoxicated on life,
away from
the madness of the rat race,
our smiling faces
treaded sacred ground.

My dear lady,
how I miss the reflection
of a billion stars,
beaming at me
through your tasty-eyes,
the pair that seduced me,
took me down in your hellfire.

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.

Your sweet fragrance uncoils around me
like a hooded cobra,
jolting my senses
& it reminds me of your own.
Yours blew me away,
& I am lost in the smell
of your delicious musk,
titillating my taste buds,
I'm still thirsting.

Raindrops pelted the lush ferns
in a melody meant to soothe,
the babbling brook added
percussion to the crows overhead
as I crossed over the fallen log
& heard the bullfrogs
kissing wood spirits.

Who doesn't remember Tony Lama
& those flashy pearl buttons,
cruisin' down the streets in torn jeans,
shirts unbuttoned to flat-navels
revealing sprouting chest hairs.

The disco ball twirled dance-magic,
along with the beach sounds
of sweet soothing melodies,
the ones that made you want
to sunbath covered
in Banana Boat oil.

A little bit of grease
went a long ways,
while warring with stars,
we got drunk in the bars,
sometimes got lucky in our cars
dreaming of better days
that weren't too great after all.

I miss those simple dates,
the ones without
immediate gratification
based on
the grand designs of
computer-aged
mobility.

I got lost in her tattoos.
Do you see me there,
lying
right next to the vicious tiger,
just down from the crescent moon,
around the corner from her butterfly.
And if you can't read her runes,
that's alright,
she's an inked Gemini,
born in June,
full of fire,
not a liar.

In the morning,
she spins
circles around me
like a small child
gleeful.

At noon,
she's drunk on life,
swooning love.

And by suppertime,
she's strung out,
overdosed on
the sacredness
of another day.

Word conundrums
Vertical Horizontal
O Arthur Wynne!

She speaks five languages
& works her *** off
in an eatery
buttering croissants.
A single mom of three,
she still has the spirit to
smile like a summer sun.
What a pretty sight,
there's no wallowing in
the mire for this waitress,
she's still got fire
& no time for *******,
'cause she's making it happen
on her own terms.

Dazzling brilliance
Lotus embraces heavens
One with universe

Crystal azure beads
of collective DNA,
she wrapped herself
in trademark-mink
& dwelled in Helsinki
doing the Bond-thing.

She hugged the circle
with Velcro-fingers,
stood larch-tall, singing
a frozen siren's song
under the midnight sun.

And beneath her cold exterior,
was the warmth
of a million fireballs.

On a Pan American traverse,
we skirted across the Altiplano
somewhere near Titicaca,
worked our way
through the chicken bus line
up to the lone road stop.
A mere shack
with government thugs
hiding inside,
suits wearing ray bans
& checking tourist-bags,
as if they were
making a difference
with the war on drugs.

Millions are made
off the misery of others
& there is no cure in sight.
The system just reloads,
rakes in the hard earned dollars
of real people
who they say
have no rights.
And who are they,
but the high & mighty
magistrates,
sitting high in the pulpit,
hitting happy hour
before they drive back home
after a hard day's work
playing hypocrite.

We wanted to start a program
and call it
climbing for the rez.
We hoped
to find serious candidates,
young people
who possessed the blood
of their great ancestors.
We had planned
to harness,
to rekindle
the warrior spirit
on high mountaintops
covered with ice age glaciers.
The lessons learned
to reach the summit
would last a lifetime.
It was an excellent plan,
a unique idea,
to truly help
fellow humans in need.
But we found no money.
It seemed no one,
not a single corporate entity
was interested
in us
helping
potential warriors
find their way.
We had to scrub the idea...

Stella had a pentagram etched
across her pert chest,
her jet hair
accentuated
her icy blues,
she walked twisting the heads
of the forsaken,
she was black magic,
all the way.
Satan has all the spellbinding girls.

Cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clin­k,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
"Come get some
*******!"
Cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
cl­ink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****­
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
"That's right,
uh-huh"
Cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,­
click
thunk,
click
thunk,
"****,
a freaking jam!!!"
Vrooooop,
tap
tap
tap,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
­cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
"Wooooooooooooo,
woooooooooo"
C­ha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink­,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
cl­ink,
"Ammo......
MORE AMMO!!!"

He’s journeyed many a treacherous route, scuttled ancient-ships,
ridden the skyscraper-troughs of crystal-seas, hunted enemies,
alone.

He’s guided by the lamps of the Heavens, the countless stars,
the sun and the moon, calculated the astrolabe,
alone.

He’s braved hurricane winds, the triangles of Bermuda, windless days,
leviathans & squids, scavenging whites and other such hungry things,
alone.

He’s got the strength of a Goliath, keeps his tenderness guarded under lock and skeleton-key,
his wounds bleed forever in the brokenness of a self-induced solitary confinement,
alone.

He’s the truest mariner, fights black-tempests within, protects himself from overexposure,
from another broken heart,
alone.

Oranges & reds
crack the eastern skies
to greet the red-tailed hawk,
coffee brewing.

O those dogwoods thrill!

A fawn frolics with her doe
& every shade of jade
drops dew
as cottontails hop
amongst the deserted
moonshine still
in love.

I am
in Appalachia.

One day, you're hot
like sunspots,
the next, you're cold
like frozen dewdrops.

I am blown away
by your kindness
& generosity,
blinded by your ferocity
& enamored
with your brilliance.

You're never lukewarm
nor moderate,
you're the perfect storm
touching my heart,
that I love so much.

Like warm
Jello shots
covering all spaces,
traces of me
on your pretty face,
licorice
imaginations
so tasty,
you're smiling.

In her own words,
I imagined how nice
it would be between her & me.

