What if I got drunk,
****** out of my gourd,
decided to get stewed
on the cheapest whiskey,
throw myself
into oblivion
shooting smack,
poke my biggest vein,
inhale a pile of pink-flake,
the kind that
melts in your mouth
& you can't feel your tongue.
I might attack
my ****** soul
with ripe *****,
pop some dexies,
lick purple stars,
then go
whacked outside,
into the salt breezes
driving my beat up Rambler-car.
I could pipe my distaste
for this messy
robot-establishment,
tell them how it is,
these control freaks
trying to run our mean streets.
I could spew it to them in rhyme,
write free flow verses
about starry night skies
& our misplaced loves,
the agony of
our cracked
bleeding hearts.
Indeed fellow trippers,
I could show them
the danger in my eye,
cry for the sympathetic wolf,
flip a few Molotov cocktails.
But whatever I do,
you must believe me,
you wonderful people
& you sober-minded drones,
I have seen the light
from the bottom
of the abyss
& it ain't pretty,
it't ain't pretty,
doped up,
living a ******-up
life on the edge.

The first time you pull the pin
and toss one,
it feels like you're in the movies,
until you see the aftermath,
blood trickling from their ears
and you realize
it ain't a fake dead body,
its skin still feels warm.

The clouds smile orange,
coolness wrinkles my face,
leaves dance on the tin
& I,
I taste the rain in the wind
again.

A light rain
covers my face,
tiny droplets
I swallow
& I taste,
I taste
the sacred heavens.

Images of all shapes & sizes
comes into focus in
a melodramatic-way.
A damsel for sure.
The way she plays
does not require
beer-goggles.
It boggles
my hero-mind
the sheerness of
her beauty.
I do believe
it is genuine &
I am sober.

I thought they only drank chianti
with liver and Fava beans in the movies,
but when they found them,
he was sliced up good,
his liver was missing &
she was passed out
drunk on chianti,
her face in a plate of Fava beans.
I heard it was an horrific scene,
blood was everywhere,
on the walls,
even in her hair.
There always seemed
to be something strange about her,
she was abnormally quiet,
would never look you in the eyes.
I guess she finally got sick and tired
of being treated less than human.
& that's what he did to her,
all the time.
But not anymore &
not just in the movies,
either.

I wonder how Tarzan felt,
I mean he ruled the jungle once,
had his king chimp by his side,
kicked a lot of lion ***.

Then Jane showed up
in her leopard-skin outfit.
Soon the guy couldn't win,
and he put on a gut.

The natives said he'd hit a rut,
was not as fast as he used to be
& had a croc scar to prove it.

Then again,
we all have choices,
so it really doesn't matter
how Tarzan felt
now does it?

My head's here
because of Kevlar,
this heart
was protected by ballistic nylon.
I carry a tiny steel scar
on my left cheek &
this small nick on my brow
just above my right eye,
are etched from
bits of schrapnel.
I still have my *****,
thank God.

Fleeting sensuous-toughts of you
overtake me
at the most inopportune times,
like in the checkout line,
I think about your fineness,
how you love to greet me at the door
& hold yourself up like that,
against the wall for more
change she asks
& I stand there bewildered,
the cashier holding her arm out,
palm up,
for the correct dollar amount
of your love.

We were out on recon,
high in the mountains.
& it was cold,
cold as hell.

The twinkling stars
were out in abundance
but offered no solace,
for this was a dangerous place,
one wrong step
& you could take a header.
But even worse,
if you got captured,
they'd cut your ******* head off
& make a video
praising Allah.

I thank God,
I made it back,
fully intact.
But I can't say for sure
if I didn't leave
part of my head
up there,
somewhere
on that cold mountain.

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.

I am adrift,
lost in a myriad of thoughts,
I have that wanderlust,
a case of the traveling,-bone.
I think I need a little bit a vino,
& a hunk of bread.
Perhaps, a walk
in the countryside
will do me some good.

So just for the hell of it,
I think I'll visit France,
that's where I'll go,
leave home for awhile,
get out of Dodge.

Yes, I think I'll visit France,
maybe I'll find
some good
old-fashioned romance, too.
Au revoir!

His head is acrylic now
with a glass eye,
some became half-bodies,
but most who didn't make it
ended up ******
organic
microscopic pieces,
remnants of DNA,
stains on plastic
componentry
& Humvee armor.
My eardrums still hurt
& I get headaches.
Other than that,
I think,
I think,
I'm intact.

Strange, how
when I think of you,
I think of pomegranates,
I think of raging streams
& pistachio ice cream
& the planets.

I think of
your malachite eyes
& whiskey,
& how you made
me feel in Manaus,
smoking twisties.

Yesterday,
at 3:31 in the morning,
I was thinking about
your firm thighs
& your tender touch
& the reasons why
I cry.

But mostly,
I think I think
too much.

The explosion
threw Billy's legs
thirty feet into the air
in different directions.
They never found his nuts
or his ****.

The concussion
cracked his skull
in big places.
One eyeball hung out
onto his face.
I saw blood running
from both of his ears.

