I spent my nights
on the sharpest edges,
imbibed supernatural fixes
to break ice,
make things seem better,
feel all nice.

On Kashmiri-tempo,
I looked for a cowgirl
in the sand with every day
one of intense celebration.
Bad to the bone was
the motto of logical songs.
Dust in the wind
& free birds never lied,
I cried in the cane break,
zig zagged through ghostland,
lived in
the twilight zone,
a young Turk
in love with radar,
alone on
Heaven's stairway.

When you are alone,
the internal fire
smolders hotter.
And all you have
is your mind
to stoke the embers,
those genuine memories
of desire.

There is a place I go,
lying in the darkness,
I travel a road of stars
leading to your heart
& I melt there
alone
spilling
love
on location
with you.

Thin nylon strands
had us connected,
tethered together,
tiny living
specks
moving
like frozen molasses.

Certain death
was evident
on both sides
of the knife-edged ridge
with jagged
rocky bottoms.

We were mesmerized
by the curvature
& witnessed
falling stars
whistling past
our wool-capped heads.

Up there,
near Heaven
we were so alive,
more alive
than
the
dead
walking
down here
at sea level
witnessing nothing
(but mass media &
fake reality shows).

All night long
we stared,
watched them criss-cross
across the frozen sky,
in between the stars.
And we thought,
wondered to ourselves,
in the greater scheme,
where are we really going?
Nowhere
or to higher places
other than the north face
of this glaciated sacred-monolith.

I miss the frozen air
skimming the tilted surface
& pelting my bearded-face
with granular rock
as my snot drips
solidly afixed
between my red nose & blue lips,
these stinging eyes gazing
upward into
the blackest of nights,
an hypoxic-mind
trying to count stars,
stay focused on my brick feet
while thinking of you,
lying so sweetly
in the comforts
of a huge warm bed,
a mountain of sheets,
your skin on fire.

The silence was exhilerating,
it crafted the senses,
honed my perception.

I could hear a pebble tumble,
a dog parking
two kilometers away
& the clouds forming.

Death was heard
in the sound
of clicking bolts
& tapped magazines.

We sat stoically together
connected by thin rope
on the tongue of the glacier.
Wrapped in warm feathers
like Michelin-men,
we deciphered
the operation of crampons
& giggled maniacally
about doing it with
stone-blue fingertips.

Headlamps glowed
as starlight glittered
off the ice wall facing us,
leaving traces of a million suns
burned into my retinas.

Frozen snot clung
to my moustache
like hungry ticks
and all I could think of
was sticking to the plan.

A short jaunt
across sixty-degree slick-glass,
then over the moraine
for eight hours straight up,
zigzagging to Heaven.

And standing ten minutes
in that sacred place,
we'd kiss cloud zephyrs,
dole out high fives
with splitting headaches,
crack huge smiles
with ****** noses
taking Kodak moments
before the six-hour descent
to hot chicken soup.

It happened
across the street
from the elementary school,
after hours,
in a ramshackle house.

You wore your hair
like an Indian maiden
standing on all fours
& taught me
the deeper meaning
of such intimate acts.
I smacked
your **** back
with wild sweet-kisses,
all the way up
your personal food chain.
And once
I was coated
in your special elixir,
you got
closer to me,
even closer than
my own prickly whiskers.
I never,
I never forgot
your raw aroma,
your valley of flowers.

At least
I'm glad we
found Jesus.
& comforted,
knowing
we got a legitimate chance
to seek forgiveness
for such
loving things.
Amen Pocahantas.

I had a bad vision last night.
My buddies & I were out clubbing,
hanging out in the swankiest upscale place,
right next to the dance floor.
They were getting
all the ladies
& I just sat there
alone,
******* down
what was
left of my fruity
designer-drink
& wondering,
"Am I too old for my dreams?!"

Am I warm,
am I burning up
when you touch me,
grip me in your mind,
am I Sweet Darling.

We meandered by four-wheel drive
way up into phantom canyon,
got lost in the blm land,
parked forty-five degrees,
amongst the conifers.

We guzzled the golden brew
& in short order,
found ourselves
wearing our birthdays suits,
amongst the conifers.

For sure we had found heaven,
her gripping the roll bar
& me,
hanging on for dear life,
amongst the conifers.

So apropro,
her nickname suited her.

She was sweeter than wildflower honey,
finer than gosssmer,
nicer than a cool summer breeze
& made men fall to their knees.

And though he didn't look like one,
he certainly acted like one,
whenever she came sround.