Such a scenario is indeed,
delicious to contemplate.
Soft-sunlight peers in
from under bamboo blinds,
intertwined candles
burn from the previous night,
we do not fight our fiery-intentions.

Her precious body lies under me,
I feel her chest on mine,
grip her sweet lady-hips
fully engaged,
move rhythmic & with gentle care,
melodic.

As she arches her back,
I discover her soul,
release within her,
flow warmth as she shudders,
me growling low,
whispering her name,
she sighs contentment,
holds tighter,
I feel her move.

We collapse enraptured,
kiss, hug, squeeze,
inhale each other,
then continue on to our slumber,
me inside of her still,
both satiated.

She had a pink unicorn tat
running in a trail of pixie-stardust,
emblazed on her upper left shoulder.
Despite the ravages
up and down
her scarred arms,
she still kept the eyes
of a newborn doe.
Wide and brilliant,
but dimmed when
she rode the horse.
I cried all my reserves
when I heard
she crossed over
to the land of fantasy,
the resting place
for single-horned
animal lovers.
In no way,
did that sweet
little
dear girl
deserve such
a tragic ending.
Strangely now,
I shiver
when I look up
at the million twinkling stars,
I think of Becky
and her sad beginning.

The first time I met Big Jim
was in my shop.
He walked in with a burning sage bundle,
waving it in circles above his head.
He told us he was smudging the place,
said it was sort of an
ancient cleansing ritual.
My partner told him he couldn't do that,
that it would ***** the customers,
probably wasn't good for business,
that he should put it out.
Jim just stood there
with the smoldering smudge bundle
in the middle of the store
looking dumbfounded
and sad.
I knew I was going to like the guy.

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.

Are we stupid or what?
Who needs education
when these governments
do all of our thinking for us!

We need to dismantle
the whole apparatus,
piece by piece,
cryptically of course.

We don't want to
disturb big brother,
do we geniuses!?

I blew in from the camino
like a wild tumbleweed,
the smell of iquana
hung around me
like a dark cloud
as I slumped onto
the barstool &
ordered a tequila
with the worm.

The mariachi was as loud
as thirty babies screaming,
I knew it wasn't me dreaming.
In the darkness & haze,
I used my dynamite-eyes
to scan the spinning room
& I caught Lupita looking.

We ended up
on the wilder side of town
that night,
I fought three banditos
and a chupacabra,
beat the snot out of all
of them.

If it wasn't for
this Betty Boop tattoo
on my ***,
that classy senorita
would have married me,
lucky me.

I see the full moon beginning to rise.
Crap.
This stuff is getting old.
I'm ruining my clothes
every thirty days.
It's getting riskier,
the people in town
are always chasing me
with torches,
shooting at me
with silver bullets.
One by one,
pretty women
are disappearing,
occasionally a small boy.
They are using hounds now.
One of these days,
they're going to bag me.

Minutes turn into hours
when I contemplate,
recalling
vivid memories
swirling out of the past,
what some label
the good old days.
But, what about the nights.

They were never truly
meant to last,
proving-grounds,
stored banks of the good times
& the bad.
Such tough realizations
dissipate into the melancholy.

And, if we could go back,
would we really change a thing?
For, we can never recreate the wheel,
it's already been done
& it's perfect.

In fact,
we're all perfect,
molded from clay,
washed with grit.
******,
pattern recognition
never felt so good.

It's a quiet sacred place,
deep in the oak hammocks,
way beyond the pine flatlands
& cabbage palms.
There I commune
with the crows
and the crickets.
And at night,
a bullfrog symphony plays.
The mosquitoes,
*****,
and armadillos
come out to play.
It remains sacred,
but is not nearly as quiet.

She grew up near cornfields
& rolling fields of wheat,
a serious dreamer.
During the Summers,
she'd sit out on the back porch
to watch the sun set
with her constellation guide.
She did the same thing in Autumn,
the Winter & Springs, too.
And one day, she just disappeared.
Some people say she joined
the Gemini twins,
others say,
she's somewhere
beyond Perseus.
I believe she rose like a Phoenix
and hides within Virgo.
But in reality,
nobody really knows
where dreamer girls go.

It runs diagonal
across the back of my neck,
three inches long,
maybe a bit longer
and it tingles
when I get the orders
from the mother ship,
strange voices buzzing,
an unknown language
telling me to wait,
to wait for their return,
to revolutionize,
to colonize this world.

I ran back
down to Piccadilly Square
just to get a closer look
at that doll baby.

She rambled by so quickly in
striped red & white stockings,
her lemon yellow
draped her shoulders,
bouncing like springs,
like her gorgeous *******
& that sweet ****-tune.

She had vibrant graffiti
sprayed on her arms,
wore come-do-me ruby stilettos
as she glided like a storm trooper
along the promenade.

Her blackened full lips puckered,
with slanted paparazzi shades,
leaving a wake of open-mouthed
wide-eyed gawkers speechless.

Man, she was tough,
a rare cool bird,
struttin' her pretty
hot stuff,
it left me breathless.

It was a place
without freedom,
that place down the hall,
a land of the almighty & rich,
befallen petroleum *******
******* their ***** dry
& the wind cries
for justice,
not lies.

And in my slumber,
I crave
the taste
of your delicious lips,
traces of me
on your strawberry tips
& your sweet nectar,
oh, the
thought of
licking
your sweet nectar
arouses me &
keeps me up,
all night.

Wipe that lipstick
off your cheeks,
it's hiding
your pretty face
& your sweet grace,
your  crying
lying eyes.

I walked through the rubble,
shattered cars
& the smell of burning rubber,
passing out gum
& cigarettes
to the urchins
trailing behind me
& I thought,
what an *******,
like this is going to help.