Through my rotation,
the fear of being
the next one
to vaporize
never left me.

By the way,
Billy didn't make it.
I think that
was a good thing.

I swear I felt you move
& as I lie awake,
here alone,
I realize it wasn't real.

It was just a figment,
a figment of my wild imagination
I try to put to sleep
each night
I think of you.

She wore vintage lace & bandanas,
fresh flowers looked pretty in her hair.
She was born in the city, but
the country was her playground.
Counting stars was a pastime for her &
her bed was surrounded
by a circle of burning candles.
Imported incense swirled in her room,
natural oils were her expertise.
She was certainly no tease,
she could make you feel at ease
with the way her body talked.
She loved to **** sensimilla.
No joke,
she was absolute Heaven on Earth.
I lost my mind with her
& she never gave it back.
I think she still keeps it
in her secret treasure box.

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.

I don't ask for very much
& it's not like the
sun,
the moon,
and the stars
darling,
it's just some *******
every now & then
& it could be.

Radiator fluid was everywhere,
vultures circled high overhead,
so I put my head on a swivel
& did not see a single car in sight.

The twin black ribbons
disappeared into the horizon
& temperatures were
well above the 100-degree mark
when I stuck my thumb out.

Then from out of nowhere,
a cherry red Corvette cruised up
with the foxiest driver I'd ever seen,
I mean she was a knockout,
a raging beauty!

She took one look at me
& hit the pedal to the metal,
took off like a spaceship,
a bat out of hell.

I was dumfounded,
but eventually I figured,
it must had been the thumb,
it made me look like a ***
& no real lady
needs to give a ***
a ride to anywhere.

You lay
beautifully
wrapped in lace
not fighting me
as I placed sweet kisses
from your bellybutton
down to the promised land
& with my gentle hands,
I took the frown
right off
your pretty little face.

I traced her full lips with my fingers,
looked her squarely in her pretty eyes
& inhaled deeply
the sweet fragrance
of her gorgeous hair.
Moments like that are forever
etched in my fond memories.
To have touched her lips like that
seems so surreal now,
for she truly was an angel.

Your sweet kisses felt so right
& I miss them so much,
I think about them
all night long,
touching the void
between us.

Once somebody told me I tripped,
but I don't  really remember it.
She handed me purple dye
on a little square sheet of paper,
told me to melt it on my tongue.
I didn't taste  ir feel anything
out of the ordinary.

The next thing I could recall
was that it was sixteen hours later.

She said we played rough,
crawled long,
& balled hard
during the entire time.

It's freakin' strange
how my mind
blocked out all those fun things.
I wished I had done them
without the acid.

I hear the rain trickling,
dropping off the needles,
it descends on rolling hills
of green velvet & you,
you with your
self-indulgent ways,
fill yourself up
with strange pills,
as if you're
the only person
on the planet
with personal problems.

Well ******,
wake up, wake up,
pick yourself up,
come out of your
self-induced coma &
come listen
to the soothing rain,
it's better
than all the pain,
the sickness
you've been suffering.

All this talk about Venus & Mars.
Yeah, yeah, yeah,
blah, blah, blah,
sis boom bah,
shut your pretty mouth,
turn off your analytical mind
& just kiss me.
And if we haven't left our planets,
then I'll listen,
'till then,
it's just about
you and me,
kissing.

One day you feel safe,
the next day it feels
like the heebie jeebies
are hanging
around your neck.
It's all about the mojo.
If the locals appear happy
and their eyes are smiling,
it's gonna be a good day.
But if you get quiet
and shifty eyes,
the bad boys are
gonna probably play nasty.
On the quietest day of the year,
I saw Miller disappear
in a pink cloud.
Half his body went up
in smoke &
they never found
his legs or nuts.
His right arm
was laying in
in a deep rut
full of sewer water
on the side of the dirt road.
I can't keep my mind
off his screaming,
which still haunts me
to this very day.

Numbers really don't mean ****,
I write for the release.

People at work look
at me in bewilderment,
they must think I'm childish,
'cause I have my fingers
in my mouth
all the time.

But I know better doll face,
it's an adult thing,
an act I love,
craving
delicious traces of you,
smiling devilishly inside.

I stare blankly
at endless pools of rain
sliding down the tarmac,
my windshield wipers
keep perfect time,
it's as if I'm the only human
left on planet Earth.

It feels like
the apocalypse is finally over
& all I can do is read your words
& wonder if your survived
the same violent storm.

I am forgetting
the taste
of her lips,
her pleasant contours,
the way she held me
giving her all,
it's been
far too long
& it's slowly
killing me,
if she
only knew.

Crazy bolts played
outside my windows
being pelted
by the downpour
& here I soak,
in a nice warm bath
******* my I-pad,
still dreaming of you.
And I felt you move,
making bubbles
deep inside me.

N'awlins babe with
a pretty flower-tat,
seared tuna & sesame,
a dab of wasabi,
club soda & lime,
lily pads & gators.
That's where it's at,
my happy hour
down here,
somewhere.

There are a million more stories
left to tell
& thousands of emotions
still to spill
& I'm not sure if
I have that many days left
& it's killing me.