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've been sent to this place
not on my own volition.
I am a case study for
an advance party
of skilled technicians.
They have harnessed the atom
for deep interstellar space-travel.
I have to hand it to them,
some pretty smart beings they are,
quantum physics
is Mickey Mouse to them.
But I do thank the lucky heavens
they've never heard of Donald Duck before.
They'd come here
to **** that up too.
And, I love that funny duck.

The old South
good old boy network
is alive and well.
I ought to know.
I witnessed it once
from an empty bottle
of wild turkey,
through the windshield
of Canadian mist.
They might insist
I was lucky,
but actually,
it was divine.
I had an angel riding shotgun.

Maybe
I have sinned,
but I'm a fallen archangel,
aren't
I darling?

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.

I've chewed the leaves,
lots of them
to ease the pain.
I've guzzled chicha
seeking a vision,
danced
the traditional
spiral
to pan pipes
and a trumpet.
And I've seen
piles of bones
as far as the eye can see
out on the Altiplano,
bleached by the sun,
basking in the rain
for a millennium.

I live inside my head
as much as I can.
As it seems to be,
to be
the only safe place
these days.

I have a full life,
fuller than most,
I toast Heaven and hell,
wondering which is best,
and I know.

I give her an inch
& she takes a mile.
But that's alright with me,
'cause you see,
when I'm feeling down,
she puts a happy smile
right back on my frowning-face.
And, I love her for that right.

He was the best that ever was.
& nobody wanted to admit it.
When he retired,
an immediate crime wave
hit the streets.
The thugs ran
roughshod
& nobody had *****
to do the things he did.
Too bad you couldn't ask
the ones he planted for advice.
He was the best that ever was.

I read somewhere once
that somebody
wondered if androids
dreamt of sheep
& I can tell you,
no,
I can assure you,
they do.

Intergalactic
Meteorite-spore-plague
Apocalypse now

I am no saint,
no scriptures will I write,
the sinners are long gone.

But you called me out,
rushed
at every moment
to get satisfaction,
for me,
to fill you up,
to quench
the same need,
spill my seed.

An accomplice I was
to your desire,
acting as if you
were made
in the same image,
an empty cup.

Darling,
sweet beautiful darling,
you are not a saint
either.
You
with your brown eyes
so dark,
so sad,
a brave front you paint
to cover
the deepest pain
I feel
I felt
it.

So sit,
sit there
tall,
stoic in the pews
and chant,
sing Alleluia,
give praises.

I promise,
I will keep you
alive
in my prayers,
it's all we have left.

And silence shimmers.

And you might yourself
some night
lying in bed with another,
but never so more alone than ever.

And you might fight the urge,
the primal urge to connect,
to explore all the corners
of the universe
because you know
for them it's just ritual,
their social duty.

And you seek brightness,
the light is nirvana
with another,
who has a higher purpose,
a devout follower of feelings
outside the human body.

An electric eel lives in my body.
At least,
that's how it feels.
I outta know,
every time I talk to her,
I feel it
buzzing away
in all my sensitive parts.

O Darling, you saucy pretty-poet,
****** me with your rhythmic-wit.
Show me your loveable moves,
gobble me up with your hot-stanza,
eat me with your sultry words.
Go ahead & say it,
write it out indiscreetly,
I can take it and so much more.

Well yeah, a haiku is certainly nice,
it’s swell & would suffice,
but I’d rather have a ballad,
perhaps an epic one,
the longer, the better
would be fun!

Wink-wink!

You are angelic,
the way you move
on invisible wings.

I was diseased
before I was spawned,
this affliction
called love,
was it sent from above
or way down below?

Who knows,
was I conceived
in a drunken stupor,
during a drug-induced
beach escapade,
in the afterlude of
a romantic dinner?

The fact is,
my Mommy spoke,
I'm a sinner,
like the rest of us,
the church lied.
How high do I have to jump?
I broke through the placenta,
magenta & blue,
like my Daddy.

Where is my angel's shoulder
when I need her most?

By candlelight
in a nirvanic
seaside-place,
I imagine
my hungry tongue
tasting her saline
all the way up
her precious back.

Yes my Darling.

She sinks further
into the silk,
her milky body
moving serpentine,
releases her soul.

Yesssss my Sweet.

I whisper sweet nothings
to the sighs
of the angel's song
she sings
so sweetly.
We lie
contented
beyond belief,
wrapping ourselves
in true love,
both keepers
of the great mystery,
for all is right
this glorious night,
nothing is wrong
between us.

O Dear Lord,
this tenderness!

And outside,
the ocean
lulls us to sleep
in each other's arms.

Your voice is angelic
& Nightingale-like,
it soothes me
into a frenzied-state
of unimaginable pleasure.

The formation of your
sweet precious lips
& your spoken desires
makes me hotter
than a white fire.

I do not fight
the temptations
of your raw soul,
for I know
how you feel
deep inside,
with a mouthful
of your command.

It's simply exquisite
& you might say,
"Yes, it's absolutely delicious!"

Really.
Like opinions mean anything.
You know the ole addage,
everybody's got two things.
I remember Jimmy lying
face down
kissing the ***** flooded street,
both of his legs were missing.
It was a ****** mess.
I confess,
while he was screaming
for his Momma,
I was thinking,
what nerve,
those spoiled rotten *******.

Years of personal experience,
I made my recommendation,
but the know-it-all didn't listen,
he bought the canary-colored backpack anyway.  

I chuckled under my breath,
thinking how
every toucan in the jungle
was going to be chasing him
on his dream vacation
to the jungle.

Idiot.

I saw lot's of gold men
strutting out in the desert,
spinning themselves
like drunken madmen
warped on internal-sin.
They fell at your feet
like arcade-magic,
the way you want it.

But you gave it away
to the whole team.
So sultry & wanton,
cravings, cravings, cravings,
screaming such sexiness,
scheming your selfish desires,
another everybody's girl,
saving nothing &
not much left to give.

Paste me a star on your ice box.
I'm just another whim,
a frivolous indiscretion,
another hot-mistake on
your Milky Way-fridge.

I hug the mound on all fours,
delving
every nook and cranny,
rapidly searching
your colony,
my tongue slurping,
the buzz of the Queen.

I followed a path of stars to get to you,
their sacred light guided me
along the way
& I prayed
I would make it,
because
it wasn't easy.

Things don't seem the same
when you're down
on your weakened-knees
sobbing,
crying in pain,
& wondering
why him,
why our father?

O this timeless question,
the agony of your precious loss
& who has the answer,
the unsolved mystery
of the entire universe.

But you will rise,
you will rise again
to face the sun,
to taste the air
& to kiss the stars,
for he is in them now
& those thoughts alone
will comfort you,
even with your broken heart,
a piece always missing.

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.

From between your raised hips,
I see you with my spyglass,
you're such a pretty maiden.
Hurry,
up with the black flag,
slide down my mast,
fast,
lie on your backside
sweet lady,
this will last
forever.

It's not just the brain
thinking of bad stuff,
it's every single cell
in the body
geared up
on high alert,
waiting
for the enemy
to visit the green zone,
this place called home.
This overcoming buzz,
a cloak of anxiety,
chokes,
stifles the mind.
.

I lie here alone in the darkness
being interrupted by the morning light,
staring up at my ceiling fan,
my hands crossed under my head,
wondering how many homes
the Jolly 'Ole St. Nick visited last night.
And though my home remains silent,
I know the action has already begun,
is about to begin, o what fun!

Halfway around the world,
pandemonium is in full swing,
things are in an uproar.
Eggs are frying,
toast is burning,
kids are screaming deliriously,
lovers are swooning,
babies fussing,
they're people laughing,
some are crying,
fires crackling,
boxes are being ripped apart,
bicycles are out in the streets,
new wardrobes are worn,
praying & cussing,
shock & elation,
some dreams are being met,
others are being shattered,
living rooms are in tatters.

I know I must be brave,
prepare myself
for the coming onslaught.
Wish me luck.....
while there's still time
for a bit of more
peace & quiet.

I was there
with you
when the Nazis marched in.
I remember
the small bistro
near the arc
Mademoiselle.
We were getting smashed
on Beaujolais,
I was curling
strands of your hair
between
my cigarette fingers,
whispering love
& getting lost
in your azure eyes.
When the smoked cleared,
things were never the same.
You left early one morning
in a boxcar
& I went underground
to defeat the juggernaut.
I never got your name,
just remembered you
were such a pretty femme.

Words,
thoughts,
feelings flow
through me
constantly.

I'm a perpetual
broken-dam,
passion leaks
through
my cracks
like cool waters.

Most of the time,
I'm breathless,
passionately
wrapped up
in the moments
that tick,
that cascade as fast
as I can write............

There's so much to say
and so very little time.

I want you sweetness,
for the muse army.

O yes,
you special one,
please,
give me some fiery inspiration,
make me feel vibrant & alive,
allow me to kiss your clairvoyance,
to write genuine verse & rhyme
from my ever-beating,
fervent heart.

O darling,
won't you join?

I know,
I'm not alone
here.
And though I can't
see you,
I can feel you
in spirit.
The words you write
comfort me
& I wrote this little ditty to let
you know
I thank you.