The spell took hold of me at an early age,
rapid breathing & a stimulating blood flow,
an inner glow that makes one tingle,
feel like they've been stung
by an electric eel (incantation).
Some say it's pheromones,
a chemical-hormonal reaction,
but I say its more magic than that.
In fact, it's downright sorcery.

You left clues,
a trail of honey
& me in tow,
crawling,
bowing to a mandarin sun,
licking
every single drop
with scraped knees
a crimson shade,
suffering the wrath of Hades,
as it's no longer fun,
running on fumes
& a sweet tooth.

I miss walking
between the crags,
sitting high on the moraine
& feeling the rush of icy-wind
kissing me from the blue-crevasse.

I miss counting the stars
& being able to touch them,
hearing the rumbling sound
of an avalanche echo off
the big valley walls.

I miss the smell of sulphur
blowing up from
the depths
of a living-caldera
& the touch of penintentes
rising from the glacier,
evergreens in winter.

For in those moments,
you really feel alive
& it's not electronic,
it's real nature.

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.

It's all so very lovely,
the pieces of you
strewn out
so vivid & real.
It can make your
raw-emotions start,
steal a heart,
sometimes
even break it.

Each word you use,
each stanza you write,
so beautifully contrived,
it stimulates,
tantalizes,
takes you
to another place,
sacred & unearthly.

One can visualize
the sweet look
on your pretty face,
your intriguing-eyes,
the succulence
of your wonderful-thighs,
then realize
the fantasy of it all,
it's only space
& all unreal, but
not the crying.

I want to lie down next to you,
whisper warm-words
to you with the brilliant stars
& get as humanly-close to you
as I possibly can.

I want to melt with you,
get deep inside your mind,
create spasms,
feel your body tempo,
taste us on your sweet lips,
lick my cobwebs from
your hardened-tips.

I want to experience
the heavenly-inferno with you,
burn burn burn,
travel the contours
of your slick body,
savor every square
centimeter of you,
run my fingers
through your hair
sprawled all around
& under us.

It’s pretty simple,
I want to stop time with you,
float on magic-air with you,
make pure love to you
like none other,
that's all
I want to do.

It's something personal,
it's pheremonal
& primal,
coat me,
drape over me,
I want your warmth,
let me taste your sweet musk.

Sitting here tapping keys,
isolation winks at me.
Loneliness  
in the chair behind me,
grins so coyly.
It's so stuffy in here.

I'm a bit miffed,
possibly mad at anger,
who's smiling at me
from behind the closed window.

I feel frustration,
who's in the next room
next to mine,
is welling up in me
as I finish the next line.

I am beginning to see
the effects of my constant
isolation & loneliness,
anger & frustration,
my good friends.
Seems like nothing gets done,
I'm not having any more fun.

Perhaps it's time for me
to pick myself up &
run outside to enjoy
this fine day, far way
from my
depressed-companions,
such sad comrades.

Indeed, I believe it is!

We were all
born too late.
I know this
by the feelings
I get
when
spirit-guides
pass by me.

Yesterday,
I got too old
for my own good.
I sat and I wrote,
I wrote an ode
to my lost lover.
I knew her in a different time,
way back when corsets
ruled the day.
And when men kissed damsels,
they meant it.
If I could only steal her breath
one more time.

There we were,
at the tongue of the glacier
hanging out on the rocks,
a mile above the cloud deck.
We lay around
in various stages
of ams,
making small talk,
heads pounding
like a million
voodoo drums,
the smell of tuna
glued to our teeth
& wondering about the future.
It's what alpinists do
to pass the time
before the ascent,
when the rest of the world
doesn't exist.

Did she know I was hurting too,
from the fear of intimacy,
something my father
never taught me about,
only to be strong &
never to show my weaknesses.

But I cried too
when we ended.
I just never really knew
what to say.
After all,
it's just what tough guys do,
they go silent
when they're scared,
think they're falling.

Lord, I miss her,
especially the way
she kissed me.

The monkey rode her back constantly,
a skilled jockey,
it watched her down cheap *****
until she no longer existed
in a clear state.
That's when the critter got heavy,
and her,
in a stupor,
could not shake that hairy devil.
It was hard to watch
her die that way.

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.

You bared your soul,
mixed your beautiful self
with my own constitution
& when I came
back for more,
you laughed
& said it wasn't me
who made you swoon,
it was the full moon
& whiskey sours
that opened you up.

Blowing like wind,
a lonely sojourner
travels westward
toward the sinking sun.
I witness brilliant azure skies
splinter from red-orange
to the darkest pitch.

No accolades will greet me
where I am now going,
only beginnings,
a chance to create new stars
in a tempest.

And when you look up
at the sacred twinkling-lights,
feel the cool-breeze on your face,
it will be me.

Seems the older I get,
the more I realize
how true cliches are.
Like the sayings,
you win some, you lose some
& there's a sucker born every minute,
love is blind.
And I think about,
what goes around, comes around,
and it makes me understand better
why there are so many broken hearts
not growing fonder.